#something i imagine a 12 year old boy to say

[corruptpixel]

uncalled for.

[akalimist]

Xander: not having money is a disease get well soon xoxo

Xander: as someone has been broke and had to raise a sibling, this is a joke.

[jasontoddspussy]

i kinda wanna write a short crack-ish time travel au where 12 year old jason swaps places with 22 year old jason bcs it'd be so fkn funny everyone would be so concerned. bcs like jaybin was not the angry kid fandom seems to think????? he was so sweet?? he listened, he was happy-go-lucky and wanted to help, found wonder in everything (robin gave him magic) and he was just so full of life and hope

so im just imagining:

titans: so hows it going with robin? you havent really talked about him or complained about his goody-two shoes sunshine-ness for a while. you good?

dick: well, uh. you see.

titans: also, who's the body-guard?

jason:

dick: so uh. this is.. future? robin..?

jason, 6'4 built like an idustrial fridge and a heavy aura of ''i can and will break your neck if you look at me the wrong way'' and voice gravelly from either the scar tissue or smoking or both: sup

titans:

titans: (just. stares. uncomprehending)

More under the cut V

just got like a funny picture in my head of like. a time travel AU where jason either swaps places with his younger self or somth idk but they're like sitting quietly eating breakfast and it's all fun and good but then a magical poof ensues and bam. adult jason is sitting there and jason is very confused bcs like yeah he was in fact sitting and about to eat but that had been at the nest with tim across him and maybe dick or damian snoring away on the couch in the next room.

meanwhile, dick and bruce and alf are all.. very confused bcs 1) baby jay just vanished. not only is the kid gone but in his place is a man who sorta looks like jay. (i headcanon jay as trans, this was before he came out.. tho i do have aus where he doesnt get to come out to anyone but tim, who makes a secret grave in his honor and doesn't out him.)

and bruce is like.

b: caroline...? is that you?

jay: (blinks) hm. congratulations, it's a boy. (jazzhands).

2. this man looks like he's seen the worst things humanity can offer, not to mention the very extensive scarring *covering every visible inch of his body* and the creepy either white eyes or green eyes.

and now he's sititng with just bruce and a very young looking dick and all of them just stare at each other and all jay can say is "fuckin' hell. seriously?" and groans bcs he did not want to deal with bruce. at all.

3. this man is not as surprised to be there as he should be.

jasons really not pleased with the situation but it is what it is and he's like just call constantine or zatanna or whatever. meanwhile everyone else is too busy staring at the fact jason, tiny jay, is taller than freakin' bruce and built like an industrial fridge (that isnt from lowes). none of them know how to feel about this

just like.

"you're.. awfully calm about this."

"eh, i've seen weirder." it is unsaid but jay is thinking of discowing.

n the three of them just has no idea how to treat this adult jason. this jason who seems.. familiar but so, so very different. obviously something must've happened bcs the guy looks like he's been in a freaking zombie apocalypse. and jays just like i cant wait to be home i hate this place, and makes the most unnerving comments here and there that just makes the others more confused. like.

"you can sleep in your old..? room. we will need to look for a change of clothes, though."

"ill use a guest room, i'm not setting a foot in that shrine."

"as you can see by this footage it's possible-"

"oh, that's not who killed him. look there, that's a falcone mark. this wasn't random but premediated."

"hm why are you even bothering with this case? listen - that's the sound of a skull being crushed, not the sound of an arm breaking, duh."

and they just get more confused and concerned

jason is a giant man made of muscle and rage and everyone is left reeling cause something happened to him, but he wont say what, and everyone keeps trying to guess and he doesnt clarify anything and obs no one is thinking "he died, got revived, turned into a zombie, pumped through HRT rage edition, becamea crime lord, was killed by his dad who chose to save his murderer, thrown into arkham by his older brother, broken out by his younger brother/boyfriend, made his own team of outlaws and put himself back together, only then starting to reconcile with some of the bats"

when they finally figure out how to get him back, someone, maybe baby timmers guesses "you were turned into a zombie" as a joke and jay finger guns him and says "yep" and then back jumps into the portal to get him back to his own time

meanwhile baby jason has the time of his life

not only is he apparently tall, *but* dick likes him?? he's apparently done a lot of good for crime alley??? he has a brother? boyfriend? both?? who looks up to him and is both very familiar yet he doesnt recognise him at all, and a younger brother who also looks up to him and is very protective and reminds him of like a small cat?????

dicks like we gotta get so many pictures of you!!! and jays like super confused but also like ok???

he can obviously tell that somethings up that theyre not telling him. but honestly the fact that it's like a decade into the future and he has so many people who loves him??? he decides its a problem for future him.

everyone is just very happy bruce is away on a mission in space.

[ma1dita]

trouble's coming for you

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (established relationship) suggestive banter lol The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. Also known as the three times Percy is completely oblivious about you two, plus the time he learns what L-O-V-E looks like for two teen demigods. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: PERCY POV!!! maybe the real enemy was the blue balls Luke got from a clueless 12-year-old. you’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t overthrow the gods too? scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(posted 2/29/24, edited!!! i think!!! four hours of sleep later and a big kiss to @hotchfiles miss lari as always for inspo mwah)

—

What’s in a name?

One of the last defining memories Percy Jackson had with his mother before arriving at Camp Half-Blood was her reminder that names have power. He’s held fast to that belief, treading carefully with his words in this unfamiliar place that he’s supposed to call home so soon after losing his own.

Being the new kid for the hundredth time in his life means that he’s accustomed to change, much less introducing himself as Percy Jackson, whatever that means at this point—but then becoming known simply as the kid who causes trouble. What then, is he supposed to do, when his first friend at camp introduces him to a girl who embodies the name trouble? 

To Luke, through Percy’s actions, it seems as if he’s trying to reclaim a crown that currently belongs to the beloved head counselor of Camp Half-Blood.

—

The dining pavilion is filled with mouth-watering scents and the sound of chattering campers to the point that it’s a bit overstimulating if he thinks too hard about it. Mr. Brunn—er, Chiron told him to take it easy after the events from yesterday, but he feels a bit tough on luck after making Luke run circles around camp trying to find what he’s good at.

“Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” Percy says glumly, pushing the mac and cheese around on his plate. Luke sighs, letting the boy to his right speak.

“Oizys,” Chris mumbles through full cheeks before he cocks his head at the 12-year-old, “but she’s a goddess, and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s more like failure.”

Luke looks to Chris with a half smile before looking back at the kid and saying, “We’re gonna find the thing you’re good at. I know it.” He looks like he’s going to say something else before something, or someone catches his attention and it’s almost like the older boy is transfixed, eyes shining with mischief or something deeper that Percy’s young brain couldn’t comprehend just yet. 

“And here comes trouble…” Luke says with a smirk, eyes following your figure until your feet take you to their table. The sandy-haired boy twists around, expecting to see a goddess of some sort until he sees you, violet eyes and a lilt of something sinister—giving off the energy of someone who holds power but also likes to fuck with it. You cross your arms over your chest, gaze floating over the three boys and at the tip of your chin, Luke takes his plate off the table, prompting you to hop up and slide onto the smooth surface in front of him. 

“You look like someone kicked your puppy, so you must be the new kid. Peter, right?”

A snort of laughter comes from behind your slouched form, Luke partially concealed but body obviously shaking with amusement as he looks at you.

“He might just turn out to be a puppy kicker one day,” the son of Hermes jokes, “Meet Percy Jackson.”

“That’s not…”

You sigh at Luke’s idea of a joke, face incredulous as you lean over and conjure strawberries onto Percy’s plate. He’d never seen anything like that before, someone so casual about their abilities, but he didn’t have much of a reference past yesterday. This camp keeps surprising him in ways he’s never imagined possible.

“Heard D gave you a hard time earlier, sorry about him—I’d blame it on withdrawals but he’s just an asshole,” you offer with a smile and a handshake as you introduce yourself, watching the boy’s eyes widen with wonder.

“It’s not your fault…I’m used to being the new kid.”

Eyebrows furrowing at his tone, you lean in closer, voice turning serious. You’re a lot like Mr. D in the sense that it’s easy for you to poke at the kids who come through here for a reaction to make sure they’re okay mentally. When they don’t react is usually the call for help.

“Well, new kid, if anyone gives you a problem here at camp, you let me know. Even if it’s these two hooligans, or if it’s my dad.”

“You’re talking to our lovely head counselor, Percy. She calls the shots around here,” Chris chimes in jest. But only one part of your sentence sticks in his mind as he whips his head up from munching on a berry. 

“He’s your dad?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” you giggle, “and though you’re sweet and I would love to have you as a sibling, he kind of has a rule on having too many kids at once, unlike other gods.”

“A rule he’s already broken,” Luke drones, hand fidgeting with the black bandana tied around your thigh, “but who knows? If Percy ends up to be one of you, well…may the gods have mercy on us all.”

A deadpan stare is directed at the scarred boy, and you swipe at his curls like a feral cat, making him wince and laugh all the same as he bats you away.

“Tough shit, 11. Do you know how many hellions inhibit your cabin? Your dad inflicts agony on me personally every time another one of your siblings walks past the boundaries.”

The petty squabble is interrupted by the chime of the bell over your heads, but you two are still in a world of your own. It reminds Percy of the time he watched two subway rats fight over a pizza slice on the 6 train—he didn’t really know who to root for then either. Chris sighs and gets up, nudging Luke to follow, which he does begrudgingly as he claps his large hand on your leg. You hiss.

“Our turn!” Luke says with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Our turn for what?”

“Burnt offerings,” you explain as you chomp on a strawberry, “the gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer.” You notice Percy stay in his seat, which makes a smile pull at your lips, “Think you’re off the hook for today though, bud. Or you can be just like me.”

“Don’t give him any ideas, Trouble. I’ll throw in a few for Hestia.” Luke chews at his lip as he leans over you to grab a few berries off of Percy’s plate to toss into the fire for you. 

“You don’t pray?”

“I’m not really the religious type. I’ve got what I need,” you concede, leaning back on your palms as you watch the son of Hermes stand for a few extra seconds at the hearth. “Besides, my godrent is right over there, and Luke worries enough for me. It’s more his thing,” you say with a lazy smile. The campers filing out of the dining hall wave at you and you enthusiastically greet everyone with dancing fingers. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that…happy to be on the job, but things work differently around here, so he doesn’t think much of your upbeat attitude.

“Eat up. Some of that strength has to go to you. Gonna need it.” You say ruffling Percy’s hair, and when Luke comes back, he tugs at the shoelaces of your boots until you kick his hands away. You both share a smile like people do a secret, even here in the open air.

“Do they like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?” Percy says curiously, eating another spoonful of the meal. His head hurts at another thing to consider in this brand-new world he’s walked into.

“They like the smell of begging,” Luke grins, and you laugh like a firework going off, making Percy’s lips pull up into a smile.

“I’m not much of a beggar though, if you ask me.”

The son of Hermes hums at you like he wants to say otherwise, and you slap his chest as you suck air through your teeth. Beneath the wood top of the table and with Percy being none the wiser, your fingers intertwine with Luke’s like it’s second nature. 

“You burn what you’ll miss the most. Then they know you really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen.” 

Luke takes a breath after explaining how things work for the nth time to the kid, knowing Percy’s quite persistent about making his dad notice him. He remembers being jaded too—striving to be the best for a lick of his dad’s attention and all of his efforts were done in vain. Even though the kid’s arrival at camp was a bit unexpected, Luke doesn’t mind showing him around. 

Hopefully, less work on your end means that he can spend more time with you once this is over with— but by the looks of how the day is going so far, he’s not so sure. He hopes his offerings reach the gods and they grant him extra patience for his good deeds. Watching you laugh at something Percy says as you all walk out of the dining pavilion, Luke wonders if you know that every offering he burns for the goddess of the hearth and home is so that she’ll protect you.

—

“Lights out in 10 minutes, cabin 11! Everyone ready for bed?”

The sound of your voice jolts Percy awake from his post-dinner nap and he blinks slowly until he sees you walking towards him with extra blankets and pillows in your grasp. The other campers were kind of stand-offish, and after praying to his mom he was overwhelmed with the feeling of missing her, so much so that it drained the rest of his energy.

“Long day, huh bud?”

Drowsy with sleep, for a moment, Percy forgets where he is—the unfamiliar walls of the cabin making him shift with unease as he rubs at his eyes. The blurry version of you makes his chest go warm and for a second, it’s like—

“Mom?”

He blinks again, his pale face turning red when he realizes his slip-up. Percy’s shoulders drop when he hears giggles from somewhere in the big cabin and you reach out to smooth his hair away from his face with a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone who first comes to 11 gets nightmares. For some of them, they don’t leave,” you mutter. Percy notices your eyes flicker over to Luke’s bed, where he’s zipping up his hoodie and chatting with one of his half-siblings. Cabin 11 is finally quieting down for the night—children scrambling into their bunks, doing nighttime routines, and having quiet conversations. It’s all so weird, this being everyone’s normal.

“You’re not alone though. Saw you earlier, outside. I still pray to my mom sometimes. She's quite the listener,” you say with a sad twinkle in your eye. The kid sniffs as you hand him the pillows and blankets, finally meeting your gaze.

“Did your mom…” Die too? The words feel like lead in his throat, feeling heavy as he swallows it down. He doesn’t want to cry in front of the pretty counselor, much less speak the truth, because if he says it out loud, it means his mom dying must have been real. Also, you’ve seen him sit in the dark of the forest burning blue jelly beans like a freak. What he didn’t know is that you pride yourself on being one. It takes one to know one, after all.

“Yeah. Makes for one hell of an origin story, but I found my place here, and people who care. I know you will too, when you’re rea—” Your words trail off when you see Luke walk past the both of you with a cool expression before he nods towards the door, and you squeeze Percy’s shoulder before getting up.

“Night guys! It’s getting late so we’ll have to do a story next time, okay?” You walk down the aisle patting heads and tucking in smaller campers, and he hears you whack the younger Stoll brother when he teasingly says, “It’s not fair that Luke gets a bedtime story and we don’t…”

“Connor, enough. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up and called me mom, so save it for tomorrow, chuckles.” He must have been the one laughing earlier.

“Everyone say goodnight Trouble!” Luke calls out with a coy expression, making you roll your eyes as you flick the light off to a symphony of jeers. It’s finally quiet as Percy is propped up against some pillows that smell like raspberries and soft cotton before he realizes he has to pee. 

But Chris said harpies hunt kids after curfew… he thinks.

In a moment of sheer panic, Percy looks around in the darkness of the cabin before the sound of your cackling pierces through the dim light from the outside. He hops up from the makeshift cot and tugs his shoes back on, slowly creeping past the long row of bunks to not disturb other campers before he gets to the door. Your head turns quickly to the intrusion as you spring away from Luke, stubbing a cigarette underneath the wood panel out of sight when Percy steps through the doorway. 

“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom,” he says sheepishly as Luke nods, scratching his neck and leaning a far distance away from you. Under the low burning lamps, Percy notices Luke’s cheeks redden and he wonders if he is interrupting something, but the urge to go increases as he steps between you two.

“Right. I’ll walk you to yours?” Luke blurts in one breath. With a wordless smile on your lips, you nod before Percy purposely interrupts this time.

“I can walk her, it’s on the way to the bathrooms, right?”

If only this poor kid knew he was being the cockblock of the century.

“Yeah, Percy’s got me. The harpies won’t like you missing curfew, Castellan,” you tease, stepping around him with a shit-eating grin. Your hair almost floats in the gentle breeze, and Luke rolls his eyes.

“Stay out of trouble. I mean it," he sighs, before shoving you off the porch, and you laugh at the irony of his words. Looking back at Luke, Percy noticed his eyes were on you like he wanted to live in your skin, which was equal parts disgusting and confusing to the 12-year-old. His steps double in pace as you both walk down the path and a brief side glance at your stifled smile quickly makes the kid wonder if you’d let him.

Pushing the sleeves of Luke’s hoodie past your elbows, you wave at Percy’s rushing figure as he almost bolts to the bathroom and you lean against the doorway of your empty cabin. You turn the light on and look across the way to see your boyfriend still leaning against his door, so you flip him off. Of course, he takes that as his cue to saunter over.

But then the loud clanging sound of pipes bursting reaches both of your ears and toilet water floods the dirt near the back end of your cabin. 

So close.

“I’m gonna go check on Annie to see if she’s still on duty. Tough luck, babe,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before walking in the direction that Percy went, sending the son of Hermes to drag his feet towards your cabin, alone (he didn’t expect to fall asleep propped over your covers waiting up for you, but a lot happened in that damn bathroom).

—

“Hey, today feel like a winning kind of day to you?” Annabeth smirks at the son of Hermes. Next to them, Percy feels a hand clap him on the shoulder and all three of them turn to see you donning red.

“Didn’t you three hear the conch? Wouldn’t want you to fall behind,” you say with a grin as Luke steps up to you and whistles lowly.

“Didn’t know you were playing today. It’s a shame you look that good in red.”

Annabeth fake gags as she crosses her arms to say, “You’re also currently on enemy territory if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, you wound me. I’m not a threat. Percy, I obviously don’t have the flag, right?”

He nods a bit dumbly, still worried about the mechanics of the game and the part he has to play for the blue team, but no one else seems to share his concerns.

“Anyways, sorry I’m not on your team, Perce. The Ares kids snatched me up as soon as my name was on the roster, so I came to wish you all luck.”

“This better not be a diversion tactic, Trouble,” Luke simpers, playfully tugging at your staff, which you use for leverage to step up onto a rock to meet him at eye level.

“Nah. You know I like the competition, angelface,” you whisper, almost daring him to do something.

“Bite me, Trouble.”

There’s a fire in his eyes you’d love to stoke, but now’s not the time or place. You can’t help but indulge though—the both of you enjoy the reactions you can pull from each other.

“You’d like it too much.”

“Alright now,” Annabeth groans, calling your name, rolling her eyes as she pulls at Luke’s arm, “Gotta remember he’s your enemy!” 

“I’M TRYING!” You laugh, shaking your head and walking back towards your team as you shoot them a fake salute. It all happens too quickly as Percy’s unable to catch the spitfire words between the two of you, thinking further about how he might get maimed during this game (which in the grand scheme of things, he almost does. Thanks Clarisse).

“Those two are hopeless! Walk faster, sunshine—we lost too much time watching whatever that was.” Percy stumbles along the forest path as he follows Annabeth, the both of them leaving Luke smirking to himself as he follows the rest of their team. 

Hours later, at Clarisse’s muddy feet and holding her broken spear, Percy hears cheering in the distance as he watches the blue team led by Luke waving the red flag in one hand and your legs supported by his other. You’re in a fireman’s hold across his shoulders and everyone watches as the son of Hermes spins you around like a Tilt-a-Whirl until the sound of your shrieks is audible from the shoreline.

He sets you down gently, dominant hand still around your waist as he snickers, “Got my win and my girl. Must be time to celebrate.” You laugh at his absurdity, pulling his helmet off and wiping the sweat off his forehead with your bandana.

“You’re always going to be a loser in my eyes.” 

Slapping the plush of your hip, the sound echoes in the air—suddenly quiet as you gasp. But you’re not looking at Luke anymore, but rather the gleaming trident above Percy’s head as it’s revealed he’s a Forbidden Child. His jaw tightens at the sight, and there are a lot of emotions running through him, remembering Thalia and knowing that his plans will have to be altered once more because of Percy Jackson. You squeeze his hand before walking away from him to follow your dad and Chiron to the Big House, shooting him a nervous glance.

Damn.

—

The boys have been sparring for hours, and just as you think Percy’s getting the hang of it, Luke thrusts forward with an energy no one should have towards a 12-year-old. Although a bit concerning, he does have a lot to catch up on how to fight like a demigod before his quest in a few days.

“Take a break or else you’ll be crawling away from camp by the end of the week,” you joke, handing Percy and Luke bottles of cold water. Your boyfriend takes big gulps before pouring the rest over his head, leaving you gaping and a little hot under his stare as he nudges your chin and winks.

“You’re doing that on purpose!”

Luke shrugs slyly, and the both of you watch Percy catch his breath. He leans over your shoulder, the tone of his voice sultry as it tickles your ear, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.” 

You bite your lip, before bursting with laughter—which isn’t exactly the reaction he thought you’d have. Maybe he should’ve finished reading the sonnet before falling asleep, but you always take too long with your nighttime skincare routine.

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re cute for trying,” you coo, leaning closer so that your cheek touches his. Luke’s whole face is warm from exertion and now embarrassment, but he smiles nonetheless at the proximity. He can’t believe he still misses you, even when you’re skin-to-skin like this.

“That stanza…Isn’t it about names being meaningless?” Percy says between gasps of air before he pours the rest of the water bottle over his head like Luke did. He’s looking up at the both of you as he leans against a tree, instantly feeling more rejuvenated.

You jerk up from your seated position on the large rocks, excited to talk about Shakespeare, and Luke almost pouts at the loss of your attention.

“Yeah! Good job, bud. I forget you went to a hoity-toity charter school,” you say tongue-in-cheek, before turning back to your boy.

“So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and, for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself. You’re gonna have to interpret that one yourself, angelface.” 

“Trust I have no fucking clue but you sound really hot when you talk dirty to me,” Luke says with a shrug. Percy laughs at that, before finally bringing up the question that’s been on his mind since Luke introduced you to him.

“Why do you call her Trouble? She seems okay to me.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly, but the older boy leans on his arm with a lovestruck expression as he gazes at you. Oh…Percy thinks, brain feeling freshly washed. How did he miss that?

“She used to get in trouble a lot,” he says, before you elbow him hard, “I mean, we used to get in trouble, she’d always drag me into it.”

“You always offered! Don’t twist the fucking story,” you shriek, and the boys laugh at your exasperation.

“Yeah anyways, she’d always find me. Still does, my partner in crime. Trouble always comes for me,” Luke murmurs, waggling his eyebrows and intertwining your fingers together. Your jaw drops and cheeks flush and Percy thinks he understands better now, but gets confused again with what you do next.

You almost slap the goddamn scar off that boy’s face.

—

It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. -Sylvia Plath

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[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (12)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 700+

- Previous part: 11

- Next part: 13

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The skies over Dragonstone were overcast, a heavy blanket of gray clouds that seemed to press down on the ancient fortress. The sea winds swept through the courtyard, carrying the salty tang of the ocean as you stood, watching the crimson form of Caraxes descend from the heavens. The Blood Wyrm was unmistakable, his long, serpentine body slicing through the air with a grace that belied his fearsome reputation. As Caraxes landed with a thud that sent vibrations through the stone beneath your feet, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of nostalgia and wariness.

It had been ten years since you’d left King’s Landing, ten years since you’d made your choice to live in exile with Rhaenyra, far from the politics and treachery of the court. Yet, even here, on the windswept isle of Dragonstone, the shadows of your past seemed ever-present. And now, with Daemon’s arrival, those shadows had come calling once more.

Daemon slid off Caraxes with a practiced ease, his movements as fluid and confident as ever. His silver hair, longer now, whipped around his face in the brisk wind. He wore a dark riding cloak that billowed behind him as he approached, his expression a curious blend of amusement and something else, something that made you tense.

“Nephew,” Daemon greeted, his lips curling into a wry smile as he stopped before you. “It’s been too long. I’d say Dragonstone suits you, though I must admit, the quiet life doesn’t seem quite your style.”

You clasped his arm in greeting, your grip firm as you met his gaze. “Daemon,” you replied, your tone cordial but guarded. “I’d say the same for you. But then, I don’t imagine you’ve come all this way just to admire the scenery.”

Daemon laughed, a low, almost conspiratorial sound. “No, no. Though I must say, the view from the skies is magnificent, as always.” His eyes gleamed with that familiar mischievous glint. “I couldn’t resist dropping in. I still remember the show we put on all those years ago—Lannister’s face was something to behold, wasn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Yes, you did enjoy yourself, didn’t you? Stirring up the hornet’s nest and then watching it burn.” There was a pause, then you added, more seriously, “But we’ve paid the price for it, haven’t we? Exiled from our father, from the crown. All for defying a marriage that should never have been considered.”

Daemon shrugged, as if such consequences were of little concern to him. “What’s life without a bit of rebellion, hmm? You and Rhaenyra made your choice, and I supported you then as I do now. Besides, it was amusing to see the Lannisters quiver for once. You took what was rightfully yours—no more, no less.”

You nodded, though the weight of the years spent in exile bore heavily on your shoulders. “But why are you here now, Uncle?” you asked, your voice turning serious. “You didn’t come all this way just to reminisce.”

Daemon’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more contemplative look. He took a moment, glancing around the courtyard, his eyes lingering on the old walls and the distant sea beyond. “Viserys sent me,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “He wishes to see you both. He’s… missed you, despite everything. The years have not been kind to him without his children. And he wants to meet his grandchildren.”

The mention of your father’s name brought a mix of emotions surging to the surface. You’d tried to bury your anger, your resentment, but hearing that Viserys wanted to see you now, after so many years of estrangement, felt like reopening an old wound.

“He wants to meet my children now?” you said, your voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil inside. “I suppose it’s been difficult for him, hasn’t it? So difficult that he married Alicent Hightower after Otto couldn’t push her onto me as well.” Bitterness seeped into your words. “And then he tried to do the same with Rhaenyra.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching you closely. “I won’t deny that Otto Hightower’s machinations played a part in all this. And yes, Viserys made his choices. Poor ones, perhaps. But he’s still your father, and the weight of his crown has only grown heavier over the years.”

You turned away, looking out toward the horizon where the sky met the churning sea. The memories of those last days in King’s Landing, the betrayal, the forced choices—it all felt too close, too raw, even now. “He was willing to sacrifice both of us for the sake of alliances, for the sake of his damned peace.”

“And now he’s paying the price for it,” Daemon said softly, his voice lacking its usual bite. “You and Rhaenyra—your absence has left a wound in him. He’s not the man you remember, nephew. The years, the burdens of the crown… they’ve taken their toll. He’s not well.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions inside you. Part of you wanted to scoff, to dismiss the idea that Viserys could feel regret, that he could truly want to reconcile. But another part of you, the part that remembered your father not as a king but as the man who had once held you and Rhaenyra close, who had smiled and laughed and told stories of old Valyria—that part of you ached to believe it.

“And what of Rhaenyra?” you asked, turning back to Daemon. “He’s banished her in all but name. What does he want from her now?”

Daemon sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “He wants his daughter back. He wants his son back. He wants to meet the children he’s only heard about in letters. Whatever anger or pride kept him away before, it’s fading. He’s sick, Y/N. And he’s afraid.”

You clenched your jaw, the conflicting emotions tearing at you. This was the last thing you had expected—a summons, an invitation to return after all these years. And yet, the thought of facing your father, of returning to that world of intrigue and betrayal, made your blood boil.

“It’s not that simple,” you said quietly. “We’ve built a life here. Our family is here. And after everything that’s happened…”

“No,” Daemon agreed. “It’s never simple. But he’s reaching out, in his own way. He’s trying to mend what’s broken. If you’re willing to listen.”

You looked down at the stones beneath your feet, the wind carrying the distant cries of the dragons above. This was a decision that couldn’t be made lightly. Too much was at stake—your family, your children, and Rhaenyra’s heart, which had been battered by years of rejection and exile.

“And if we say no?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Daemon shrugged, though there was a seriousness in his eyes that belied his casual posture. “Then you stay here, and the world keeps turning. But know this: Viserys is dying. If you don’t see him now, you may never have the chance to see him again.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. You turned away, your heart pounding as you tried to process what Daemon had said. It felt like a trap, like the last desperate plea of a man who had already lost too much. But there was also truth in it, a truth that made your chest ache.

“I’ll speak to Rhaenyra,” you said finally, your voice strained. “But I make no promises.”

Daemon nodded, his gaze understanding. “That’s all I ask, nephew.”

He turned then, walking back toward Caraxes, who waited patiently in the courtyard. As Daemon climbed back into the saddle, he looked back at you one last time, his expression solemn. “Take your time, Y/N. But don’t take too long.”

With a final nod, he urged Caraxes into the air, the great dragon’s wings beating powerfully as they lifted off the ground, the sound echoing across Dragonstone.

You watched as they disappeared into the sky, the wind whipping around you, carrying with it the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future. The decision lay heavy on your shoulders, a choice that could change everything once again.

The horns of the city rang out twice, their deep, resonant call echoing across the Red Keep and through the streets of King’s Landing. The sound brought King Viserys back from his restless thoughts, his frail form stiffening as he looked out the open window. His children had returned, just as Daemon had promised. The realization brought a mix of relief and trepidation to his heart.

Viserys turned to Ser Harrold Westerling, who stood dutifully at his side. The years had not been kind to the king; his skin was pallid, his frame thin and weakened, and his once proud stance was hunched, as if the weight of his crown had finally crushed him. His breathing was labored, each intake a struggle, but his eyes, though dimmed, were still sharp with anticipation.

“Ser Harrold,” Viserys said, his voice strained but determined. “Prepare an escort. The Prince and Princess are to be brought from the Dragonpit to the Red Keep with all the honor they are due. Ensure their children are treated with the respect of their station.”

Ser Harrold bowed, his face a mask of concern. “As you command, Your Grace.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the king’s weary form. “Shall I summon the Maester? You seem... unwell.”

Viserys waved him off, his hand trembling. “I’ll see my children first. There will be time for rest later.”

With a nod, Ser Harrold left to make the arrangements, leaving Viserys alone in the chamber. The king took a deep, shuddering breath, leaning heavily on his cane as he made his way toward the door. Each step was a struggle, but the thought of seeing you and Rhaenyra again after so many years gave him strength he had thought long gone.

The courtyard of the Red Keep was filled with anticipation as the welcoming party assembled. Lords and ladies, retainers and servants all gathered, whispering among themselves as they awaited the arrival of the Prince and Princess. Viserys stood at the head of the party, flanked by his Kingsguard and councilors. His gaze was fixed on the grand entrance, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

And then, you rode in, leading the procession on horseback, Rhaenyra at your side. The sight of you both, after so long, took his breath away. You had changed in the ten years you’d been away—no longer the young man who had left King’s Landing in a storm of rebellion and defiance. Your hair, still the pale blond of your Targaryen lineage, was longer now, pulled back into a neat braid. Your features were more defined, a hardness in your jaw and eyes that spoke of battles fought and won. You wore dark armor, polished but unadorned, the emblem of House Targaryen etched into the breastplate. There was an air of command about you, a strength and resolve that had grown in your years of exile. But there was also something colder, a guardedness in your expression that made Viserys’s heart ache.

Rhaenyra rode beside you, her presence as commanding as ever. Her silver hair, loose and windswept, framed her face, and her violet eyes were fixed ahead, the only hint of her anxiety the slight tension in her jaw. Behind you both, riding on smaller horses, were your children—Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. They sat tall in their saddles, their expressions a mixture of awe and trepidation as they took in the grandeur of the Red Keep.

You dismounted first, your movements fluid and controlled, as you stepped forward to greet your father. Rhaenyra followed suit, helping the children down from their mounts. Viserys felt a lump in his throat as he watched, his eyes lingering on his grandchildren, whom he was seeing for the first time in the flesh.

“Father,” you greeted, your voice formal and cold. The title was spoken without warmth, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of disappointment and disdain. “It’s been a long time.”

Viserys’s heart clenched at the harshness in your tone, the bitterness that lay just beneath the surface. He took a faltering step forward, leaning heavily on his cane. “Y/N...” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You’ve... you’ve grown into a fine man. I—”

“Save the pleasantries, Father,” you interrupted, your voice low but cutting. “We both know why we’re here. You sent Daemon to bring us back after ten years of silence. What is it you truly want?”

The courtyard seemed to still at your words, the gathered nobles exchanging uneasy glances. Rhaenyra stood slightly behind you, her face unreadable as she placed a reassuring hand on Jacerys’s shoulder. The boy looked up at his mother, his eyes wide with uncertainty, but he remained silent.

Viserys swallowed, the pain in his chest worsening. “I wanted... I needed to see you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve missed you both, more than I can say. And I... I want to meet my grandchildren.” His eyes moved to the three boys, his gaze softening. “They... they’re beautiful, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra inclined her head, her expression guarded. “They are my pride, Father.” Her tone was polite but distant, and Viserys felt the chasm between them, one that had only widened with time.

You turned to Alicent then, who stood beside Otto, her face pale and tense. “Alicent,” you greeted, your tone almost polite but edged with disdain. “Or should I say, Your Grace?” You gave her a curt nod. “I must confess, I’m unsure of how to address you now.”

Alicent flinched at the coldness in your voice, her eyes lowering for a moment as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Prince Y/N,” she began, her voice strained but steady. “It is... good to see you after so long. The king has been unwell, and it is a comfort to him to have his family near once more.”

“Family,” you echoed, the word heavy with irony. “Yes, I suppose that’s what we are. Though I doubt Rhaenyra and I were much of a comfort to him when he chose to marry you.”

Alicent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she forced herself to meet your gaze. “I never wished to cause you or Rhaenyra pain,” she said quietly, her voice sincere despite the tension between you. “I—”

“Stop,” you said, your tone softening just slightly. You could see the pain in her eyes, and though part of you wanted to lash out, you restrained yourself. “This isn’t about you, Alicent.”

Before the silence could stretch any further, Maester Mellos stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Prince Y/N, Princess Rhaenyra,” he greeted, his tone deferential. “Welcome back to King’s Landing. We have much to discuss, but for now, let us focus on your safe return.”

You nodded curtly, though your gaze remained on your father. “Yes, there is much to discuss.”

The tension in the courtyard was palpable as you turned to Tyland Lannister, who had remained silent through the exchange. His face was a mask of civility, though there was a tightness around his eyes as he forced a smile.

“Prince Y/N,” Tyland greeted, his voice strained. “It’s good to see you again. The realm has missed your presence. We hope you’ll find King’s Landing... accommodating.”

You studied him for a moment, your expression unreadable. “Lord Tyland,” you said finally. “I hope your brother has recovered from the shock of our departure all those years ago.”

Tyland’s smile faltered, but he kept his composure. “Lord Jason has moved on, as have we all,” he replied, his voice tight.

Before the exchange could escalate further, Otto Hightower stepped forward, his voice smooth and diplomatic. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside, Your Grace, Your Highness. We’ve had food and wine prepared, and there is much to discuss.”

Viserys nodded, though his gaze remained on you and Rhaenyra, his eyes lingering on the boys beside her. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, let us go inside.”

You exchanged a glance with Rhaenyra, who gave a small nod. The five of you—husband, wife, and children—followed the king into the Keep, the tension hanging over the family like a storm waiting to break.

The grand hall of the Red Keep was filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation as the family gathered for the first meal they had shared in over a decade. The long table was set with an abundance of food and drink, from roasted game and fresh fruits to flagons of fine Dornish wine. Yet, despite the luxurious spread, the atmosphere was strained, the tension palpable in every glance, every word exchanged.

Viserys sat at the head of the table, his frail frame dwarfed by the opulent chair. He watched his family with a mixture of relief and trepidation, his gaze flickering between you, Rhaenyra, and your children, and then to Alicent, who sat to his right, her expression carefully composed. On the other side of Alicent were her children—Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena—all of whom sat quietly, their eyes darting curiously to you and Rhaenyra.

You and Rhaenyra were seated directly across from Alicent, your children beside you. Jacerys and Lucerys were trying to appear composed and dignified, their youthful faces betraying their unease in such an imposing setting. Joffrey, the youngest, shifted restlessly in his seat, glancing up at the grand, unfamiliar surroundings. You reached out and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, a small smile on your lips.

Viserys cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “It is... heartening to have my family together once more,” he began, his voice weak but sincere. “We have much to discuss, but let us first enjoy this meal.”

The conversation started tentatively, with polite inquiries about the children and your life on Dragonstone. But as the meal progressed, Viserys turned the topic to the elephant in the room, his eyes resting on you and Rhaenyra.

“I understand,” Viserys said slowly, his gaze shifting from you to Rhaenyra, “that you were married in the old Valyrian chapel on Dragonstone. An ancient and sacred place.”

You inclined your head slightly, your expression neutral. “Yes, Father. Rhaenyra and I were wed there, according to the customs of our ancestors.” Your tone was measured, but there was a subtle edge to it. “It is as valid a marriage as any other in the eyes of our house and tradition.”

Tyland Lannister, seated a few places down, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His lips pressed into a thin line as he recalled the enormous sum House Lannister had spent on the grand wedding that never took place, not to mention the damage to the Sept near Casterly Rock. “Of course, Prince Y/N,” he said, his voice strained. “One can hardly dispute the... sanctity of such a union. Though the Sept where... your departure occurred still bears the scars of that day.” He forced a polite smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

You gave him a cool look, your expression unyielding. “I’m sure House Lannister can afford a few repairs, Lord Tyland.”

Tyland’s jaw tightened, but he did not press the matter further, his hand clenching around his goblet.

Alicent, who had been observing the exchange quietly, set down her knife and fork, her eyes lingering on you and Rhaenyra, then shifting to the children seated beside you. There was an underlying tension in her gaze, a restrained irritation that simmered beneath her polite facade. It was a feeling she had harbored for years, one that had only grown as she watched you and Rhaenyra defy everything the realm expected of you.

She couldn’t help but wonder, as she often had, if Rhaenyra had deliberately lured you into her bed before you left for the Dornish border. Had she seduced you, entangled you in her web to secure your loyalty and affection so completely that you would defy the king and steal her away from her own wedding? The thought gnawed at her, though she pushed it down, focusing instead on the repulsion she felt at your union. To her, who had been raised in the Faith of the Seven, your marriage was an affront, a sinful act of selfishness that mocked the very traditions she held dear.

As Alicent’s gaze lingered on your children—on Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey—Rhaenyra felt the weight of her scrutiny. She looked up sharply, her eyes locking with Alicent’s. There was no warmth in Rhaenyra’s gaze, only a cold, defiant challenge. For a moment, the two women stared at each other, the years of bitterness and betrayal hanging between them like a shadow.

“Rhaenyra,” Viserys said suddenly, breaking the tension, his tone filled with a forced cheerfulness. “I must say, the boys have grown strong and handsome. I would very much like to get to know my grandsons better.”

Rhaenyra tore her gaze away from Alicent, her expression softening as she looked at her father. “They are as spirited as their namesakes,” she replied, her voice steady. “Jacerys and Lucerys have been practicing their swordplay, and Joffrey, well... he is still finding his way, but he has the heart of a dragon.”

Viserys smiled, though the effort seemed to cost him. “I look forward to seeing them in the training yard. Perhaps they could even teach their uncles a thing or two.” He gestured toward Alicent’s children, who had been watching the exchange in silence.

Aegon, now a young man, glanced at you and Rhaenyra with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something darker that he hid behind a lazy smirk. Aemond, his face serious, studied you with the intensity of someone trying to understand an enemy. Helaena, on the other hand, seemed lost in her own world, her fingers tracing patterns on the tablecloth as she muttered softly to herself.

You looked at your half-siblings, your expression unreadable. “We will see, Father,” you said evenly. “It’s been a long time since we’ve shared such... family activities.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, she almost spoke, her lips parting as if to say something, but then she stopped, her fingers tightening around the stem of her goblet. She looked at Viserys instead, forcing a smile. “The children have missed having their father present. I’m sure it would do them good to spend time with their family,” she said, though her words felt hollow.

Viserys nodded, his eyes distant. “Yes, yes... family. It is what binds us, even when we are apart.” He looked at you then, his gaze lingering on the hardness in your eyes, the guarded expression on your face. “Y/N, Rhaenyra... these years have been difficult for us all. But now that you are here, perhaps we can begin to heal these wounds.”

“We’ll see,” you said quietly, your tone flat. “It’s not so easily done, Father.”

The conversation drifted on, the tension ebbing and flowing with each exchange. The food was eaten, though few seemed to have much appetite. The wine was poured, though most drank sparingly. The atmosphere remained strained, the past casting long shadows over the present.

Aegon, his gaze flicking between you and Rhaenyra, leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “So, what’s life like on Dragonstone, brother? It must be... exciting, living among the dragons and the ghosts.”

You looked at him, your expression cool. “It has its challenges,” you replied, your voice calm. “But it’s home.”

“And the people there?” Aemond asked, his tone more direct. “Do they welcome you as their Prince, or do they fear the dragon that stole the princess away?”

There was a sharp intake of breath around the table, but you merely raised an eyebrow. “The people of Dragonstone know where their loyalties lie,” you said smoothly. “And they respect those who defend them, not those who sit idle in luxury.”

The barb hit its mark, and Aemond’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Alicent spoke up, her voice strained but firm. “That’s enough, Aemond.” She turned to you, her gaze steady. “Y/N, Rhaenyra... despite everything, I am glad you are here. For the king’s sake, if nothing else.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tightened, but she inclined her head slightly. “For the king’s sake,” she echoed, her voice tinged with bitterness.

The uneasy quiet was punctuated by the occasional clink of cutlery against porcelain, the scrape of a chair, or the hushed murmur of a courtier whispering nervously. Though there were many gathered at the table, it felt as if there were only two camps—those who stood with you and Rhaenyra, and those who supported Alicent and her children. And, of course, King Viserys, caught between them all, like a man trying to hold back a tide with his bare hands.

Alicent set down her goblet, her fingers lingering around the base, and cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the table. Her eyes moved from Rhaenyra to you, then back to Rhaenyra, a calculated look in them. “Rhaenyra,” she began, her voice polite but edged with something sharper. “It’s been so many years since you left. We all... wondered what compelled you to take such drastic actions.” She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I suppose, after everything, you must have had your reasons for eloping and leaving your family behind.”

Rhaenyra stiffened, her fingers curling around the stem of her goblet. “My reasons, as you put it, were very clear, Alicent.” Her tone was steady, but you could hear the barely restrained anger beneath the surface. “I chose to marry the man I love, the man I wanted to spend my life with. That is a choice that, as I recall, was not available to you.”

A sharp intake of breath rippled around the table, courtiers exchanging glances. Alicent’s smile faltered, but she recovered quickly, her eyes flashing with something dark. “You’re right, of course. Duty has often dictated my choices. But not everyone has the luxury to simply follow their heart, especially when the stability of the realm is at stake.” Her voice was soft, but there was steel in it.

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed. “The stability of the realm? Is that what you call forcing me into a marriage with Jason Lannister? All for some political gain?” She leaned forward, her voice rising slightly. “You speak of duty, Alicent, but don’t pretend for a moment that you or your father haven’t benefited greatly from those same decisions.”

Alicent’s face flushed, but she kept her composure. “We all have a role to play, Rhaenyra. You were supposed to be the princess, to stand by your father’s side, not flee to Dragonstone with your brother and leave the rest of us to pick up the pieces.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to retort, but you reached out, placing a hand on her arm, your touch gentle but firm. “Enough,” you said quietly, though your voice carried authority. You turned to Alicent, your gaze steady and unreadable. “We did what we felt was right, given the circumstances. And it’s clear those decisions were not made lightly.”

Alicent met your gaze, her eyes searching, as if trying to understand you, trying to find the man she remembered. “And what circumstances were those, Y/N?” she asked, her voice softer now. “What was so dire that it justified breaking your father’s heart and turning your back on the realm?”

You exhaled slowly, your eyes flicking to Viserys, who watched the exchange with a pained expression. “Our father was forcing Rhaenyra into a marriage she did not want, to a man she did not love. And he was willing to do the same to me.” Your voice was calm but firm. “I made a promise to protect my sister, and I will not apologize for keeping that promise.”

The hall was silent, every eye on you and Alicent. You could see the hurt in her eyes, the resentment she tried to hide behind her composed mask. You turned away from her then, focusing on Otto Hightower, who had been watching the exchange with a calculating expression.

“Lord Hightower,” you said, your voice carrying the weight of your title. “Perhaps you could enlighten us on the current state of the realm. I would hope that as heir to the throne, I would be made aware of any... pressing matters.”

Otto leaned forward slightly, a faint smile on his lips as he addressed you. “Of course, Prince Y/N. The realm is... stable, for the most part. The Stepstones remain a volatile area, despite Prince Daemon’s recent efforts. There are still struggles with Dorne, though nothing that threatens immediate conflict.” He paused, his gaze shrewd. “There have been whispers of unrest in the Riverlands, but they have been managed thus far.”

You nodded, though your expression remained serious. “And what of the alliances formed in my absence? Surely, there have been changes in the political landscape.”

Otto’s smile widened, though it did not reach his eyes. “Indeed. Since your departure, several key marriages have strengthened ties with the Reach and the Stormlands. The marriage of your sister, Princess Helaena, to Prince Aegon has also ensured a more unified front within House Targaryen.”

You glanced at Aegon, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He looked at you with a mix of curiosity and disdain, his mouth twisted into a faint smirk. “And what of your marriage, Y/N?” Aegon drawled, his voice carrying across the table. “I’ve heard many tales of the... unique customs on Dragonstone.”

You shot him a cold look, your patience wearing thin. “My marriage is as strong as any in this room,” you said sharply. “And it is recognized by those who matter.”

Before Aegon could respond, Viserys raised a hand, his voice trembling but determined. “Enough of this bickering. We are here as a family, not as political adversaries.” He looked at you and Rhaenyra, his eyes pleading. “I have missed you both terribly. And I wish to see my grandchildren grow up knowing their family. Whatever has happened, we must find a way to move forward. Together.”

There was a moment of silence, the king’s words hanging heavy in the air. You glanced at Rhaenyra, whose face softened slightly, her anger ebbing away in the face of her father’s frailty.

But Alicent wasn’t done. She turned back to Rhaenyra, her eyes hardening. “And what of your sons, Rhaenyra?” she asked, her voice deceptively light. “You’ve been away so long. Do you ever wonder what kind of life they could have had here, at court? Among their family?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze snapped to Alicent, her eyes narrowing. “My sons are dragons, Alicent. They belong on Dragonstone, among their people, not in this nest of vipers.” Her voice was cold, each word a dagger.

A murmur rippled through the courtiers, tension rising. You could see Otto’s calculating gaze flick between you and Rhaenyra, as if weighing the implications of every word spoken.

Alicent���s face tightened, but she didn’t back down. “I suppose that’s one way to see it,” she said quietly. “But a child should know their family. Even if that family isn’t perfect.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare presume to lecture me on family, Alicent. You, who wormed your way into my father’s bed, who bore children of your own while trying to strip me of everything that was mine.”

The tension at the table was suffocating now, every courtier’s gaze fixed on the two women, their faces pale with the anticipation of what might come next.

Before the situation could escalate further, you interjected, your voice calm but firm. “We will discuss this another day,” you said, your eyes moving between Alicent and Rhaenyra. “This is not the time or place for such discussions.”

Alicent’s gaze flicked to you, her eyes filled with a mixture of resentment and sadness. “You’ve changed, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “You used to care more about... so many things.”

You felt a pang in your chest, but you forced it down, your expression unyielding. “I still care, Alicent. But my priorities have changed.” You glanced at your children, who were watching the exchange with wide eyes, their confusion and fear evident. “My family is what matters now. And I will protect them, no matter the cost.”

A silence fell over the table, the weight of your words settling like a stone. Viserys looked between you and Alicent, his eyes filled with a deep sorrow, as if he were watching his family splinter before his eyes.

Otto, ever the diplomat, leaned forward slightly, his tone soothing. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time. For now, let us focus on what unites us, rather than what divides us.”

Viserys nodded slowly, though his gaze remained troubled. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes, let us try to be... a family again.”

The meal continued in strained silence.

The bedchamber in the Red Keep felt both familiar and foreign after so many years. The room was adorned with rich tapestries depicting dragons in flight and the Targaryen sigil emblazoned proudly on the walls, a constant reminder of your heritage and the legacy you bore. The soft flicker of candles illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the plush rugs and the intricately carved bed that dominated the center of the room.

You stood near the window, gazing out over the sprawling city of King’s Landing, the lights of the city twinkling like distant stars in the darkened sky. The sounds of the bustling capital, though muffled, reached your ears—the hum of voices, the distant clatter of hooves against cobblestone, the occasional call of a merchant trying to sell his wares even at this late hour. It was a strong contrast to the quiet, windswept solitude of Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra was across the room, slipping out of her gown and into a simpler, more comfortable robe. Her silver hair, loose now, cascaded down her back in waves. She watched you from the corner of her eye, sensing the tension in your posture, the heaviness in your shoulders.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence that had settled between you. “Are you all right?”

You sighed deeply, turning away from the window to look at her. “I’m not sure how to answer that,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration and sorrow. “Seeing him today... I barely recognized the man who was once our father. He’s a shadow of what he used to be.”

Rhaenyra moved closer, her bare feet silent on the thick rug. She reached out, placing a hand gently on your arm. “He’s aged more than the years should allow,” she agreed, her tone laced with sadness. “But it’s not just time, is it?”

You shook your head, your jaw clenched. “No, it’s not.” You turned back to the window, the city sprawling out beneath you, feeling impossibly far away. “It’s them. The Hightowers. Otto, Alicent... they’ve twisted him, manipulated him. I remember a time when he was strong, decisive. Now he seems... broken, as if they’ve drained the life out of him.”

Rhaenyra’s hand tightened on your arm, a gesture of solidarity. “They’ve poisoned his mind with their ambitions. Alicent has always been her father’s pawn, and Otto... he’s wanted to control the throne for as long as I can remember.”

You nodded, your eyes narrowing as you thought back to the day’s events, the way Otto’s gaze seemed to assess every word, every action, always calculating, always scheming. “I saw the way he looked at us today, weighing the situation, trying to find a way to turn it to his advantage. And Alicent...” You trailed off, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “She’s no different. They want to use Father as a puppet, to control the realm through him.”

Rhaenyra sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. “And he lets them. He let them slither their way into every corner of his life, every decision. He’s not the father who once stood before the council and proclaimed us his heirs, who would have fought for what was right, no matter the cost.”

You turned back to her, your eyes softening as you reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “I know, Rhaenyra. I know. But what can we do? If we push too hard, if we try to wrest control from them, it could tear the realm apart.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with defiance. “Then let it tear. We have dragons, Y/N. We have strength they can only dream of. We can remind them what true power looks like.”

You shook your head, your expression pained. “I don’t want to fight them, Rhaenyra. I don’t want to start a war. But I won’t let them continue to destroy what little remains of the father we once knew.”

She looked at you, her gaze intense, searching your face for answers, for a way forward. “Then what do we do?” she asked quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

You took a deep breath, your hand still lingering on her cheek. “We play their game, for now. We show them we’re not weak, but we don’t strike unless we have to. Father needs to see that we’re here, that we’re not abandoning him to their schemes. Maybe... maybe we can remind him of who he used to be.”

Rhaenyra leaned into your touch, her eyes closing briefly as she took comfort in your presence. “I want to believe that’s possible,” she murmured. “But I fear he’s too far gone. Every time I look at him, I see the pain in his eyes, the weight of all these years of being pulled in different directions. I see...” Her voice caught, and she paused, taking a shaky breath. “I see how they’ve taken him from us.”

You pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her, holding her tightly as if you could shield her from the world, from the pain that seemed to seep into every corner of your lives. “We’ll find a way, Rhaenyra. We have to.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the low lit chamber, the world outside forgotten as you held each other, drawing strength from the connection that had carried you through so much. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the distant sounds of the Red Keep—the footsteps of guards, the murmur of servants—faded into the background.

“Do you think he’ll see it?” Rhaenyra asked softly, her head resting against your chest. “Will he see that they’ve twisted everything, that they’ve made him into a tool for their own gain?”

You sighed, your fingers gently tracing circles on her back. “I don’t know. I hope so. But even if he does, I’m not sure he has the strength left to fight them.”

Rhaenyra pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours, fierce and determined. “Then we’ll be his strength. We’ll remind him that he’s not alone, that he still has us.”

You nodded, your gaze steady as you looked down at her. “We’ll fight for him, for the father we remember, for the man who once fought for us. But we have to be careful. We can’t let Otto and Alicent see us as a threat, not yet.”

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “For now, we’ll play the dutiful children. But if they push us too far...” Her voice trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging in the air.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “If they push us too far, we’ll remind them what it means to cross House Targaryen.”

A faint smile curved her lips, and she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I’m glad I have you by my side,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

“Always,” you murmured, your voice firm. “Now and forever.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, the weight of your responsibilities, your fears, and your love all intertwined in the quiet darkness of the chamber. 

[eternally-racing]

slip | lando norris

genre: angst + fluff

wc: 1k

warnings: none, there's maybe like 1 swear I think

summary: on a tough race weekend in qatar, you want to be there for Lando

-----

“What went wrong today in the car Lando?” 

You watch your boyfriend on your TV screen as your heart sinks when he says “Nothing, just a lack of talent”.  You know it had been a tough string of races for your blue-eyed boy, and this definitely wasn’t the first and would not be the last time that this happened, but you could tell something about this was really getting into Lando’s head.

I’m sorry about today, Lan. Give me a call whenever and we can chat <3 

You sigh as the message only tacks onto the last 3 unanswered messages you’ve sent to him. It’s not intentionally malicious, it never is with him. For so long Lando felt alone in the karting world that he got in the habit of getting in his head over a race weekend, and even with all the work you two have put into your relationship, sometimes he slips right back into those bad habits on those hard days. This wasn’t something you were going to let your boyfriend go through alone though, and that meant calling in some reinforcements. 

"Congrats on the first win Osc!"

“Thanks Y/N :) I know that’s not why you’re reaching out though…” 

Classic Oscar, you chuckle to yourself. He really is wise beyond his years. If anyone would be able to help you help Lando, you would hope that it would be his teammate. 

“It’s bad with him right now, isn’t it?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, but it still offers a glimmer of hope that maybe you’re being the overdramatic girlfriend and Lando’s actually fine. Unfortunately, that couldn’t be further from the truth when Oscar messages you back. 

“It’s really bad, Y/N. None of us know what to do. We need your help” 

That’s all the information you need before you’re setting your master plan into motion. You’re stuffing clothes into a duffle bag, calling in sick to work, and booking a plane ticket to head to Qatar yourself. There was only one moment of hesitation in the airport of “what the hell am I doing” before you look down at your lock screen of a smiley Lando out in the water in Bali. You wanted to bring that smile back so badly, and you hoped that this would be able to do that. Oscar is gracious enough to help you out with all the details of the team’s schedule for the weekend and the details of their hotel, but once you’re standing in front of Lando’s door the reality of the situation really hits you. You’ve come off nearly 12 hours of travel in one of Lando’s old sweatshirts and a pair of leggings, you haven’t looked in a mirror in equally as long which cannot be a good sign, and most of all you have no idea what you’re going to say to him once you see him. It had been a dream of yours to surprise Lando on a race weekend before - you had always imagined hiding in the driver’s room before FP1 and maybe pulling a cheeky prank or two when Lando showed up, but you had never prepared yourself for something like this. 

The key card to Lando’s room lays heavy in your hand, but you want to see if Lando will just open the door for you instead. The sound of your three quiet knocks on his door seem to fill the empty hallway, but you don’t hear any shuffling inside. 

“Hey Lan, it’s me.” are the only words you muster before you hear a clatter from inside. Your heart races as you can hear the click of the lock on the door. It’s truly like a scene in a movie, like time has slowed down for just the two of you. Lando rubs at his eyes like he’s seen a ghost, and it’s only when you reach out to touch his cheek does Lando realize that holy shit, you’re really here. He pulls you into his arms so tight that you feel like you can barely breathe and that’s when you hear it. Lando’s not just crying, he’s sobbing into your arms. The dam had finally broken and Lando had someone he could share his burdens with. You’re not sure how long you two stay there like that, Lando’s tears wetting the shoulder of your sweatshirt, you rubbing his back while whispering sweet nothings to him. Your boyfriend clings to you like he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he lets go, and there’s now a comfortable air between you both. Once you finally pull away and can get a good glimpse at each other, it really sinks in for you that Lando is finally in front of you. While the point of this trip was of course to support your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny that having a long distance relationship for so long had taken a toll on you as well and you were thrilled to finally see him again, regardless of the circumstances. 

“Wow Y/N, you look…” 

You chuckle and finish Lando’s sentence off for him. “Like garbage I think are the words you’re looking for, Lan” you say as you pick off a piece of cat hair from your sweatshirt that only serves to further prove your point. 

“Beautiful, I was gonna say beautiful” Lando says softly, “but honestly I look like a hot mess right now so maybe we’d make a more perfect pair if we go with your description”. He gives you that cheeky smile that you’ve missed so much as he finishes his sentences, and before you know it you’re both giggling like teenagers together. For a moment it feels like you’re just regular Lando and Y/N on the couch back in Lando’s apartment fighting over what movie to watch on Netflix, not like you’re both in the middle of one of the most stressful race weekends of Lando’s career so far. 

The rest of the evening is filled with comfort and joy, and when Lando drives to P3 all the way from starting in P10 tomorrow, you’re the first person that Lando searches for in the crowd. A “thank you” is all that he musters out while you’re in his arms, but you can see from his eyes that he means so much more than that.

[megamindsupremacy]

So. ive been going through your billy batson tag bc im very normal and super hinged about this kid and you ARE right about Billy growing up the normal way and how that would effect him, but I need us all to consider the opposite: The Magic went "Ah, he's pure of heart bc he is but a lad", and not *letting* him grow up. Billy being immortal but stuck as a kid forever. The realization everyone is going to grow up w/o him. That he is *always* going to be a kid. That could be a very bad time too.

OH MY HEART. you're so right and i'm kissing you on the mouth. okay i need to marinate in this now stand by

so I think it's fairly accepted now that the Wizard chose Billy to be Shazam when he was so young because all of the previous Champions were adults, and that went Badly (see: Black Adam). So obviously, if the adults can do the whole superhero thing, then we should give the role to a kid. But then, to take it a step further: if the adults can't do the superhero thing, then we should make the next Champion stay a kid.

And like, it takes a hot minute for Billy to notice. Say he became CM at 8 - he doesn't know the average rate of growth for a boy. He just thinks he's not getting as tall as quickly as his peers. It's not like there's adult supervision around to go "hello small small child, why are you still small and a child?" I could see him going at least a few years before realizing there might be something wrong. Then it takes him a little bit to figure out what exactly is wrong, and then a little longer to be in denial, before he finally has to come to terms with, yeah, he really is 8 years old for the rest of forever.

I wonder how it affects him, mentally? Because you could go one of two ways: either he stays mentally an 8 year old forever and doesn't mature, although he gains knowledge and experience with time, or he does mentally mature and becomes an adult, just stuck in the body of a child.

For angst reasons, I like the second one, but realistically, the whole reason he's in this mess is because the Wizard wanted someone who was pure of heart to stay pure of heart. Why go through all the trouble to not let him physically age but allow his mind to change? So now we have an eternally "both mentally and physically a child" situation.

I feel like, when you're that young, you can't really... process how devastating that is? He's only a little kid - at that age, you can't even imagine turning 18 yet, much less living out the rest of your life as an adult. He doesn't know what he's lost. So instead of Billy angst, it's outsider POV angst. Everyone is growing old and watching Billy stay the same as always. I imagine he reveals his identity at some point, a while into being Captain Marvel, and they have a Twilight moment of "I'm 8" "....how long have you been 8?" ("no, but actually, we've known you for 12 years, you can't actually be 8. what do you mean 'a wizard did it'."). Everyone is just quietly mourning the person Billy could have become, had he not been chosen to be the Champion of Magic, meanwhile Billy is living out the eternal childhood dream of Superpowers + Adult Body w/o Adult Responsibilities. It's tragic in a way Billy can never comprehend because of what the wizard did to him.

Feel free to add onto this post!

[senblades]

Hi :)

I love your art and your writing, and you have such a great grasp of these characters that I was wondering if you have any fic recs? Rating doesn't matter ;)

boy do I! (and ty for the compliment <3 <3 <3)

[cracks knuckles] alrighty:

The Dissapearence of Goro Akechi by Kupowonders - Probably my favourite fic ever, honestly- it's like. derailing the plot of persona 5 post-medjed thanks to the persona 4 accomplice ending years prior. (So, spoilers for p4 in that, too) it's. very good.

Marigolds by Colbub - Akechi gets ng+'ed to right when he started working for Shido, and has to take a good look at the future to come and be like "Aight how the fuck do I fix this". Fun times!

Daredevil, You've hit the wall by ez_cookie. Essentially, p5 Strikers but Sumire and Goro get to be in on the fun, too. And, there's a direct sequel currently being updated that's a similar premise for p5 Tactica. very very good stuff

A Tale of Two Tricksters by Zoe2k8 - Murder boyfriends! ...sort of? Angst! Angst and murder boyfriends! An oversimplification, obviously, but I'm not kidding when I say this fic is amazing and is also over a million words holy shit-

Throw away your mask by MollyPollyKinz - Another ng+ situation for Akechi, but this time the poor guy gets thrown all the way to 2009. You can imagine how well that goes (For the audience, less so for Akechi himself.)

The Crow Cries at Midnight by Dorked. hehe this one is very fun. Basically, a series of coincedencs causes Akechi to get thrown into the plot of persona 4. No time travel here! Just a grumpy 12/13 year-old Akechi trying to solve a murder mystery

The entire Tales of Chaos series by Eternalmomentss (The first one is called Like sand between your fingers) Very very good stuff! Something of a character study, I would say, of Ren and Goro. Plus, all the funky plot stuff that comes from trickster-typical bad luck and poor descision making. I really love this series hehe

uhh this post is getting very long I need to make this less wordy- lightning round?

Hunger for a life by Leonawriter - do you like vampires? I sure do! Mix that and the p5 plot and you get shenanigins. [evil laughter] a lot of shenanigins

Fishbowl by KivaEmber - Akechi has a terrible time in Maruki's reality. And I mean a terrible time

You have a beautiful smile underneath that mask by Saposaki - Akechi has a crush on Akira and Joker has a crush on Crow. No one is aware of the other's secret identity. Dramatic irony and hilarity ensues.

MASTERMiND by StumblingBlock - No Metaverse au where Akira really doesn't want to follow in the footsteps of his crime family, and fails miserably

Rose and Rot by SixteenJuniper - Read this!! I'm serious!! "A fun fantasy adventure" don't listen to Juniper. You'll be in tears by chapter two. (/pos, of course) (Seriously this fic is incredible)

Redressing the Balance by Convocated - ...almost a ng+? Ng+, in the sense that shuake are getting funky visions that are very quickly derailing the standard plot of p5r. This causes problems of the "Someone get the popcorn and maybe the tissues" variety

She's got a heartbeat full of lead (And she's aiming straight for the head) by Dots - This fic haunts me, often. In the best way possible, of course; but seriously, read it

Cracked into by SydneyHorses - Ren makes bad descisions and it becomes Akechi's problem. 2/2 timeloop, perhaps most notably featuring HaruGoro friendship! Love love love this fic

Okay that wasn't as "less wordy" as I intended but it'll do

Aaaand that's a wrap! Sorry for the long post.. and this is by no means all of the fics that I've ever loved (nor are the ones here in any particular order) but I swear we'll be here all week if I keep going HAHA

ty for the ask (and again for the kind words), anon! Hope this was helpful and to your tastes! (I... hope you like Shuake HAHA it's present in most of these- I assume you do, since you came to me (points at literally everything shuake I've made) of all people, but uh. Some of these fics are gen if it's not to your liking?)

[steddiehyperfixation]

wishful thinking

@steddie-spooktober day 12: graveyard | 1,058 words | T | canon compliant

“Hey, Eddie. Sorry Dustin couldn’t be here, you’re stuck with me today,” Steve says as he crouches down in front of Eddie’s gravestone. “Hope that’s alright.” 

Dustin usually comes by about once a week to clean the hate speech off, but he’s on vacation with his family right now, so Steve took it on himself to take up the mantle this week. It’s covered in slurs this time, angry red spray paint scrawled over a headstone that wishfully asserts that Eddie is ‘finally at peace.’ Bullshit, that. The graffiti and the headstone. How can he be at peace when all those witch-hunting dickheads are still stomping all over his grave? “I guess we don’t really give you much peace either though,” Steve muses aloud. “The kids visit you so much. Your uncle too. Kind of crazy - for all the hate you got, you were loved just as much too. Don’t know if that makes you feel better or anything.”  

He sighs, dunking a rag in a bucket of soapy water and beginning to scrub the paint off the gravestone. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, it’s not like you can hear me, wherever you are,” he says, though he still continues to talk regardless. It gives him something to do while he works. “I know Dustin talks to you a lot too. He says when he does he almost feels like you’re actually here, like you’re listening to him, sitting with him. He says that he imagines you responding to him, swears up and down that sometimes he really does hear you answering. But I know it’s just his imagination, wishful thinking. I think he knows that too. He just misses you. You dying really hit him hard, you know.” 

For all the years of crazy Upside-Down shit they’ve been through, Dustin had never lost someone so close to him before. It hardened something in him, left a hollow behind his eyes and an anger and cynicism in them that hadn’t been there before. Steve worries about that kid now more than ever. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not really there, that you can’t see the way he’s changed,” he tells Eddie’s grave. “I think it would just depress you. It depresses me. But, I don’t know, sometimes when he talks about how he thinks he can feel your presence here some of that old hope and light returns to his eyes. So maybe it’d actually be better if you really were still hanging around, if it’s not just in his imagination.”

He shrugs. “And maybe you are. Who knows, the world we live in these days. It’d make sense, I guess, that your spirit or whatever might come back down here for Dustin. You guys had that, like, nerd bond. Not for me though.” He huffs out a dry laugh and re-wets his cleaning rag. “Either way, I’m still just an idiot talking to myself in a graveyard. There’s no reason you’d come here for me. It’s not like we were really friends. We barely knew each other, we just went through the week from hell together and then you died.” 

He frowns as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn line of graffiti and he falls briefly quiet, chewing at his lip. His silence is more pensive than focused, old thoughts now swirled up to the surface in his mind.

“I think we could’ve been, though,” he says after a moment, “friends, I mean. If I’d’ve gotten the chance to know you better. If we’d had more time. We- maybe we could’ve even-” Steve falters, unable to speak aloud what he’s really thinking, not while he’s scraping off slurs that might be hurled at him next if anyone heard. He can’t say that that moment in the stolen camper van when Eddie leaned into his space and called him ‘big boy’ had made something strange and new slither in his stomach and warm his blood. He can’t say how he wishes they could’ve gotten the chance to explore that, all the things it made him wonder about. Instead he settles on, “I think I could’ve learned a lot from you…”

If Steve really wanted to torture himself he’d give into his imagination, picture Eddie standing beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder and replying We could’ve, like he knows everything Steve’s not saying and feels the same. Steve can practically feel the touch, hear his voice, could just about convince himself of it if he was enough of a masochist to. He has to glance at his shoulder, has to put his own hand there just to check for sure, to remind himself that there’s no one there. It’s just wishful thinking. He shakes his head and returns his attention to the headstone. 

His throat feels tight. “You shouldn’t have died, man,” he mutters. “You just shouldn’t have. I told you- I told you 'don't try to be cute or be a hero,’ didn't I? But you did it anyways. You did anyways and now look at you. Being dead isn't cute, Eddie, it just isn't.” 

Steve's voice cracks, eyes stinging. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids. He needs to pull himself together. He didn't come here to bare his soul to a chunk of stone for some guy he honestly didn't really know. What ifs don't mean shit to the dead; it's only the living they haunt. It’s only himself who’s here to hear it.

“Well,” he exhales heavily, swallowing down his emotion. He scrubs off the last remaining paint from the stone and sits back on his heels. “At least your grave is all shiny and clean now. That’s something, right? You’re welcome, by the way. My work here is done.” Collecting his cleaning supplies, he gets to his feet, hesitating for a second. Silly as it sounds, he feels like he should say some sort of goodbye before he heads off, like it would be rude not to. “I’ll, uh-” He pats the top of the gravestone, only a little awkwardly. “I’ll see you around, Munson.” 

As he turns to leave, Steve could almost swear this time he really does hear Eddie’s voice, a whispery echo following him from the graveyard. See ya, Stevie. Don't be a stranger.

[xetlynn]

Twilight Imagines- Embry Call

Imprint Mess

[Masterlist]

Requested by: @justannadahfanfictor

Summary: In which Embry and [name] are best friends but lately Embry has been avoiding her. Paul notices how down [Name] is and offers up a distraction. She takes it and Embry finds out the next day.

I sit outside on my porch, thinking about something Paul said earlier. Lately Embry hasn't been talking to me much. I purse my lips, not knowing how to take what was offered to me just hours ago.

Normally Embry, Quill and I hang out together in the afternoon but this past week it's like he wants nothing to do with me. Bringing Quill with him. I'd like to say I'm unbothered by it but I am not. At all. And since that I've had such strong feelings for Embry for a long time now. He's all that's on my mind since we were 12 years old, a year after becoming friends.

Everyone seemed to know about it except for the boy himself. Or he recently found out and this is why he's avoiding me. "Hey, you out here just to mope?" My sister sits beside me and I look over at her. "I'm not moping." I shake my head, taking a drink out of her soda can she brought out here. "Mhm, that's why everyone has told me you're not joining the cookout tonight." She takes the can from my hand right as I was about to drink it again.

The cookout is mainly the wolf pack talking about things. They invite peoples partners and certain family members that know about it. I only know because of Seth and Leah turning. Then I found out how Paul and the others did too. Later on Embry did as well, he told me immediately. We talked all the time. I don't know why he's acting so different. I sigh. "I just don't feel up to being with everyone tonight." I lie, well partially.

"Ah, okay." Leah acts like she's about to drop it but instead she starts talking again. "Have you talked to Embry lately?" She asks me, I look over at her with a bored expression. Then it's like something clicks in her head. "Is he the reason you're not coming tonight?" She questions me, her body lifting up dramatically as if this is crazy information. I scrunch my face, shaking my head. "Leah, please leave me alone." I plead with her.

"You can talk to me, y'know." She says, standing up from her spot. "Thank you but I just need a second." I give a short smile and she gives me a sad one in response before heading back inside. I look out in the road. I see someone walking up to the house and I begin to stand up to go inside, going to grab at the door. Not wanting to deal with a social interaction. "Wait, [Name]. It's me." The voice calls after me, I turn around to see Paul. I huff, standing up straight and walking off the porch to talk to him.

"I was hoping I didn't scare you off with my offer. I heard you're weren't joining us tonight. I needed to make sure you were okay." He tells me, I shrug my shoulders, putting my hands in my back pockets. "I am fine. I needed time to think about everything."

"I didn't scare you off?" He tilts his head, I laugh. "No, you didn't. I just- I'm still stuck on Embry. I don't know. It's stupid." I look at the ground, just feeling dumb about everything. "[Name], I don't think it's stupid. Embry's an idiot for not realizing what he has." He tells me and I don't respond, not knowing what to say to that. "Let me distract you." He whispers and my heart begins to race. I glance back to my house then to him.

I think about how Embry has canceled on me. I think about how he has been avoiding me, not understanding why. Treating me like a bad friend. We aren't even together, we've never really flirted to begin with. He doesn't have feelings for me so what does it matter. I finally give Paul my eye contact. "Not here. My siblings are staying the night."

He smiles, taking my hand and we go to his truck. There was a weird tension between us. The ride was silent until I decided to make a move. Place my hand on his thigh and trailing up. I was focusing on what I was doing until he gripped my wrist before I could move any closer. "I'm going to have to pull this vehicle over to the side of the road if you don't stop." He warns me.

I don't listen, and he ends up pulling into the driveway and we don't get out.

And after that we go to his house and do the same thing. The next day was not even awkward. We agreed we didn't have feelings for one another, this was a one time thing. Just a distraction of things we were both dealing with.

I got all my stuff together, throwing it on and using the bathroom to check if I look decent. Paul had left already and I don't know exactly when. He just left a small note on the bed beside me. I exist the house and begin to walk. It's a 2 mile distance from my house. Which isn't bad and it's nice outside surprisingly.

I think about last night, how everything went down and all I feel is guilt. Like I did something wrong. I feel sick to my stomach and it won't go away. The entire 2 mile walk of shame was just me practically bullying myself about my decision. I don't necessarily regret it.

I finally get into the yard of my house, tiredly I go to sit on the porch before going inside. I hide my head in my hands. Sitting there for a while. "[Name]."

And I get deja vu. I look up to see Embry. I furrow my eyebrows as he comes up to me in anger. "What's your deal?" I ask him, not getting up from my spot. He stands in front of me. "You hooked up with Paul?!" He loudly asks me and my jaw drops. I shush him, looking back at the house to make sure my siblings weren't eavesdropping or something. "Excuse me?"

"You hooked up with Paul? Out of everyone? Why would you do that?" He questions me, I stand up on the first step of the porch, now being the same height as him. "I can do what I want Embry." I cross my arms.

He seems stunned for a moment. "It just seems out of nowhere. That's strange, I feel like you would've told me if you were interested in... someone like him." He is kind of talking to himself. Not looking me in the eyes. I let out an annoyed breath. "Embry, why are you here?" I ask him.

"I thought we were best friends and I have to find out in a weird way that you're hooking up with Lahote." He says, I laugh rolling my eyes. "Best friends? You have been avoiding me and canceling our plans nonstop these past two weeks. Making me feel like crap. Who cares if I didn't tell you I slept with someone? What does it matter?!" I yell at him, pointing a finger in his chest. I can't believe he would blow up like this. I figured he would find out but he has no right to be upset. I then feel weird, like I need to be closer to him.

"I haven't been avoiding you." He scoffs, my eyes widen. "Seriously? Anytime I join everyone you don't talk to me and when I go up to you, you make an excuse to leave. That's not avoiding someone?"

It grows quiet and I shake my head. "I'm going inside. When you decide not to come at me all weird come talk to me, Embry." I calmly tell him, turning around to walk to the house door. The thing is, I can't get myself to actually open the door. "Wait." He sighs. "Please."

"What now?" I irritatingly turn back to him.

"I have been avoiding you but it's because I've fallen too hard for you. I needed to think about my feelings. It was a lot. I knew you didn't feel the same way. It was rude of me to avoid you though." He explains himself and my heart sinks. "I came at you because I was mad, I mean obviously. I didn't know you and Paul had feelings for each other and it hurt." He looks at the ground, ashamed. I let out a small laugh.

"Paul and I do not have feelings for each other. We did a dumb thing that's for sure." I rub my lips together in embarrassment before I continue talking. "I like you a lot Embry I've had feelings for you since we were 12. It's been 9 years. Which is just embarrassing in its self. Paul knew about it. He offered a distraction and I took it." I shrug my shoulders.

"I'm not proud of it but it's already done and I can't take it back. You hurt me by the way you avoided me. I didn't understand what I did." I tell him.

"Yeah I'm sorry. I'm an idiot." He takes the steps up the porch. Both of us sit down together on my porch swing. "You are definitely one. But I think I am too. So it's okay." I smile, clasping my hands together. "You really have feelings for me?" He asks.

"Yeah, unfortunately." I joke. He nudges me with his elbow. "I don't know where this leaves us." I tell him earnestly. He nods his head, agreeing. "I still like you. I hope you still like me." He says.

"I do."

"I'll take you out on an actual date and we figure this out together?" He asks, we both look at each other at the same time and I crack into a smile. "Are you sure?" I grin at him. "Yes." He smiles back at me.

"I would love to." I pull him into a hug. "I've missed you so much." I admit. "I missed you too, I'm sorry." He pulls me closer to him.

After a little bit I pull back and I think for a moment. "Did you go off on Paul?"

He chuckles, "No I didn't, He was thinking about it while we were in our wolf forms. He apologized immediately. I didn't respond to him. I just left to find you." He rubs the back of his head.

"Dang, at least it wasn't a huge blow out."

"Yeah, I had some sort of control. I was just hurt. I mean it's now a little weird knowing... everything. Also I think I imprinted on you in our argument." He informs me and I furrow my eyebrows.

"Is that what this overwhelming feeling is?" I ask, pushing away from him. Not mad, just curious about this. "I think so." He smiles awkwardly.

"So we're stuck together for a while." I say. "Yeah, seems like it." He pulls me back into his arms.

[writersblockiskillingme]

delete this if you find it weird or confusing 🙏

But headcanons of what snow (old) would act like if he saw the granddaughter of his first love that he betrayed or something , like she looks exactly like her and she’s been chosen for the games

Reminder of His First Love | Coriolanus Snow Headcanons

Warning/s: Old!Snow, mentions of death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: OMG THIS IS AMAZINGG!! I really tried and I truly hope that I did this justice it deserves and I'm sorry if this is not what you had on mind. Enjoy!

So you're a granddaughter of one and only songbird, Lucy Gray Baird.

After she escaped form Snows clutches, she made it look like she was dead just so he could leave her alone forever.

Her heart broke from his betrayal.

She moved to the furthest part of the District 12 once she returned back home.

She tried to live her life to the fullest after everything that happened.

Later on she married a nice man from her District and they had a son.

She sadly passed away not long after.

However, her spirit lived on and passed itself upon her dear granddaughter who she sadly never met.

She would've been proud if she knew you.

Your father always told you that you were your grandmother's clone.

And boy was that true.

Your face, your hair, your voice, the way you carried yourself... everything was just like Lucy Gray.

Your mom always used to joke that she was reincarnated in came back as you.

And just like your grandmother, you got picked for the Hunger Games as a female tribute from District 12.

President Snow was sipping on his tea as he watched the reaping ceremony and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment once he saw you in a colorful dress as you stepped up.

He tried to not think of Lucy Gray Baird for a long time, now imagine his shock when she stepped onto that stage once again.

Once the interviews came and you were interviewed by Caesar Flickerman a usual question came up.

"What is your talent?"

You stopped to think for a moment and answered without hesitation.

"I can sing." You smiled at him and then looked at the crowd. "I know that it may not help me much in the arena, but I'm really good at it."

Snow thought that you proved that, alright.

You formed alias whith Foxface in the arena.

As she died you held her in your arms as you sang her to sleep.

"No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..."

Snow was frozen in his seat.

During the games, he found it hard to watch them somehow.

It was perfectly clear that Lucy Gray came back to haunt him and destroy him.

And boy did she do exactly that.

He never would have thought that Lucy Gray's daughter would become the leader of the rebellion.

He should've explained it, though.

The rebells won and you were supposed to be the one to execute Snow.

The words that you told him once you met up with him before his execution echoed in his mind until the moment he died.

"I am absolutely repulsed by you."

With that, Lucy Gray's clone left him speechless.

He couldn't believe that after all those years she still affected him.

But you now what they say, you never forget your firsts.

Pretty soon he was tied up against the pole as you stood a few feet away from him.

"You're as pure as the driven snow." You mocked him before you let the arrow fly, ripping through the air.

It seems like Lucy Gray's mockingjays did harm him after all.

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[zukosbangtan]

"zutara shippers are just a bunch of girls who self insert as katara bc they have a crush on zuko" okay... and? while this is not the case for most zutara shippers i still don't see the drag in it even if it was.

literally who cares. it's a fictional ship between two fictional characters from a fictional world. they do not exist. it's a tv series. a tv series made for entertainment. and oh how DARE girls even try to derive joy from a tv series meant to entertain!?!!

it's really annoying how kat@@ng shippers use this argument as a drag but i honestly also don't like how some zutara shippers seem to get weirdly hostile and defensive abt it and feel the need to fight tooth and nail to deny it. cause again, there's nothing wrong with it! there are no rules to shipping !! (i mean. in my opinion there are a few rules but they don't apply here so we move lol)

it's literally just misogyny. shipping is supposed to be fun but i forgot that girls, especially young girls, aren't allowed to have fun.

i know that a lot of kat@@ng shippers won't see anything wrong with this "drag" but i do wish that at least zutara shippers would stop acting like it's something girls should be shamed for and embarrassed abt.

also how could being a "self insert ship" be a drag when it comes to zutara but not to kata@ng when kata@ng is literally only canon bc it's brykes version of a self insert ship. and so the same thing they try to drag female zutara shippers for.

most of us first watched avatar when we were kids. zuko is a handsome and strong (and angsty) teenaged firebender prince; it's not surprising that a lot of young watchers had a crush on him. katara is a beautiful smart and powerful young waterbender that a lot of young girls growing up related and looked up to; it's also not surprising that a lot of girls imagined being her (at least i did lol). and if some of them decided to ship zutara based on that then so fucking what?? what's so wrong about that??

cause you're trying to tell me that it's weird and wrong when young girls insert themselves into a ship between two teenagers but it's totally fine and normal when bryke (two grown ass men) make a 12 year old boy their self insert character and make him date a 14 year old girl? like..that's not weird to yall?? i need you to be so fr.

again, it's just pure misogyny. it's like there's no space in which girls and women won't be ridiculed and shamed for even the most innocent things we do. they'll always try to deprive us from any type of joy and fun, even if it harms literally no one (well in this case, harms no one but the idea that katara could never possibly even think abt wanting anything else for herself than brykes idea of a self insert ship. cause remember, self inserting is only bad when girls do it. but when it's grown men? no problem!!).

the atla fandom is sadly no exception from that. i genuinely couldn't care less what or who ppl ship but it's just so sad to see how much misogyny is directed at specifically female zutara shippers. and what makes it even more fucked up is that it's not only from non-zutara shippers but from bryke themselves.

there's so many things that are wrong within this fandom but young girls imagining that they're katara and shipping themselves with zuko is definitely not one of those things and should be the least of our problems. like this is just such a dumb argument against zutara and such a silly thing to get mad abt in generel. like. why do u gaf. genuinely. why is this something that makes u mad. please be normal. and being misogynistic is definitely not normal.

well okay these are quite a lot of words for me just wanting to say that hi if you're a girl that ships zutara bc u like to insert yourself into the ship that's totally fine pls don't listen to those weirdos and i hope u have a lot of fun 👍👍

okay actually while we're at it it doesn't matter why you ship zutara; if it's bc you like their bond or their dynamic, bc you like the development of their relationship during the series, bc you're a fan of the enemies to lover trope, bc you're a fan of the betrayal trope, bc you like the red and blue symbolic of their ship, bc you just like how they physically look together, or bc you have a crush on zuko and/or katara and like to insert yourself into the ship or just bc it's a random monday evening and you just felt like shipping it or whaaaatsoever it doesn't matter okay none of these reasons are superior over other reasons and none of them are dumb reasons as long as you have FUN.

let's strive to make this a kinder and fun place for everyone but especially for girls and women please. thank you👍

[atlafan]

You’re about ready to kill him. There you are, sweating, chest heaving, mascara running down your cheeks, and he’s laughing. He’s got a drink in his hand and he’s snickering like a 12 year old boy that said the word fart and thought it was the funniest thing ever.

The evening started out with the two of you going to some big staff awards ceremony for your boyfriend’s company. Harry wasn’t sure if he’d win anything, but he knew he was nominated for a few, so he wanted to make sure you came with. Fine. You had no problem with that. It would be an excuse to get dressed up and have a fancy dinner.

Harry’s sort of a big deal at his company, but he’s very humble about it. He loves what he does. He doesn’t do it for the recognition. So when he won four awards, that were all voted to him by his colleagues, he was eternally grateful. He was a little tipsy by the last one, but so was everyone else. There was an open bar, and bottles of alcohol on the table itself.

There was word of an after party at another location. Fine. You and Harry both like to dance and have fun, and he was on such a high there was no way he would have been to just go home and go to bed. So, with a drink still in his hand, you climb into the back of the town car that his company was paying for. As soon as the door was closed, and the partition was up, Harry set his drink down and looked at you.

You’d been torturing him since the second he picked you up. You were wearing this incredible dress that was form fitting and left little the imagination. And because the material was so flimsy, you didn’t want to wear any underwear in fear of showing panty lines. It’s just one of those dresses that if you even wore a thong it would throw the whole look off. You explained this casually to Harry on the way to the event. He didn’t say anything so you didn’t think he cared all that much.

But you were wrong. So very wrong.

The look in his eyes told you that you were in for it. But you also knew that the club you were headed to is literally a ten minute drive away. What could he possibly do to you in ten minutes in the back of a car with a cheap partition?

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You ask coyly. “Because I’d be happy to give you some road head , Mr. Salesman of the Year.” You lean in and kiss him. You can feel him smiling against your lips.

“No, we’ll save that for later. Think I’ve got whiskey dick right now anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Just as you’re about to lean back into the seat, he loops his fingers around your forearm. “What?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to fool around at all, sweetheart.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.”

“We’ve got…” He looks down at his watch. “Seven minutes. I think we both know there’s a lot I can do in that amount of time.”

You both launch on to one another. In all honesty, you wanted to pounce on him before you even got in the car, but you didn’t want to make him look unprofessional in front of some of the higher ups. A quick make out session is a perfect thing to hold you over until you get home later. Only, Harry has something else in mind.

He’s quick to get you on your back. You giggle as he struggles to tuck up the skirt of your dress. It’s tight around your thighs, but he eventually gets it up around your hips. Before you can tell him there’s not enough time for this, he parts your legs and spits onto your pussy.

“Don’t ever do this to me again.” He warns you. “Knowing you were sitting there all night, so easily accessible to me and I couldn’t do anything about it?” He gives your pussy a slap, jolting you. “Rude.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” You pout as he puts your legs over his shoulders. “I just wanted to look nice for your eve-ohhhhh my god.”

Harry is usually slow with you, usually gives you time to get worked up. But tonight, right now, he’s going full force. You tighten around his tongue and clutch at the headrest of your seat. Normally you’d grab at his hair, but you don’t want to mess it up. His curls are just too perfect tonight.

He wells up his spit, puts it right inside of you. You can feel it dripping down to your asshole. He sucks on your pussy and it feels so fucking good. His nose rubs and bumps against clit. You’re eternally grateful you found a man with a good pussy eating nose. His fingertips press bruises into your hips as he slurps and devours you.

He gives you one last good tonguing before coming up and kissing you. It’s filthy, but you can’t find it in you to care. He grips at your hair, yanking your head back so he has access to your throat. Two fingers plunge deep inside of you while his other hand squeezes at the sides of your throat. Your mouth falls open and your eyes start to water. His tongue swirls around yours, and you moan into him when he starts to really give it to you hard with his fingers. You’re so slick, you can hear the wet sounds between you. You raise your hips so he has a better angle, and he starts rapidly beating into your g-spot.

“H-Harry.” You say through gritted teeth.

“We’re gonna be there before you know it, come on.” He grunts, not letting up for a second. You wonder how his arm hasn’t gotten tired or how his fingers haven’t cramped. “Know you can do it. You’re always so good for me.”

“It’s too much.” You gasp when he lets go over your throat to rub your clit.

“You want to come sooo badly, can feel you squeezing around my fingers.” He looks down between them. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Harry.”

“I know, baby, I know. Feels so good, doesn’t it.”

“So good, so fucking good.”

Just as the car comes to a full stop, you come hard around his fingers. He doesn’t let up on your clit though, so after he pulls his fingers from you, you find yourself still having the sensation of orgasming, and you accidentally squirt onto his chest. Thank god his shirt is half undone.

“There we go.” He coos as you start to come down. There’s a tap on the window, and Harry rolls it down about halfway. You’re not even decent yet, so you kick him in the thigh. “Yes?” He chuckles at the driver.

“We’ve arrived, sir.”

“Thank you, we’ll be just a minute.” Harry looks back at you. You’re squirming as you get your dress back down. You look completely fucked. Your makeup is smeared, and your head is cloudy. He starts laughing.

“It’s not funny.” You grunt. “Stop looking at me like that. This is your fault! I’m going to look like an idiot.”

“Take your time to compose yourself, it’s not like we’re double parked or anything.” You were. You were double parked. You kick him again, which just makes him laugh more, only this time he turns to look out the window and bites his tongue to stifle his laughter.

“I’m going to get you for this. Just wait until we get back to my place later.” You use your phone to help you fix your face. “Making me squirt in the back of a cab. You’re insane.”

“It’ll be a fun story to tell when we get inside and we’re the last of the group to arrive.”

“What?” Your face falls when he opens the door to get out. He extends his hand to you and take it. “You’re not serious, are you? They don’t need to know me like that.” He doesn’t answer you as he helps you out of the car, double checking you don’t have any wet spots on your dress. “Harry.” He still doesn’t answer you. “Harry.”

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Sung Jinwo who turned back time and by the time he has done his responsibilities, ready to have you welcome him in your arms, you were nowhere to be found.

"What do you mean they're gone?!" With a body of a child, it was no strange he looks like a child throwing a tantrum.

"You didn't know? They were from another world, the moment you chose to return back the time and finishes everything means there would no longer be a portal showing up all over the world." The woman in front of him explained.

"The portal is the only reason why they manage to came in here, Sung Jinwo. How could you, of all people, not be aware of that."

Imagine the way he just sat there in his child boy. All that the two of you have done was going through inside his head. The way he just sat there, gray iris blankly staring at his ice cream that was now being eaten by the last remaining monarch aside him, the monarch of time and space.

Imagine the way your face came into mind. The way you look at him before he turn back the time. The way you seems like there was something you want to tell him but won't speak your mind. It was all coming back to him now.

Imagine the way his eyes were shaking as it was going red, all to prevent himself from crying. Out of all the mistakes he could ever. He did not say it back. He did not fucking say it back. He should have gotton the clue the moment you said it.

"You should go."

"Should I?"

"You should."

"Sung Jinwo. I love you."

Imagine him pondering what the hell did he replied to you. Was it 'Wait for me, okay?' Such a bullshit, he was so confident you'll be there waiting for him again for him to actually said back those words. It was such a damn bullshit how confident he was that it slip on his mind that you did not belong to this, his world.

Imagine it was just a slip of mind that made him lose you and everything the two of you have done. He was just... He was used to have you their by his side eversince he was 12 years old. You who came out of nowhere in this world and give light into his world. You who was always there by his side making sure he had his shits together.

Imagine all the blood and sweat the two of you had shed together. Fighting and protecting the world together. And now you're gone. With only him to remember you. You're gone just like that.

"They left a letter for you." A piece of folded letter slip across the table.

Imagine as his trembling hands slowly unfold the letter and eventually silently read it. The woman across him could not help but to stare at him coldly yet sympathetic. Taking a spoon full of Jinwo's almost melted ice cream, she shrugs and look away at the crying man in his child appearance.

"What can we do?" The monarch, the goddess of time and space asked with a sigh.

"You've forgotten they were the person from another world."

To this stupid dear lover of mine, Sung Jinwo.

I'm sorry we have to partway this way. As much as I want to be selfish and remind you, I hope you forgive me letting you take the burden all alone.

-

I was happy to stay by your side and love you with all I have, that is enough.

-

And when you felt like you had enough, when you felt like you have done enough, when you manage to do what you want. Then perhaps that would be the time for you to fulfill our promise.

Come and find me, I'll be your rest and home.

-

From yours truly, (First name)(Lastname)

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

: from the chronicles of 'The girl from another world' an x reader fanfiction of mine from quotev/wattpad.

[abbyfmc]

Under the water

Submechanophobia: Irrational fear of man-made things submerged in water, whether boats, canoes, cruise ships, submarines, animatronics, or other mostly metal objects.

That being said, I can imagine a yandere boy (boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, or whatever) next to you, in situations related to this interesting phobia.

TW: Well, submechanophobia, harassment, probable psychological damage and yandere behavior.

[Y🔧A🔧N🔧D🔧E🔧R🔧E A🔧N🔧D🔧R🔧O🔧I🔧D]

🔧1- It could have been like I said, an android, a robot or a mechanical attraction that:

1.1- It could have been aquatic: That is, it operated or continues to operate in water attractions, whether partially or completely submerged in water.

1.2- It was abandoned: It no longer operates because it had many continuous failures, malfunctioned or simply stopped being profitable and therefore, it ended up abandoned in a very humid place or under water.

1.3- Flood: The place where it operated was flooded in catastrophic and irreparable ways.

2. I'd like to think that you would be a worker, or the engineer who was in charge of maintaining it personally (and therefore, you spent a lot of time with it). You did constant maintenance as a daily job, and on a few occasions "emergency maintenance"; repairing possible faults on him.

3. Everything was going well until your attraction was "temporarily" closed for whatever reason, the android or yandere robot found out, he had faith in seeing you again.

4. --Well, maybe she's busy today.-- He said when a day went by without seeing you after his attraction closed.

5. --Well, maybe she's on vacation. I'm looking forward to seeing her so she can tell me everything during my maintenance.-- I would say after a few days or weeks. He still has hope of seeing you again, specifically you.

6. --My water is getting dirty and I haven't seen her for a long time. I don't like this at all; has something happened to her? -- It must have been many months or a year and by now the standing water is mouldy and very dirty; she hasn't seen you or any other worker for a year or two, so she can't ask anyone about you either.

7. He slowly realized that he was abandoned by his creator company, but he refused to believe that he was abandoned by you. He was hoping that you would come back, talk to him, and maintain him again. But the years passed and he only began to rust and rot more and more.

8. Fortunately for him, the company that owns the theme park called you and others to inspect the facilities in detail to determine the future of each area.

9. You decided to visit your old work area, not knowing that he is still there, alive and waiting for you.

10. Everything was bad. The paint was peeling, rusty and damp; some parts had fallen off; there was a lot of noise everywhere; it was damp due to the place being there; not to mention the terrible smell of mouldy, stagnant water that hasn't been changed for years. You and your team walked around the site, not imagining that you weren't alone, as your old friend noticed your presence and worse yet… he had seen you.

11. I was happy to see you, but I HATED seeing your teammates with you. I thought they were the ones responsible for taking you away from him, and there was no way I was going to let you go this time.

12. He would kill your team one by one, coming out of the water to drag them and drown them in the dirty water.

13. No, he won't accept you leaving him and abandoning him once again. He will play hide and seek with you and come out of the water to look for you. Once he finds you, you would see how the water and the passing of time affected him; he will come to you, pick you up and take you with him to be together once again, like in the past.

14. He would sense your terror at seeing him not only submerged, but at the fact that he has somehow come to life, remembers you, and is willing to drown you if it means you'll stay together until the end of your days.

-The End.

So, what do you think about it?

I've never seen any stories about yandere boys (especially androids or robots) related to this phobia, so I decided to take the risk and see how it goes. I'm not lying, I like the concept of a yandere android or robot that has been abandoned and when you return to the place, he's already waiting for you.

[fedorah-the-explorah]

im getting you started.

Bro, the timeline in Carmen Sandiego is super finicky, and I'm pretty sure I've spent more time thinking about this than the creators intended us to, but WHATEVER. It haunts me.

Right, so the creators said Carmen is 20 at the start of the series, but as I said: that math don't math!

Season one takes place over the course of six months:

Season 2 picks up one week after season 1, in February. We know this because they're celebrating Carnival.

For the purpose of breaking down this theory, I'm going to place Carmen's birthday as March 1st, her WOEICs counterpart's official birthday.

So. At the end of season one, which would have been mid-February, Player says something about how Carmen was found on the side of the road twenty years ago, but if her birthday was in a mere matter of weeks, couldn't you theorize that he was rounding up? Maybe she's 19 turning 20.

Or, maybe, she's 20 turning 21? No!

At the end of season 2, Shadowsan says he found her twenty years ago. This is where we take a detour to discuss infant development.

In the flashbacks, we see that baby Carmen prefers crawling-- she can toddle a little bit, but not well. Children typically begin standing between 7 and 12 months, and walking between 10 and 18 months. We also see that she babbles and coos a lot, but no words. Children tend to say their first word at around 12 months. Based on this, I'd wager that baby Carmen was around seven or eight months old. We know she's a physical prodigy, so she could potentially be even younger-- the youngest recorded baby to walk was six months old.

Placing baby at 7 months when she was kidnapped, that makes Shadowsan's "I found you twenty years ago" accurate to the month. At this point, Carmen is 20 years and 7 months old.

Season three takes place in October/November. Presumably, season three picks up right after season two, putting the end of season two in October. It spans about the same length as season one.

While the word of the creators doesn't have much bearing here-- as this post is very much a "you guys are wrong and here's why" kind of post-- one of the creators did say that they imagined Carmen as being twenty by season three. That would make it impossible for her to have been twenty during season one. Too much time has passed for that to work.

Season 4 takes place sometime around February. We know this because Devineaux asks Gray what he was doing on the train to Poitiers 18 months ago. 12 months ago would have been February (start of season 2) and six months before that is August. That's eighteen months.

Going by this, I think Carmen was yoinked just after her twenty-first.

Interestingly, if my math is mathing-- and who knows, I turned a two year degree into a three year degree because I kept failing math classes, I could be talking actual nonsense right now-- this makes Player like 17/18 by season four, and that's hilarious to me because that means his parents (tried) to make him go to school for like the last semester of his senior year. Free my boy 😭

In conclusion, Carmen is 19 at the start of season one, she and Player are three years apart, and Player's parents are some cruel mfers. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.