#the change in him from the old guard to an entirely different person always felt so significant to me

[grapejuicegay]

Sometimes I just start thinking about this moment - paired with Maddie's "I just think that maybe you're not sure of your own feelings yet. And if there's something that you need to tell Eddie, you will. Just, in your own time" - and then don't stop thinking about it.

Maybe I'm just reading into it but the way this moment moves. Eddie steps forward, Tommy steps up to exactly where Eddie was, Buck turns to look where Eddie was, doesn't find what he was looking for but still finds something good. It's not just ep 4 and 5 where the focus on Eddie blows me away, it's also this.

[myladysapphire]

His Sapphire Princess (IX)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 2,455

CW: angst? some fluff (like they reunite and don't hate each other and decide to start over), tensions, refrences of past SA, not proofread!

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclaimer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

a/n i hate this, but it's kind of a filler chapter anyway

Aemond

Aemond had been both eager and nervous for her return.

Though counting down the days, planning on how he would greet you, he also was scared.

He know she felt ignored by him, betrayed by how he had just stopped replying to her letters. Ignored her name days, ignored her completely.

But that was not entirely true.  He had wanted so badly to reply, writing letter upon letter, though some were just mindless scribbles. But not once did he find he wrote a letter worthy of her, worthy of the emotions he felt. He needed space and he had shown he needed it in the worse possible way.

He had hated how he knew some version of her, a guarded version. Her letters expressing less and less, over time just mere updates of her life before stopping altogether. And he hated that the version she knew of him was the scared little boy he had tried so hard to get ride of.

The version of Aemond he had gotten ride of, in all ways but with her. He wanted to be the old Aemond with her, but hated that he did. It was why he needed the space, the time to heal, the time to become the man he is today.

But as he stood in the training yard, staring at her as she talked to him, so ddiffernt, so cold.

He knew he made a mistake.

She was so different, she had changed, and not just her personality.

But her looks also. Gods she was the most stunning and beautiful woman he had ever seen, he had always thought it impossible for her to become more beautiful.

But her beauty was clouded by the look in her eyes, the anger, the hurt and the loneliness.

She looked so alone, even as she walked out the courtyard with her brothers, laughing. She same old melodic laugh that could capture a room. The loneliness ceased slightly when he looked into them, as if she was finally being seen.

He understood. There eyes always talked to each other, expressing their true emotions, it why he knew his eyes mirrored hers, but they also showed another emotion, regret.

Regret for reading your letters time and time again, annotating them as if they were quotes from his favourite novel. Regret from the stack of unsent letters he kept in his bedside draw.

Each filled with his thoughts. Most mindless scribbles, unfished letters ending with angry scribbled out words as words escaped him, as  fear filled him.

He had tried to write of the events in his life even detailing his fights with Ser Criston, his rides with Vaghar, the books he read. And yet he could never send them, fear of her seeing his liefe and not understanding why he needed the space, or fear that he would see the darkest parts of his mind grew as the years went on. The sweet kind boy she had once new fading, and a cruel, vengeful man taking his place.  

He had once longed to be a protector, her sworn sword, doing good in her name. now…now he revelled in fear. He loved how the woman would run at the sight of his sapphire eye, a sight he knew deep down she never would. He revelled in revenge, revenge by going to the brothel, the place of his hurt, and burning it.

It was ruthless, but the second he had done it, he felt free, healed.

And yet fear still gripped at him, fear of wheat you know thought of him.

Fear that she would not accept the new him, but as he had started at you he felt like the old sweet Aemond was still in there somewhere, but only for her, his Sapphire.

Watching her sway away he knew he had limited time, this week was the first week of their official courtship, but the week after they would begin the moon long celebrations for their wedding.

Celebrations were they would spend day after day, hour after hour together being the perfect couple.

And he didn’t want it to be an act.

He had returned to his rooms, opening his bedside draw, but instead of reaching for her letter he reached for his own, and realised what he wanted to do.

He waited, two days. Two days of agony.

He had somehow hoped those two days he would be able to approach her, talk to her. But now, all he could was watch her. Watch her spend day after day in someone else’s company

Whether it was one of the tens of ladies begging for her favour and chance at becoming her lady, or her brother Jace, or even Aegon.

Gods he had forgotten about Aegon’s obsession with her. He knew they wrote, Aegon often bragging about it. With Aegon telling him about her, their little jokes, their shared secrets.

Not that he was jealous, no. He was not jealous of how Aegon seemed to act as if they were betrothed to each other. For two days they seemed to walk everywhere together, sit with each other at dinners. Though her eyes were often searching for Aemond’s, Aegon’s eyes were always firmly planted on her. And whenever she wasn’t with him, he was like a lost pup, waiting for her to appear.

Those two days, though never alone they often found the other staring, their mouths would being to form words that they were never able to form. And so he finally built up the courage and sent her his letters.

Visenya

When she had received Aemond’s letters she did not know what to expect.

They had appeared on her dresser, all 112 of them. Though some were scrapes of paper with random thoughts scribbled across them. One just one word repeated, 110 times.

Her name written, again and again, in the same neat, perfect handwriting Aemond had always had.

She then realised what this was, an apology.

She found the first letter he wrote that was left unsent, and she felt her heart break.

Dearest Visenya,

I am so sorry, I can not say why it has taken so long for me to only now reply.

Prepahs it was the guilt.

I never should of come to Winterfell, You had been kind and sweet, but I fear your kindness is unwarranted. I do not desire pity, I regret coming that night, I regret allowing you to see me so weak and scared. My whole life I have sworn to be your protector, your sword. And that night as I cried in your arms I felt like a small child, I felt smaller than when I did when Lucerys tore out my eye. And I hated it.

I have tried to look past it, look at it in away where I do not come across a whiny little boy and I am nothing but ashamed.

I had hoped to write you, bragging of my successes and yet all I can do I wallow In self pity at how I acted that night.

It matters not that I bested ser Criston for the first time, or how often I ride Vaghar.

For all I can think about it the look of pity you gave me.I do not need nor want your pity, my sapphire.

You gave me a place to stay and a place to cry, but I shall make it clear to you that the Aemond you saw that night is long gone. And shall never return. He can never return, not for you not for anyone.

So sweet, I shall not answer your request to come to Winterfell, I need the space, the time and so do you.

I fear distance is what we need, though we may hate it, I need to become Prince Aemond, and not just scared little Aemond, the boy who lost is eye, the boy who cried in your arms.

Yours, whether I say it or not,

Aemond

Dearest Visneya,

It has been near six moons since I last wrote you, and you are writing less and less.

I have been cruel, I know. I have ignored you in the favour of bettering myself.

I do not deserve you, or your kindness even still.            

You seem to be doing well, a fact I envy not too see. But I myself am not.

I miss you more and more each day, I find myself looking for you ate very turn. And yet it has been over a year since you were at the red keep.

So much has changed, Aegon and Heleana are to wed soon, I have started training with a real sword.

I no longer wake in sweats from that night.

So much has changed and yet I have so little words to say, I hate it!

I used to have all the words in the world for you, never once fearing how you viewed me. For I knew how you viewed me then.

And now I fear you will judge me.

Hate me.

Resent me.

I fear I have become a stranger, and yet I have a dozen unsent letters all addressed to you, read and read time and time again your own.

I know you, and I fear you.

Fear your opinion of me, how you view me.

I fear-      

Most of his letters just ended, frustration finding him far to quickly, some were just mindless words and phrases.

Visenya,

I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you  I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you .

Some were hateful, words said in anger, at how she still cared.

Dear Visenya,

Stop writing me.

How long must I ignore you to realise I want not to know you as we once did.

How am I to become the man you desire we spend all our time writing each other, stuck in our silly little heads!

Then gossip filled the red keep, gossip that Cregan had asked for your hand.

Visneya,

please, my sapphire, I beg of you do not marry him!

Your mother bids it but I do not!

Please.

And then her letters had stopped and he left once last letter to her.

Visneya,

Please, don’t stop writing me!

I know I have not been a friend to you but a stranger but without your letters the world has stopped.

I now I am a hypocrite, a hypocrite who cannot find the words. Who never has been able to speak his feelings, but show them.

I know not of a gesture to prove I want you till, I crave you and I need you.

but please, I cannot live without you, knowing you, please.

Please!

forever your Aemond.

Gods, she thought, he had to been hurt. Though not by her, and she had resented him for it. Resented how he had opened up to her, and then abandoned her ignored her for so long.

She knew it was hard for, he was never one for words. Gestures yes, but words? They always frustrated him, he could never formulate his feelings and yet this, the scribbled erratic thoughts and letters, unedited and rushed. They showed so much but also so little.

She has spent the whole day reading those letters, seeing no one bar her maid delivering her meals. And had it not been for her mother coming to grab her for dinner, demanding her presence, she would have sat on her thoughts all day and night.

But as she was sat next to Aemond she realised she would have less time to think on what Aemond’s gesture meant and what it meant for them.

“Aemond” she greeted, flipping her hair to the side as she sat.

“Senya” he greeted in response, eyes firmly on her.

 She squirmed in her seat, unsure on where to start. “Senya” he said again, capturing her attention, as they made eye contact some tension left her body.

“why?” she asked, its all she could think of, why?

He coughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting this conversation now, “I was never one for words, Visneya. But gestures, have always been something I excel at.” He moved his head closer to her, their conversation too private for prying eyes. “ I never should have ignored you, I know realise, it hurt us both, more than I ever thought” he shifted in his seat “seeing the look in your eyes when you arrived and realising I had made a mistake”

She nodded, urging him on, as she began to plate up her food.

“I focused solely on myself, I was selfish, but I won’t lie to you, my sapphire”

My sapphire, she liked that.

“I have become selfish and cruel, I have become a man who craves fear, but not from you, never from you”

“then what do you want from me?” she asked softly, before nervously looking to make sure no one else was listening to their conversation. “you did not want companionship from me, you ignored me for years on end, and yet by the end of the moon we will be wed!” she took a breath “if you have truly become selfish, and cruel, how do I know that it is for your betterment? And how will I know that you wont ever make me fear you?”

“because I became that person, so that I never have to feel fear again, feel the fear I felt at Driftmark, at that… at that brothel” she sighed, taking her hand in his “ I want to be your protector, it is all I have ever wanted, and how could I become that if I remained that scared, naïve little boy?”

Everything he was saying was true, but it also made her realize she did not know him anymore.

She breathed in “perhaps we should start over? Get to know one another again?”

He nodded, “I would like that”

next part

Taglist

@cathy1514@iiamthehybrid@melllinaa@aleemendoza2425-blog@cassandra1995-blog1@deltamoon666@aelora-a@ryiana@isa-beenme@unique7676@adriennepoison@idontknow12346hello@taragryenmoony@blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @zillahvathek @dark-night-sky-99 @apollonshootafar @leavesmealobe @deeeeexx @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunblogsblog

to be added to Taglist

[reiding-writing]

Hi 🤠 can I please get a two-for-one deal with your fic Change? Thank you!

ENOUGH — SPENCER REID!

you never swayed on your promise, and six months later you’re still right by his side, for both the good and the bad days.

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.0k | fluff | 2k book fayre !!

part one.

main masterlist. | event masterlist.

Time has a way of dulling the sharpest edges of pain, and in the six months since that night, Spencer had made strides in his healing.

He was attending therapy regularly, and though he wasn’t anywhere near “fixed,” as he would often put it, he was on the road to becoming someone stronger, someone new.

The jagged pieces of him were slowly smoothing out, but he was still a work in progress—no longer the shattered shell of himself, yet not the Spencer you once knew. He was someone in between, and you’d made peace with that.

It wasn’t easy, though.

The two of you had fallen into a routine, but the tension of that night still lingered in the quiet moments. His outburst, his desperation, the weight of those emotions hadn’t vanished entirely.

Some nights, when you were both curled up on the couch, the silence between you felt too thick, too full of unspoken fears and unresolved feelings.

You’d feel his gaze on you, like he was silently asking for reassurance that you weren’t going to leave—that you were still here, despite everything.

But things were different now.

Spencer didn’t flinch anymore when you reached out to touch him. He didn’t withdraw into himself like he used to, and though the walls he had built were still there, they were weaker, more permeable.

He wasn’t hiding behind them as much anymore, and sometimes, in the right light, you could see the Spencer you first fell in love with peek through—the one who used to get flustered over small things, who wore his heart on his sleeve.

But now, he was sitting across from you, leaning over the chessboard in the middle of your living room, brow furrowed in concentration. It was a Saturday night, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of calm in his presence.

“I think you’re losing your touch, Spence,” you teased, watching as he stared at the board, trying to figure out how to get out of the corner you’d trapped him in.

He smiled, and for a moment, it felt like old times. “I’m just letting you think that. I’ve got a plan.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back in your chair. “Uh-huh. Sure you do.”

Spencer moved his knight, and you could see that glint in his eyes—the one that always appeared when he knew he had the upper hand. “Check.”

“Dammit,” you muttered, scanning the board for a way out. But in reality, you were more focused on Spencer. On the way he looked at the pieces, how his mind worked. How different he seemed now, yet how much he was still trying to be the person you needed him to be.

The game ended soon after, with Spencer winning like always. As he leaned back with a satisfied smile, you couldn’t help but notice how at ease he seemed—his shoulders were no longer hunched, and his posture, while still guarded, was more relaxed. It was progress. Slow, but steady.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Spencer said, pulling you from your thoughts. He was watching you intently, the familiar worry creeping back into his expression.

“Just thinking,” you said with a soft smile. You reached across the table, your fingers brushing against his.

It was something you hadn’t done in months—initiate physical contact without hesitation. Spencer noticed it too, the subtle shift in your dynamic, and his eyes softened at the touch.

“About what?” he asked quietly.

“Just about us,” you replied with a soft sigh. “This is nice,”

Spencer’s gaze dropped to the chessboard for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of one of the pieces absently. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. “And I see it. Every day, I see it.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, you thought he might retreat into himself again, but instead, he met your gaze, his eyes searching yours for something—maybe reassurance, maybe acceptance.

You weren’t sure. But whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because he didn’t look away.

“I still have bad days,” Spencer admitted quietly. “Days where I feel like I’m back in that place. Where I feel… broken.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “I know. And I’ll be here, for every one of them. Just like I am on the good days.”

Spencer looked down at your intertwined hands, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, but instead, he tightened his grip. “I don’t want you to have to carry that burden,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m not carrying it alone,” you replied softly. “We’re carrying it together.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the walls between you crumble just a little bit more.

There was still so much left unsaid, so much healing left to do, but in that moment, with his hand in yours, you felt hope. Hope that one day, the weight of everything wouldn’t feel so heavy. Hope that Spencer could find peace within himself again.

And as you sat there, in the quiet of your living room, with the remnants of your chess game between you, you knew that no matter what the future held, you weren’t going anywhere.

Because you loved him—every broken, beautiful piece of him.

And that was enough.

[lina-lovebug]

I Will Protect You

Adam Warlock x fem! Reader

Reader is Gamora and Nebula younger sister. Seems to be a trend with Thanos' daughters to fall for goofy men.

Warnings: ptsd, torture, cursing

Adam did not know love.

He knows his mother loved him. That even though his sole purpose was to kill and work for the Sovereign, he could feel his mother's love for him.

But being in love?

He never thought about it. It was never a priority, especially as a killer who would have no business being intrigued by anything else other than what he was ordered.

"You are an idiot."

"What?"

"But I must say I admire your technique. Staring is also how I got my wife to notice me. Although I did it for hours on end until she noticed."

Drax told Adam, who was staring longingly at (Y/N), the sister to Gamora and Nebula and their resident healer. Adam watched as a pink light emitted from her palms, healing a small injury on one of the children's knees.

"She's very pretty," Adam breathed out. Yes, he had seen specimens that were 'perfect', but you were something entirely different. Your laughter was genuine and kind, and your smile held no ill intentions behind it.

"Drax, I feel sick when I am around her. Like my stomach gets all fuzzy and weird, and-and I can't think straight. Did she poison me?" Adam asked, wondering truly if you despised him secretly.

After all, your first encounter was not a good one.

Adam recalled being beneath you as you held a blade to his throat, pressing it hard enough to draw blood and the rage in your eyes was something to remember.

He now held a small scar on his neck.

"Silly golden man," Drax patted his shoulder, "you love her."

"Love? Are you sure?" He glanced back to where you were but you disappeared.

"What should I do?"

Oh if only he should have known that Drax was the worst person to ask for advice.

_

"I'm sorry."

I turned around to see Gamora. Her arms were crossed, she was guarding herself, as she looked at me with sad eyes.

"You have nothing to-"

"You had someone who was openly loving and caring, and that's not me," I swallowed a lump in my throat. Gamora changed once she realized that Nebula and I just needed a sister, not a combat partner. I saw her make that effort, and she learned my love languages and learned who I was as a person.

When she died, I felt a part of myself die with her.

And when this new Gamora, or old Gamora, had shown up, I wanted that back. But she was just as cruel and as mean as when we first fought and she beat me.

"Wow, you don't think I know that?" I retorted, avoiding eye contact as I continued to polish my knives.

"From our first fight when Thanos pit us against each other, I knew you were only looking out for the best. That you needed to be the golden girl in order to survive, but did you know what he did?" I asked, finally looking at her.

"Yeah, Nebula-"

"No, not to Nebula," I interrupted, standing up.

"When I was eight and kept losing, he didn't just lock me in my room. He had Ebony Maw do things to me. . .he started slow by making incisions in my back to see how much I could scream, and then did this," I lifted up my shirt and her eyes widened.

"He started putting viles inside of me that he found on other planet's to see how my body would react to them. That's how I got my power to heal," I explained, "but every experiment, every needle - it left behind this."

My stomach and back held my memories. It was littered in scars that would never go away and ruined me.

"I-I didn't-"

"No one knew. Not even Nebula until a few years ago," I admitted.

"I get why you fought so hard but. . .I don't think I can forgive you."

Gamora looked like she had just seen what hell was like. A light mist formed over her eyes, realizing that whenever she won, someone else had paid the price.

"I know you'll never be her," I admitted, "but you could at least try to act like we were sisters."

"You are," She grasped my hands tightly in her own, "you've always been. I'm sorry I never saw it until now."

I removed myself from her, "I know you mean it, but I'm going to need you to go."

She hesitated but nodded, "ok."

Gamora shut the door behind her and wanted to scream. All of the "What ifs" plagued her mind, wondering what would have happened if only she had noticed sooner. But before any tears could escape, she heard a shuffle and spotted the golden boy lurking.

He looked just like she did.

Shocked and furious.

"If you do anything to hurt her, I will slit your throat in your sleep," Gamora told him before walking off, leaving him stunned.

The mere thought of someone making you cry made Adam furious beyond belief, but torturing you? Seeing how loud you could scream - how much pain you could take?

He didn't know understand love but that was not it.

Adam was initially going to go to your room and try to 'woo' you, as Drax said to do. But now, all he felt was rage. He knew Thanos was dead, along with everyone who worked for him, so he didn't know where to put this anger.

"(Y/N)?"

"Adam, now is not a good ti-" as I turned around to face him, all I saw was anger. Red flashed across his face, just like the first time we fought.

"Adam? Are you okay?" I questioned.

"I-I feel angry, and I don't know what to do. I want to kill him," Adam ranted.

"Kill him? Who?"

"Thanos."

The name still left a mark on my mind and it made me want to vomit.

"He-he's dead, Adam," I said.

"I know. But he needs to pay for what he's done to you. It isn't fair. No one so kind, so generous and loving should ever experience that," He ranted, unknowingly confirming that Adam knew exactly what Thanos did to you.

"You heard. . ." This was my fear. I finally found someone who makes me smile and makes my heart race whenever we're together, and he knows.

He knows I'm fucked up. He knows I have ugly scars that'll never disappear. He knows I have a dark childhood. He knows I'm-

He shook me from my mind by placing his hands on my shoulders, "I want to protect you. From now on, no one will ever lay a hand on you again. I'll do whatever it takes, (Y/N), I promise."

"Why?"

"Drax says it's because I love you. I only knew my mother's love but I know that when I see you, I want to make you smile. I want you to be happy and always laughing and never upset."

Love? Shit, I didn't know the first thing about it. I always thought that the torture and the lectures were love because a father always wants you to do your best. But after the guardians, I felt lost. This friendship and trust, it was love, but how could I ever replicate that?

"Adam, are you. . .sure?"

He was caught off guard, "yes, I am. Do you not love me?"

"I do, but I don't know how to express that. You deserve someone who does," I told him.

"What do you do with someone you love?" He questioned.

"You hug them, you show that you're there for them no matter what, you learn what they like, you show it in physical ways. You kiss-"

"Then kiss me," His boldness made my whole body still and I felt like face become hot.

"What?"

"If you love me, then kiss me," He stated, still as blunt as ever. My heart was running a mile, and my mind was screaming at me to stop.

But I couldn't.

I lifted my face to his and kissed him. I expected it to be a small peck, but my body wanted more. I yearned for his gentle touch and placed his hands on my waist as he gently kissed back, still unsure about his movements. His lips were soft against mine, following what I did. As I pulled away for air, he pulled me back in. It made me gasp as his hands held me firmly, his lips desperate for mine. I felt breathless as he held me closer, and my hands began to venture into his hair.

"Seriously?!"

Peter's voice made me pull back, frightened that he had seen.

"Everyone but me!" He shouted as he walked away, and I was still firm against Adam's chest.

"I thought kissing was a private affair," Adam said, confused.

"Y-yeah, it is, but my door is open. Adam, you're sure you want this? With me?" I asked, still frazzled at the kiss.

"I only want you, and we can learn how to love each together, right?" He said, so innocent but so willing.

"Yes, we can," I smiled.

"I heard of this thing called cuddling and it sounds nice. Can we do that too?"

I gave him a soft kiss, "for however long you want."

[moonlight-tmd]

How about Bumblebee ships where Bee has a protective uncle who is pretty much cybertronian Doomguy?

Also, how would others react to it?

Ya know, i had an idea related to the one with Bee having a decepticon dad.

What if Elita and Bee were actually related?

Like, we all seen how similar these two are, from personality to looks, it would only make sense if they were family. I was thinking of attaching it to the idea of Bee having a 'con dad but let's see if i can cook up something different...

So, I suppose the way it happened is that Bee's parents died cuz war when he was a tiny bitty. Elita, being his aunt, took him in and raised him. Bee was too little to remember his parents so Elita did her best to tell him about them when he was older. Besides her, he didn't have any other relatives.

Then, one day Elita had to leave for some mission. She promised her nephew that she'll be back soon... but she never did. Bee was in the middle of trying pass academy. Elita hired Arcee to look after Bee when she wasn't present, when the news of Elita dying on a mission reached them Bee refused to believe. He knew Auntie Eli better than anyone, he knew that she wouldn't just perish like that. Arcee stayed with him until he was old enough to be on his own, she helped him get around in life to the best of her capabilities.

Bee tried to have a normal job like Arcee suggested but it just didn't sit with him. From all the stories Auntie Eli told him about being an Elite Guard he wanted to follow her pedesteps and become one too.

He got into boot camp and then- hell started. Bee was about to quit completely when he met Bulkhead and Longarm. Still, even with the newfound hope he got kicked out. Bulkhead was kind enough to pull him into the repair crew so he won't stay unemployed.

All this time alone Bee started to slowly lose hope to ever see his aunt again... that's until they crashed on Earth.

First year and few months were quiet but then Decepticons came. And wouldn't you know-

The fight was rather messy, at some point the structures on the demolition zone started to crumble and both parties had to run. Team Prime regrouped after the building fell and the 'cons were gone. Except Bee was nowhere in sight. They searched the entire place but there was no trace of him...

Bee woke up in dark place. His frame ached, made sense considering he remembered being hit with rubble while cornered by a giant spider. What he didn't expect was him laying in some form of medbay in a cave and said spider being the one tending to him.

He was quick to jump to his pedes and take a defensive stand. He demanded answers but the femme only told him to calm down and rest. She had that worried and hurt expression on her that Bee couldn't quite place... at least until she said one specific word.

"I wouldn't hurt one of mine, Sunny." She said at some point of their half-argument. Sunny- that nickname was only used by his aunt when Bee needed comfort.

"Wai- h-how do you..?" Bee's Spark seemed to have a seizure as he tried to comprehend what she just said. She only gave him that small kind smile- an expression that gave Bee a painful realization. "...Auntie Eli?"

She nodded and Bee could only run to her and hug her as tight as her could and cry. They talked, Blackarachnia told him vaguelly where's she's been and what she did in all these years, but she never quite told him why she was a spider- all she said was that it was an accident on a mission. Bee felt so sad for her, she went thru so much all alone. He caught onto the little mention of how ugly she was when she was talking and comforted her- she was his aunt always and forever. He even changed the little nickname 'Auntie Eli' to 'Auntie Ari' cuz her name changed.

After she patched Bee up she took him outside. She told Bee to not tell anyone about it so when he came back to base he lied saying that 'cons captured him but he escaped. The others bought it.

And so Bee sneaks out sometime to go visit Blackarachnia. Sometimes they stay hidden and talk, sometimes they go somewhere far to have fun. Sometimes Bee brings her gifts to use or decorate her not-so-little cave-house. One thing about having an aunt who's a scientist is that she can fix you up like a medic, Bee most often goes to her if he has a crash while doing something behind others' backs. Blackarachnia is the type to care about whether he won that race rather than what he did is illegal, spares Bee hearing a scolding for Primus-knows-which time.

They tried to keep the enemy charade going- despite her going rogue on Megatron, she still hated Optimus and his bunch. That's until one particular fight when Starscream showed up- she was hididng from them cuz some stray organic reported suspicious activity and Star showed up out of nowhere and started fighting them. He threw Bee off a tall building, before others had a chance to do something Blackarachnia swooped in spiderman-style and caught him. Starscream fled and she lowered Bee to the ground and started looking over him to injuries, before others got too close she also fled.

Once they got back to base they were wondering what has happened, in their talk trying to figure out why Arachnia would save Bee, said scout slipped.

He ended up spilling that Blackarachnia is his aunt- of course, she used to behave and look different. He told them that she was supposedly dead but he knew better and hey, it was true! She may not be the nicest person now but she's still family.

I suppose Ratchet would still be suspicious of her cuz he heard what kinda shit she can pull.

Bulkhead has heard the full story of Bee's aunt going missing long ago- he's happy that Bee finally found her but at the same time he's kinda worried cuz she is kinda evil.

Sari is happy for him, she feels bad for the gal but she's mostly happy for them to have found each other. She did ask Bee to take her for a visit but he always said he'd have to ask his aunt first. She may have gotten to meet her one time, it was quite a fun.

Optimus... he feels all shocked, stupid and guilty- Elita never told him nor Sentinel about having a nephew. When he first saw Bee he instantly got remined of Elita, he was also the reason she went missing in the first place... he couldn't look Bee in the optic after that.

I think he would give in and tell Bee. He's ask him to speak privately outside and he'll tell him he knew Elita when they were younger. That they went to the same academy, they were on the same team... that he was on a mission with her and something went wrong and he couldn't help her in time. It didn't matter if Bee hated him afterwards, at least he'll take this weight of keeping it a secret off his Spark. To his surprise, Bee wasn't mad at him. In fact he was sympathetic towards Optimus and even asked if he knew anything more about her. They spend the evening talking about Elita and how she used to be, Bee even said some stuff about her new self from the times he snuck out to hang out with her.

So now that the information is out in the open, Bee doesn't have to hide if he wants to go see his aunt. I think at some point, Bee would ask if he can let her come over for some holiday or something. The others are wary at first but Bee told them she's not gonna do anything- Bee told them that she said 'she won't bother them if they don't bother her' and so far she's been sticking to it. No more trouble from her side. It would be very awkward for Optimus tho- like, imagine if she came over for christmas and it was just this tense atmosphere around the two- at least until Bee brings out the drinks and they start to chat... Bee did not know they used to date in academy. "What others do with their lives is not your business... also, you were too young to know this stuff." Arachnia said when Bee argued why she didn't tell him.

I think at some point Elita Guard would visit and also learn the fact Bee is family with her. Sentinel is on the first fire- Arachnia has heard enough of what he pulled with her dear nephew to want to kill him, and keep reviving him just to keep killing him again and again and again. In the end he only got slammed into the wall and nearly decapitated with a threat of making him go to the deepest of Pits if he ever hurt Bee again. Oh, and she also told him she's Elita before that to add to the injury.

Jazz and Jettwins are kinda scared of her, she can be fun but she can also kill you if you make a wrong move so...

As for the ships reactions- Prowl would be worried cuz Blackarachnia is not someone to play with- but she was Bee's aunt and she did save him so maybe she's not as evil? He tries to stay positive for Bee's sake but he always has an optic on her just in case. (If he wasn't dating Bee he'd be just worried for Bee's safety.)

ShockBee- Blackarachnia knows Shockwave. Shockwave knows Blackarachnia. If she learned that Bee and Shock are dating(when he's disguised) she would take him when no one is looking and threaten to do him worse than Blitzwing if he tried anything with her nephew. Being a double agent also meant a treacherous relationship with someone of the opposite faction, she's not gonna take chances and let Bee become his toy. She'll even make him break up with Bee if need be. Shockwave's processor is working on the highest setting, trying to come up with a solution to make peace with all he got going on in his life. Bee thinks Longarm is scared of his aunt but in reality he's actually scared not knowing what to do.

And finally, BlitzBee. I think Blitz would find out way sooner than the others- meaning that Blackarachnia caught Bee alone in the forest just before Blitz arrived at the meeting. Yeah, they tried to kill each other but Bee managed to calm them down to talk. Both were alarmed and confused that the other talked to Bee like they knew each other...

Blitz was shocked when he heard the same person that messed up his processor is his beloved's aunt. Arachnia was more disappointed and worried than angry but she still hid it behind anger. Blitzwing wasn't the best mech and she didn't want Bee getting hurt by this unstable scrapheap... yeah Bee was not having a good time.

Somehow they all made it out alive and Bee got a little bit of alone time with Blitz. Next time Bee was visiting his aunt of course she demanded answers- Bee assured her that Blitz is good to him and won't do anything to harm him.

Blitz on the other hand felt a bit betrayed that Bee didn't tell him but at the same time he understood why. All of his personalities could not have had a harder time existing with one another... In the end he couldn't stay mad at him for having a family so it was all good.

I think Bee would try to get them to ease up so he tries to get them to hang out more like family. It kind of works? There's still some bitterness towards one another but at least they can talk without making it into an argument.

If the others find out about Bee and Blitz, Arachnia would and will force them to let Bee have a relationship and do some not nice things if they don't.

She may be smaller than most of them but she's definitely someone you DON'T want to mess with. She has ways of making folks suffer more than they can imagine and she will do them if it means protecting her only joy in life that is Bee.

I really like the side idea of Optimus making peace with Elita-now-Blackarachnia and them getting back together. Optimus is just trying to be a good uncle and Bee making it an experience to remember (bad) for his amusement. They grow to like each other tho.

[chronoslovers]

the suckening episode 13 spoilers

first of all, so so happy that there's a season 2! as the episode was coming to a close i was feeling super bittersweet as i felt that there was a lot that hadn't been resolved, so glad this series is getting a second season as it totally deserves it! it's been my first jrwi campaign so it's very dear to me.

second of all, shilo. sweet sweet shilo. god how i've loved his arc this season. the difference between the shilo of episode 1 and 13 is palpable. what i especially loved was shilo coming to terms with empathy - facing the consequences of the old peoples home directly during the games. that entire scene with ben's death was genuinely heartbreaking, what a brilliant moment to show that yes, your actions actively hurt people around you.

i've always believed for shilo to be kind, i think it's in his nature as a person. but his lack of empathy for others held him back. he went from basically sending castle guards to their deaths to attempting to make ben's death as pleasant as possible, using his own abilities for the sake of others instead of his own personal gain. this is something i'd really love to see explored further during season 2, can definitely see the parallels with emizel here with his note at the end of the session. both have used people like they were pawns (love the literal example of this with the card planning 'board' in the motel), and are coming to terms with this. the fact that the final track from the session is called 'absence of reflection' really sums this up for the both of them. they really struggled to reflect on their own actions for the majority of this season.

yet shilo has also been fighting for his own agency, this has already been discussed by others so i'll keep in brief. shilo was a pawn for edward from the very beginning, and honestly to a lesser extent for arthur too. he's constantly used for his title and connection to the queen unwillingly, others seeking to access the power that he has. during this season we've really seen shilo attempt to break free from this, to make his own choices as he learns more about the outside world and overcomes some of his naïvety that's honestly no fault of his own. i'd need to make a whole separate post for his relationship with edward but he was only ever seen as a stepping stone to power.

of course arthur is scary, both physically now and in his abilities from the start of the campaign. but in this finale honestly i found shilo the scariest. his spell against edward that ultimately finishes the fight, the way he conducted himself in that moment, the loss of his innocence merit all made for such a wonderful scene that really shows how far shilo has come. he's always commanded people, he's not the best at physical combat but Words, that's nothing the other two pcs have much power with. the power to change someone's appearance to 0 and impact their social stats is such an insane amount of power, and i really hope this is the direction shilo heads down next season. combined with emizel's lives and physical combat skills they make a really scary duo.

summing things up, i really really love shilo. his arc has been incredible and i'm overjoyed that we will be seeing more of him as his story definitely isn't over. i'm glad we will probably get to learn more about his birth and his thoughts on that, guys they're so cain and abel. but yeah. brilliant finale to a wonderful season!

[cuubism]

k this is kinda random but i feel like a lot of people think that hob is some sort of super rare exception, the ONE person who would actually be happy living forever. but like. i feel like he's not really that special?

like, most people lose friends/family/partners and,,,, don't want to die? most people aren't suicidal? and people DO live for 80+ years now without committing suicide. is it really so "unrealistic" for somebody to live several times longer than that without wanting to die? but of course in so much of the media nowadays (see: the old guard, for example), immortality is perceived as a) a bad thing and b) something which only Evil People want because they're Greedy. and because of this, we all think of immortality as a curse, nobody would want to live forever, etc. in all the stories we tell, it's about people not wanting to live forever. and so we think that nobody would want to live forever. (side tangent: this is maybe why dream is so "who would want an eternity of this" - he's the prince of stories and all the stories say that nobody would want this.)

anyway imo hob isn't special for continuing to want to live. most people like living / aren't suicidal. actually i think neil gaiman is really cool for making a character who is (realistically) really happy to be alive.

i definitely agree with you, i think it's the idea of eternity that freaks people out more than the reality of living longer. eternity is hard for our minds to grasp and i think a lot of people would have an automatic response of 'no' if asked if they wanted to live forever. what does forever even look like? what would the earth even be like then? would you see the heat death of the universe or whatever? it's a hard concept.

but if you asked most people would you want 10 more years? 50? a hundred? if you asked in a concrete term i think most people would say yes, especially if they aren't going to age. living to 150 or something with normal aging would probably be really tough as your body breaks down, but without aging? sounds pretty good tbh.

of course it depends on people's life circumstances as well. somebody who's currently in a good situation is going to be more likely to say yes than somebody who's situation is hellish. but still.

another thing: the fact that hob always has an out changes the situation entirely. there's a huge difference between you have to live forever and you can live until you want out. hob always has an end point if he wants it and i think that would be a comfort during moments when eternity feels overwhelming. being forced to live forever is what changes it from a gift to a curse, you're basically trapped - probably one of the things that makes dream's perspective on it so different from hob's. hob chose to be here, dream didn't, hob has an easy out if he wants it, dream.... technically has an out but it's not in any way easy to choose or to make happen.

dream also has an immense burden on his shoulders that crushes him into the ground and that he feels he can't escape from. meanwhile, human life is always changeable -- even if hob gets himself into a situation where he feels burdened, given enough time he can get himself out of it, and he gets to make choices about how he arranges his life. meanwhile dream was just given this situation, and so on.

i also think that even if hob felt he didn't want to live anymore during his difficult moments, like after his family died and he was totally destitute, if faced with the actual choice he would say no. he might think he can't take this anymore, but if death actually showed up and asked if he wanted to die - when staring down the reality of it hob would say no. and i think a lot of people would too, even if only out of fear of the uncertainty of what comes next, if there is anything next at all. even people who are severely depressed and suicidal are often said to regret their decision the moment they actually try to kill themselves? like people who've jumped off bridges and survived have often said they regretted it the moment they jumped. so. i think most people might think they'd choose death and take it back the moment the reality arose.

so yeah i def agree with you

[dojimakaichou]

for @stingslikeabee.

★. ―

Daigo couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as he was brought before the prison officials. He was a free man — if the courts were to be believed — but the level of paperwork and administrative approval needed to truly release him had already delayed the process by a full day. The Chairman did not think he could bear another disappointment, so he kept his expectations low ( though his head remained as high as ever ).

Eventually, however, Daigo felt the general mood shift. A guard unlocked the shackles binding him to his chair and walked him to a small, colorless room. Inside, the garments he had worn the day he was arrested sat waiting for him. His personal affects were there as well ; the yakuza's wallet, watch, and cigarettes had been stacked neatly beside his dark suit. Daigo frowned thoughtfully. He remained skeptical until the same man removed his wrist restraints and gestured toward Daigo's things. After, the guard left, closing the door with a snap.

The Chairman massaged his hands, rolled his shoulders, and blew out a long breath. A bit of tentative hope needled its way into his heart. Quietly, he picked up his wallet. Daigo rifled through it, looking for the most important item he always carried : his wife's old hostess card from Shine, poorly laminated and faded. At that, some of the remaining tension in Daigo's body dissipated. He didn't care that the cash was gone. Everything he kept in his pockets normally was replaceable — except for that.

Daigo changed slowly, growing accustomed to the new fabrics on his tired body. He smiled thinly at the realization of how much weight he had lost. The yakuza was still formidable to look at, but the looseness in the sleeves of his well - tailored shirt and jacket confirmed what he had suspected. Once he was finished dressing, the Chairman scratched as his full beard and ran his fingers through his hair. It was all too long, coarse, and messy.

Soon, the guard came to retrieve him, and the rest of the process was a blur. Daigo inevitably gave in to his growing excitement. He wanted nothing more than to kiss his wife and hold his children. Hikari would seem like an entirely different baby after his time away. Daigo wondered if she would remember him. She had been so small when he left, so new to the world ; under his breath, he cursed the powers responsible for robbing of his chance to see her first months.

The yakuza walked out of the prison with long, confident steps ; unfortunately, they faltered a short distance away from the exit. Daigo saw the shapes of a car and a person ahead of him, but his eyes were too pained by the daylight to focus. He stopped, closed them, and raised a hand instinctively to shield his face. Beneath the shadow of his limb, his handsome features looked drawn and exhausted. For a moment, Daigo was not aware of who approached him — only that he was free and that he needed to conquer this demon if he was going to return to his home.

[guardxdavis]

sinqua walls, bisexual, male + he/him ― hey look, it’s davis brooks! they’re 33 years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for one week, and they’re currently working as a security guard in shrike mall. i heard they’re pretty uncertain, but i think they’re so brave at the same time. can they make it out alive?

Davis Brooks thought he had his entire life figured out. Coming from a military family, there was never any doubt about what he’d be. His grandfather was a Marine, and both his parents were in the army (which was how they met), and then his older brother and sister both followed in their footsteps, joining the navy and the air force, respectively. For him, it felt strange not to join the ranks as well, and beyond that, Davis genuinely wanted to, especially after his father was killed overseas. For Davis, there was no greater aspiration than protecting people, and that was what he wanted to do, so he joined the army like his parents.

Davis rose through the ranks, and he truly felt like he'd found his calling. This was his dream, and it was coming true. However, his personal life was not as fulfilling. He’d dated, but he’d never had a relationship last. And even worse, he wasn’t sure he’d ever loved any of his past significant others, and the longer things went this way, the more discouraged Davis became. Maybe love wasn’t something meant for him. Or maybe he just couldn’t get over his first love.

Growing up, Davis and his best friend Alec had been inseparable, and for Davis at least, it been more than that - he’d been in love. However, Alec had always claimed to be straight, so Davis had accepted that, never professing his love for the man. It was enough just to be near him. As they got older though, they began to drift apart as they went down different paths, Alec falling in with a bad crowd. Davis had tried to help, but there was only so much you could do for a person who didn’t want help. And eventually, they lost touch.

That changed though in a way Davis had never expected. There was a home burglary in his hometown, wherein one of the residents had been badly beaten, and Davis discovered on the news that the description of the perpetrator matched Alec, particularly a unique scar on his arm that Davis remembered from a biking accident. But that couldn’t be right; the Alec he knew wouldn’t hurt anyone. So he told no one, instead looking into it himself, and after a bit of searching, Davis tracked Alec down.

When they reunited, it was like no time had passed. Alec seemed genuinely happy to see him, and after talking, Davis knew that Alec couldn’t have done this. Alec swore he had nothing to do with the break-in, and he seemed aghast that suspicion was ever thrown on him. Davis believed him, though he was admittedly troubled when he learned that Alec had briefly dated the man who had been attacked. But Davis had been thrown off by the fact that Alec wasn’t as straight as he had assumed, and his friend revealed that he’d always had a crush on Davis. And then the men finally acted on their long-standing feelings for each other.

Alas, Davis had been wrong: the house was broken into again, and just as before, the man had been attacked. This time he’d had a security system installed, so he escaped major injury, but his security cameras had footage of the attacker fleeing. The footage was shown on the news, and when he watched it, Davis knew it was Alec despite the grainy footage. Even though the man’s face was covered, he recognized the scar and the tattoo on Alec's wrist he’d seen during their night together. Davis felt so foolish, and, angry with himself, told his mother everything, seeking her advice. She was furious he’d kept this to himself, and after his mother called the police, they converged on Alec's house. Wanting to talk to his friend, to try and convince him to turn himself in, Davis went there too, reaching the house at the same time as the cops. But Alec would not come quietly, and there was a standoff wherein two people were shot before they were able to get into the house and arrest Alec. One of them was an officer who was hit in the spine and would be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. The other was Davis, hit by what he thought was a stray bullet.

The wound could have been worse: Davis was shot in the shoulder, and apart from some physical limitations, he’d made a full recovery, though he was no longer deemed fit to serve due to his injury, and the army honorably discharged him. But Davis would never forgive himself for letting love blind him to Alec's true nature. His mother never told anyone else (her call to the police had been an anonymous tip), though the police briefly questioned Davis given the fact that he'd been there during the standoff. But Davis's mother could not look at him the same way, and Davis couldn’t blame her. So she suggested he move to Shrike Heights, the town she grew up in and where her mother still owned a home, having recently retired to Florida. After his siblings figured out what had happened, Davis had nothing keeping him in Boston.

[soliloquivm]

⸻ KIM JONGIN HE + HIM / have you ever heard of MAKE IT RAIN BY ED SHEERAN., well, it describes JACKSON RYU to a tee! the TWENTY NINE year old, and ARTIST was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say HE is more antisocial or more CREATIVE instead? anyway, they remind me of the feeling of a soft mattress for the first time in ages , paint stained t-shirts , blank canvas , maybe you’ll bump into them soon! prison tw , murder mention tw , bullying mention

time in notting hill : less than one year birthplace : london , england sexuality : bisexual relationship status : single

✯ jackson ryu grew up in low income housing where the streets were the kind that would be especially unsafe at night . he had public school education and struggled to pay attention , often not doing well on tests and other evaluations . ✯ when he was sixteen , jackson fell into the ' wrong crowd ' , the kinds that would ditch school , bullying the younger kids and smoke outside during their free time . ✯ jackson , while friends with these other students , didn't partake in the bullying , and in fact would try to sway his friends in the other direction , but considering his own lack of social skills , he was often afraid to make them angry with him , and didn't want to end up becoming one of their targets . ✯ with a low gpa , jackson didn't have a chance in getting into university , so he moved into a garbage , low rent apartment with one of his friends in which he slept on the pullout couch in the evening and closed it up in the morning so he could go to work at a local restaurant where he waited tables to pay the rent . ✯ jackson pretended to be happy with this life , but something never felt right . his roommate was out until all hours of the night , coming home high , or drunk , or with a partner in which he could hear them clear as day coming from the bedroom , and he always wished for better . eventually , he began to save his money so he could move out on his own . he wanted to change his life around and do something with it . ✯ it was when jackson was out apartment hunting , an attempt to get a lay of how much a new place would cost , that police raided the apartment , and while he was walking in , he was quickly in handcuffs at nineteen years old , being accused of armed robbery of the local bank , where one of the tellers had been shot and killed . ✯ robbery would have been a hefty charge on it's own , but jackson knew he was innocent and pled to every detective he could speak to , but nobody believed it . the evidence they had against him was insurmountable , the cash , stolen from the robbery and the gun used to kill the teller were both found with the rest of his belongings - and without a solid alibi , there was no other choice but to charge him . ✯ jackson knew all along that it was his roommate that had been guilty of the crime , and while it was against his better judgment , he'd said as such to the detectives , however , his roommate had a solid alibi , his mother claiming that he was at her house the entire time , so there was no chance her son could have done the crime . ✯ jackson was found guilty of all charges, and sentenced to life in prison . there he sat for ten years , longing for the chance at freedom , attempting parole multiple times , but each time he was denied . ✯ while he was in prison , though , in an attempt to keep himself busy , jackson began painting during therapy hours and realized that he had a talent with a paintbrush . he'd practice every chance he could , spending as much time in front of an easel as the guards would allow , losing himself and time in his artwork . ✯ it took ten years , ten long years for the justice system to run it's course , when new evidence from a different crime linked his roommate to the robbery ten years prior . with that , jackson was released from prison within a few weeks , the only personal effects to his name being the easel that he'd been given by one of the counselors , and from there he was expected to start from scratch , to ease himself back into society . ✯ this has been a hard adjustment for jackson , not only has the ten years been difficult for him , but integrating himself back into a world that no longer felt like his own . he first stayed at a shelter for the homeless , painting on his free time , doing portraits on the street corner for cash in order to save up money for his own place . without any expensive vices of his own , it only took a few months , and he was able to rent a small apartment in notting hill , where he still works on his art , often commissions for people over the internet and word of mouth .

[thephantom394]

Today marks 12 years since the day my life changed completely. The setting in motion of so many stories thereafter.

Recently I saw a post from a woman I follow on Instagram, who has a daughter that suffered a traumatic brain injury several years ago. She talked about how the yearly anniversary of the date of the accident always catches her off guard. As she reminisced, she talked about the beauty she's found since, but also the crushing grief of what could have been. She said that she felt like the date was so isolating in a way, like the rest of the world turns as normal on that date but she has to fight through it alone. I commented and said I understand the feeling - I know I'm the only one who remembers September 18th, 2012. There's one other person who probably still remembers the circumstances and me within them, but has tried to forget it ever since. There is no meaning in the date to them.

It takes time to be reborn, So forgive and wait a little longer.

I still remember when I asked God if I would marry him, although I don't remember why I asked. It was a cold night - around New Year's - somewhere near the back of the old wooden lodge. But I do remember feeling like the answer was "yes." Of course, I didn't have nearly the reservations about supposed "whisperings" from God back then like I do now. I sometimes miss when it felt like God was so close to me, and I could recognize His voice amongst all the noise of my feelings and doubts and the opinions of others. I mean, that's why the events of the entire Colorado year transpired the way they did - because I was 100% convinced that God wanted me to pray and fight for him. Nobody could tell me otherwise. Any romantic feelings were complications that had to be looked past. But when I felt like God said "yes" in that moment, I was confused. Even more confused when I learned later on that he had his own "impression" from God that he was meant to find his future wife at camp. The revelation was mutual. So why did things end up the way they did? I left broken; he left with another girl who became his wife.

In the time since (especially since getting married myself), I've tried to explain this in a few ways. One, maybe we really were meant to be together and he decided to go against what the Lord wanted and pursue someone else. I wouldn't put it past him. He still got to feel like the prophecy (for lack of a better word) of him finding his spouse at camp came true, and he didn't have to put in the work to be a better person or make amends with me. Two, it's possible that we both genuinely heard from God, but for my part, the Lord meant I would end up marrying someone like him, or the circumstances would be similar. Which ended up being very true. Everything from the fighting to love, the hard background, the darkness at times...there are some similarities although the two men could not be more different in personality. Or, finally, there's also the possibility that one or both of us just heard what we wanted to hear and that God actually had nothing to do with it. Maybe God was silent the entire time and we filled in the blanks, trying to make sense of our complicated paths and justify the whims of fickle teenage hearts.

I might never know. In fact I'd say there's a pretty good chance I'll never know. But one thing I do know, I can't look at everything that's happened since that first September 18th and think it wasn't divinely orchestrated. I can't imagine another timeline where I would willingly choose to go to Boyce College over the other school I actually wanted to go to, end up staying in Louisville, and meeting the love of my life here. Everything happened in the earth-shattering way it did to get me where I needed to be. The burden of actually giving a damn about him was so heavy, because it was orchestrated to be heavy. I had to be so incredibly sure I knew what God wanted of me that year in order to spur me to do everything I did later.

I still want to make it back out to the mountain one day. Maybe on a September 18th. But for now, I'll just remember it and not let today pass me by.

Nine eighteen

This time last year

There wasn’t anything between us.

Your kiss was still holy,

And our love was lawless.

Don’t you remember 

Anything at all

From the night you and I

Began the downfall?

Your words were riding

The crest of the waters,

And even then I couldn’t hear

Between them, your falters.

Lion’s arms wrapped me up

In desperation and sorrow

But he forgot the strength of his claws

And down he fell with his halo.

Just once, will you go back with me

To the days spent out on the porch,

When we would laugh about our pasts

And make love instead of war?

The warrior was my hope,

The prophet was my messiah.

But the lover was also my blunder,

And the beloved became the pariah.

I can’t stand to think about you now

With a beer glass to your lips

When I can still remember

Your hands holding my hips.

Rescue isn’t going to come

By way of bitterness and anger

It takes time to be reborn,

So forgive and wait a little longer.

Someday the warrior will fall

And no one will be there to catch him

Except for the nail-scarred hands of the Father

And the gospel found therein.

[heartysworld]

The gift that saved them all || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: nothing much just a bit of blood, nothing too disturbing

A/N: Somebody sent this an anon request and I've been working on it for a while, trying to come up with plot points and everything, I hope you like it guys! Also if anyone else wishes to be added to my taglist,comment or message me so I can add you! Feedback is very appreciated! <3

MASTERLIST

The entire court was aware of the youngest Prince's departure for Pentos over a year ago. Prince Aemond left not long after his brother's crowning ceremony, being unable to look at the cunt he was supposed to call his King and obey. One night, suddenly Aemond decided he was going to mount Vaghar in a fortnight and take on a journey, first to Pentos and wherever the Gods take him from there. For an entire year the Queen Mother received three letter total from her youngest son, the only information they contented being her son's location. It had been months before another, fourth letting arrived,this time informing the Queen that her son would be returning soon,it was not specified when, thought. Every single day since, the Red Keep was in preparations for the return of their second son, a tourney was to be held and then followed by a big feast. Every bible house that was in alliance with the crown was invited, it had been long since something joyous happened.

What nobody expected was,for the young Prince to arrive three months later,and not alone as well.

As Vaghar landed on the place she usually did when she used to lay before, the guards that were sent to welcome the Prince were surprised to be met not with one but two figures climbing down of Vaghar's saddle.

"You've served us well, my old girl. Thank you, Vaghar." Your lover said in High Valyrian to the old dragon that was already preparing for a long well-deserved break.

"Come,my love, they are awaiting us." Aemond spoke as you felt a hand sneak around your waist, pulling you closer to his warmer one. The flight was long and exausting, and cold.

" I am delighted to be able to visit your birthplace, my beloved." You said, nuzzling your head against his chest as the two of you headed towards the carriage that was to take you to the palace.

"This is your home as well,Y/N, you know this." Aemond responded, pecking your lips briefly before the sound of horses squalling outside was heard and you slowly started your journey towards the infamous Red Keep.

All your life you've only heard stories of it, so interesting and fascinating that you even happened to see it in one of your many dreams. That was something unique about you, every night,another story would unravel before you in the world of the dreaming. Everything you dreamed of was always different,never the same, and it was all permanently stamped inside your brain,down to the smallest detail.

When you first met your silver haired Prince, a wave of shock shot through your body. You've seen this man before,he was a constant part of your dreams,even if the story was different he was always present. That day,you knew there was something special about him,you had to find out what it was.

The sudden stop of the carriage pulled you out of your thoughts. Aemond was the first one to step out of it as one of the guards announced his name and title. His mother,the queen, awaited him at the entrance of the Red Keep, Aemond's siblings and grandfather right behind her.

Alicent was full of joy as she saw her son after over a year being away. However, her happiness was quickly overthrown by confusion and anger as she saw a second person exit the carriage, a woman, who her son helped go down the wooden stairs with such care nobody's ever seen before.

Who was this woman? Why has her son brought a stranger in the royal palace? And without even consulting her or anyone else.

"Mother, I see time was good to you,not much has changed since I left." Aemond spoke, oke of his hands still holding one of yours. That was a trait of his you were very fond of, whatever happened, he always needed to be touching you,in any way possible.

While you beloved spoke to his mother,your eyes roamed over the figures standing behind her. What you assumed was Aegon,the oldest, had a smirk quite evident on his face as he came to realize what his brother had done, the woman next to his, possibly Helaena, was starting somewhere at the distance, dissociating. An interesting family he has, you thought.

"Aemond, what's the meaning of this? Who is this woman?" Otto Hightower asked, interrupting the Queen's words as she was just about to speak.

Aemond smiled briefly before turning his attention to you, both his arms going around your waist as he pulled you to his body.

"This, grandfather, is my bride." Aemond spoke, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. "My lady, my Y/N." He added,his voice quiet, also inaudible.

"This is nonsense, Aemond! Have you gone mad!? How dare you bring a random whore in the heart of the kingdom!?" His grandfather's voice echoed around everyone. Nobody dared to speak,not even the Queen herself.

"Be careful how you speak of my bride, grandfather, she is very dear and important to me, I will not hesitate to shut the mouth of whoever tries to speak against her." Aemond snapped, his mother flinching at his tone.

"Please, father, no more harsh words." Queen Alicent spoke in attempt to ease the tension. "Let us go inside, I am sure that Prince Aemond and Lady Y/N are tired, their journey was long and tiring. We shall speak of this when everyone is well rested and calm."

•••

Ever since that moment, which was a few days ago, nobody dared enter the chambers of the younger Prince as he himself had ordered so. This was mostly a desire if his own, as he wanted to nit he disturbed while he rested or made love to his lovely bride he desired so badly.

On the fourth day of your arrival, a knock was heard on the big wooden doors that separated your and Aemond's chambers and the hallway.

"My prince," A small voice said from outside. " the Queen has requested yours and Lady Y/N's presence in the Small Council's chambers. Quickly, if possible." What you presumed was a servant said.

"We shall be there shortly." Your Prince answered briefly before you were once again left alone.

"It is time, my love. Let us go and show them how special my bride is, aside from her beautiful looks and sweet cunt." Aemond teased you while you were getting dressed,his body wrapping itself around yours as his mouth left a trail of hot kisses over your neck and shoulders. At his words you gasped, punching him in the chest with an amused expression. You knew your Prince liked to use his words freely, but that didn't mean you were always ready for such a phrase of his.

"You flatter me,my beloved. But don't forget yourself, you have the tendency to do so." You turned around in his arms, lips ghosting over his while one of your hands sneaked down to the bulge of his pants, squeezing tightly as you watched his expressions change from one to another. A hiss left the Prince's mouth,followed by a devilish smirk as he roughly claimed your lips.

"If it wasn't my mother calling for us, I wouldn't have left you get up from this bed for days, my witchling." He murmured against your mouth, hot breath hitting your face.

With every step you took along the large hallways if the Keep your amusement only grew more and more. You've never been to a palace such as this one before, despite having travelled most of the world in your years of life.

"There's plenty of time to explore my birth home, love, but now, let us focus on while we're here." Aemond said. Just as he finished his sentence the enormous doors of the chamber in front of you opened, revealing a spacious room with a big wooden table at its centre surrounded by what you counted nine chairs, seven of which were already taken.

"Now that all of us are here, let us begin, nobody goes out of this room until we finish our business." The Hand of the King spoke,his stare burning holes into your head.

"Let us leave aside the fact that Prince Aemond had brought back a wife from his journeys, let us discuss what is so special about her that caused him to ask for an audience as soon as possible." The Queen spoke.

As much as she tried to seem neutral of her son's decision to marry in secret, the disapproval was heavily evident in her tone.

"My wife is not just some Pentoshi commoner, mother. Y/N has an unique gift, something that our enemies could only wish for." Your Prince spoke from beside you.

"So she is a witch?! Is this how she made you marry her?! With magic!" Otto Hightower shouted. The Hightowers,you knew, were a religious house, no surprise they would be against such things,but that did not mean a mere old man who's almost in his grave to insult you and your ancestors' beliefs.

Your chair loudly screeched as you stood up from your seat,Aemond tensing beside you.

"What what you speak, Lord Hand! You have no power over me,no right to speak such foul words against me and my ancestors! Without me, your cause will die in vain!" You raised your voice against the old man, nobody else present daring to speak.

"And how did you come to know this?! Are you one of Daemon's spies, did he send you here to finish us from the inside?!" Hightower continued.

This time, Aemond had enough as he stood us as well. Your lover was very short-tempered, especially when somebody went against his words and wishes.

"That's enough!" He shouted. "My wife is no whore, no spy and has no other intention aside from helping us. You should be grateful for what she is about to do for us." He spoke, a tad calmer now but there was still anger laced in his voice.

"And how do you know this, Aemond?" Queen Alicent asked.

"I know because I have seen it,mother. Our victory, my brother on the throne with the Conqueror's crown on his head, my sons." Aegon said. His words seemed to have made everybody speechless, all the other men present in the room remained speechless.

"I see things, Your Grace. I have seen me and your son meeting and getting married years before I even bled for the first time. I have a purpose on this world, and my husband is a great part of it, so is the remainder of your family." You spoke calmly. You knew the woman was not to blame for her father's ways of thinking and sudden anger outbursts. The only thing you could to was speak to her nicely, hoping she'd understand.

"And how...how were you able to see those events happening,my Prince, if I may ask?" The Grand Maester spoke,all the attention going to him.

" My bride's blood is the key, Maester Mellos. Consuming an amount of it shows the person who drank it all she's seen. I, myself, have tried it." Aemond explained.

You could see the way everybody's faces expressed disgust at Aemond's words, but that was the way this worked.

"Gods be good." Tyland Lannister whispered under his breath, on the verge of throwing up.

"I wish to see for myself." The Queen's voice claimed your attention,a small smile appearing on your face, grateful for her desire to find out personally.

"Alicent, this is...!" The Lord Hand started once again,but this time his daughter held her hand up, silencing him immediately.

"If what my son says is true, we cannot miss such an opportunity, father." The Queen said.

"Do not forget yourself,mother, she is also my wife, not just a weapon of yours! She shall be a Princess, right by my side, the mother of my children!" Aemond said, his voice on the verge of snapping. His anger grew by the second as he watched his family once again think only of their own benefits.

"As you wish, Aemond. Now, I wish to see. Show me,Lady Y/N." The Queen spoke, turning to you once again.

A few minutes later,a cup halfway filled with your blood was placed in front of the Queen, your hand bandaged while you stood beside her.

"By drinking this, Your Grace,and then letting me place my hands on your head, you shall see what I've shown my husband all these months ago." Your words did not bring much comfort to the Queen as she felt her heart on the verge of bursting,but she knew she had to do this,for her family.

Gulping down the contents of the cup in one big gulp, Alicent swallowed the thick red liquid while your hands slowly fell on the top of her head. The rest of the men present watched with uneasiness in their eyes,all except Aemond,who had a small smirk plastered on his face, knowing what was to be the outcome.

Moments passed until different colors started appearing before Alicent's closed eyes, as if she was dreaming. Different images shot one after another, first was Aegon being crowned King, the Conqueror's crown being placed on his head, then a babe appeared in front of her eyes, an infant held by her younger son, while he laid next to you, his tired wife, the last thing Alicent saw was her oldest son's dragon,Synfyre. The dragons enormous jaws opened as bright light appeared from inside its mouth,seconds later flames enveloped whoever was standing in front of the beast. Her sight then fell on the person in question, a woman with long silver hair and beautiful violet eyes, someone she had known all her life, her childhood closest friend, Princess Rhaenyra.

Tears gathered around the Queen's eyes, settling worry in everyone's chests, except yours and your husband's. Seconds later, she opened her eyes, staring right at you.

"Are you well,my Queen?" You asked as you took your hands off her head, she only nodded as a response.

"I am fine, thank you for asking, Lady Y/N." She answered while she stood up from her seat, slowly stepping towards the exit.

"Alicent.." The Hand said, worried about his daughter.

"We shall speak of this later, father." She said, turning to you once again. "Thank you,Y/N, for showing me your gift. It will be deeply appreciated." With that, the woman left the room, leaving everybody else wondering what she had seen.

"Come,my love. I know this takes a lot of your energy, let us go rest." Aemond spoke as he supported your body out of the Small Council's room all the way to your own chambers.

10 years later

A lot has happened during the past decade, but most of it you had already seen in your dreams and sudden visions.

Aegon now wore the crown with pride, having crushed his half sister's forces. You and Aemond now had three beautiful sons,all complete copies of their father an not a single trace of you in them.

With every passing day, the Queen Mother's gratitude towards you increased. Thanks to you her son was now King of the Seven Kingdoms, you have seen all future attempts to usurp the throne and prevented them, you have given birth to three beautiful grandchildren she adored so much. Without you, she would've been dead by now, burned to ashes together with her children. You were the gift that saved them all.

Taglist

@ccallistata @social-life-does-not-exsists @kiribrima @westsidelegendary @vaf24

@edum123 @kittycatcait219 @nataliarosana60 @scarletraine @strawbbyjamb @rosey1981 @dunkle-mondseite @anaisbambia @yourswitchling @misskatiewrites @sprikadirkkirk @barnesfilms @beelanie

@fairyfolkoresposts @multifndom @nerdy4itall @simpforfictionalchatactersstuff @drmeghanjones @eudximoniakr @percypup

@idkjj04

[itsasainz]

Is that a yes? | Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: Daniel’s never felt like he was yours, not wholly, and it’s impossible. Established relationship. based of “the gold” by Phoebe Bridgers, with a hint of “peace” by Taylor Swift.

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings/tags: Toxic(ish) relationship, angst, hints of smut, some fluff, insecurity, arguing and conflict.

a/n: I am mourning seb and Danny leaving f1 so much. I need help. anways lmk what u think and my requests are open!! x

masterlist!

Couldn't really love you any more

You've become my ceiling

I don't think I love you anymore

That gold mine changed you

You don't have to hold me anymore

Our cave's collapsing

I don't wanna be me anymore

My old man told me

Daniel’s smile is wide, distinctive; the first thing people notice about him, the thing they always remember after, and you are no different, no more impervious to his cheer and charm than anyone else. He knows it, which only makes you wish he was less to you than he is. He knows that, too. Daniel, as ever, is aware of your inner turmoil, your paradoxical feelings for him, the way you beat yourself up over it, and he hates that you hate because he doesn’t understand why you won’t let yourself feel the way you do.

Not everyone is good at expressing their feelings, Danny, you had once said – practically spat his name – to him after a night out. He knows the story, the family history, the thousands of reasons you keep your cards close to your chest and your perfected skill at reading the most steady of poker faces -- and yet Danny has never been able to imitate that skill, nor has he ever wanted to hide his love.

Another thing you’d once said to him, in a much softer tone, was that he was probably the only man to ever look at you and understand you. You were guarded, careful with your words; that was the closest you’d ever come to telling him you felt loved by him, something he’d only realised when he heard you say, with complete nonchalance, that being understood in a relationship was the same as being loved.

He wants to kiss you. He loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone, he wonders if you’ll let him do so, then remembers where he is. No kissing in public. You’re trying to catch his eye from across the room; he recognises the expression. You’re always asking to leave early, and it doesn’t matter how much fun he’s having, he never wants to stay if you won’t be there. He meets you at the door.

On the way home, you acknowledge that you’ve made a habit of this. Watching him, letting him bask in the glory while you stand on the sidelines, thoughts trailing back to your home or your work, guilty about hating how you share him with the world.

Years ago, back when you first met him, he had listened curiously when you explained your muse and artist theory; the concept is simple, in every relationship there is a muse and an artist – the extrovert and the introvert, the giver and the taker. You had explained that relationships only work when each person accepts their role, and that relationships always fail when both people are trying to be the muse or the artist. He had asked you which he was, and your face had flushed. “The muse,” you had said, “Obviously.”

And yet, you think, as you watch his hands on the steering wheel, you resent that he is not just your muse. You hate that he gets to bask in the attention of the world, like your love and your care isn’t enough. The possessiveness is so foreign to you, but this is cumulative – having shared his heart for years, perhaps you need him to yourself for a while. Perhaps – and the thought alone is awful – it is not so bad that he doesn’t have a seat for next year. You can love him wholly, and he might just return for more than a few days at a time, he might let himself be yours, entirely.

At the end of the day, he wants to feel love, and it scares you that perhaps you don’t give him enough, perhaps you’re so terrified of letting him feel it when you never have more than a few days of him to yourself.

In the lift, his arms heavy on your shoulders, he presses his lips to your temple, the moment soft and quiet. Breathing on his scent, you relax right into him, your fingers holding the fabric of his sweater. Be mine, you want to say, be mine like you mean it, like if you had to choose between the glitz and glamour or me, you'd come and have a quiet life. In the lift, with his arms heavy around your shoulders, he presses his lips to yours.

When he speaks, his words blow into your hair, lips so close to your scalp that every movement is almost a kiss; “You’re quiet,” he observes, “What are you thinking?”

You do not tell him the full truth; the truth would make him feel awful, cruel. “I’m glad I’ve got you to myself,” you tell him instead, “I’m glad I’m the one who gets to come home with you.”

Your words send vibrations through his ribs, his shirt pressed to your skin. He twirls your hair between his fingertips. “Only yours.”

You pull away slightly, staring up at that cheerful, charming face. Until the morning, you think, until you remember who you are.

You wake up to his alarm, naked under the sheets, Danny's body heat keeping you from shivering. His breath is hot, damp, on your neck, his arms caging you. You stretch out, fingers exploring the cold air and finding his phone, switching the alarm off. You whisper his name, but he is completely and utterly dead to the world.

"You don't open your eyes for a while

You just breathe that moment down."

Forty miles out of East Illinois of my old man's

Heart attackI believed you were crazy

You believed you loved me

You wriggle out from his grasp, worming your way out and letting him settle onto his back, still snoring slightly. Your kisses litter his neck and chest, your thighs straddling him as you kiss his cheeks, the corner of his mouth, fingers laced in his curls vaguely admiring his dark lashes and tan. You almost don't notice the slight flex of his hand on your thigh, his soft sigh bringing his rise to consciousness to your attention. He is smiling – it's not the wide smile he's known for, but a smaller one, a softer one. The one he seems to save for you – one of the few things about that is yours, utterly yours. You don’t have to share these moments with anyone but him, and you love every second of it.

"Why don't you wake me up like this every morning?" he teases.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, face hovering over his. "I don't always wake up before you. You're not always here."

His fingers skim your waist, he kisses you more deeply. You love him, and, for a minute, you believe he loves you too.

-

He's sat in the terminal, watching you from afar as you chat to one of your parents over the phone – he's not sure which it is, but you're taking in every word they say like it's the gospel. You notice him watching and flash him a smile, quickly distracted again by what your parent is saying.

He feels bad, dragging you through airport after airport, disrupting the flow of your life, only for you to sit in the garage for hours a day while he's busy. Nowadays, unlike the first year or so of joining him for Grand Prix weekends, you make yourself scarce until Saturday afternoon, only really joining him for Quali and the race itself. He tears his gaze from you, staring at his trainers where they rest atop your suitcase. You're coming back toward him.

"Mum and Dad say hi," you say, kissing him in greeting, "Dad says he can't wait to see you next week."

Danny can't help but smile. He loves all of you, family and all. He remembers the first time he met your parents, how embarrassed you were when they had brought up your teenage years – the raging insecurities, the misdemeanours, the chaotic fights with your siblings. Seeing you at home, with your parents and siblings, made him realise the facets of your life and love he hadn’t anticipated. He understood for the first time, when he was sitting on your lumpy single bed in your tiny childhood bedroom, that your stony façade and calculated expressions of love are born from the fear you feel of being judged.

He’d always known you were from drastically different backgrounds, but it hadn’t struck him as something that could even be considered embarrassing until he had realised that you were, in fact, embarrassed of the normalcy of your upbringing. He loves you, and you love him, but sometimes it feels like you’re talking past each other. You never feel his love because, fundamentally, you don’t think of yourself as loveable, and that breaks his heart. He wraps his arms around you, always surprised at how cold you are. “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure how you got here, what started it, who took the first dig, just that you’re standing in the middle of your shared Monaco apartment visibly shaking through your rage. Daniel is ranting – caught up on a comment you made about his lifestyle, reminding you of every little thing he’s done for you in the past four years, and you are fucking fuming. How dare he? How dare he?

I don't wanna bark here anymore

Black hills, the collie

Wasn't really dangerous for us

We just catch you coughing

What the hell are we gonna do?

A black mile to the surface

I don't wanna be here anymore

It all tastes like poison

“Daniel,” you say, cutting through the endless stream of words. The moment is suddenly very still, his talking stopped as he looks at you expectantly.

“What? What, Y/N, fucking what?”

“I am not going to stay here and listen to you undermine every sacrifice I have made for this relationship. I appreciate that you opened your home up to me, and that you’ve welcomed me into your social life and your family life, but it doesn’t fucking compare, okay?”

He looks a little stunned, but you’re on a roll now, unleashing the pent up resentment that you’ve swallowed for so long. “Daniel, I quit my job, that I loved, so I could come to more of your fucking races; I moved across the world so I could see you more – I left my life behind for you! My parents, my siblings, my school friends, uni friends, work friends, my home! And for what? So you can tell me about all of your sacrifices? I spend more time with your friends than mine! I barely know anyone in Monaco that I don’t know through you! And I am so fucking lonely, Danny. You’re always away, and when you’re here, I never have you to myself – You’re always preoccupied with racing and your friends, and I am so sick of being the person you spend time with when everyone else is busy! So no, I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you undermine my sacrifices. I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

Daniel can’t find it in him to open his mouth or utter a word as you brush past him, storming down the hallway to the bedroom. Your words are thick in the air, weighing down on him – the only comparable experience he has is moving to Europe to pursue racing, but that doesn’t compare.

As he listens to the sound of your packing across the apartment, he is instilled in the most unfamiliar of fears; you, leaving. He has always been so sure of this relationship, always known you were in his corner – now? Now, he is faced with his own obliviousness, with the idea that you might not be in his corner any longer, that perhaps he was so caught in the fight that you could have left months ago and he wouldn’t have noticed. He still hasn’t moved when you come back in, abandoning the suitcase in your hand to rummage through a drawer in search of something – your keys? He’s not sure.

You walk past him, pulling your coat on by the door, pulling your shoes on hastily. He sees what you were looking for – your passport, sat on top of your bag, and suddenly it dawns on him that you’re not just heading over to stay with a friend for a night or two, you’re serious, you’re going home.

“Y/N, love, can we just talk about this?” he says. For someone who’s never had to worry about being heard, he’s conscious of how quiet his words come out.

You look at him, finally, mascara stains on your face and a resolute severity to your features. “I’ll text you when I get home, but I don’t want to talk to you until I’m ready, okay?”

-

You’re wrapped up tight in a thick coat, a scarf pressed to your cheeks, your fingers pale and cold in the wind. It feels strange, being out in the sticks, far from the chaos of city life; two weeks since you last spoke to Danny, spending your time with loved ones and reuniting with old friends. They know to steer clear of talking about him, but you can see that your mum is mourning slightly for the idea of your relationship – she wants more grandkids, or perhaps just wants to see you happier than you are now, crying nonstop, barely leaving the house.

It’s a miracle they got you out of the house today, enticing you with the idea of catching up with your siblings and getting to see the dog. Juno, your brother’s collie, is getting old now, but she still loves to be unleashed in the rolling hills just outside of your hometown, your nieces playing fetch with her, their gleeful laughs getting caught in the wind.

Your mum, sitting beside you with a flask of tea in her hand, looks a little teary-eyed, watching her grandchildren. “What happened?”

You glance sideways at her. “What d’you mean?”

“With Danny. I always thought he was going to be my son-in-law. What happened?”

You pick at your nails. “It wasn’t working. He’s away so much, I don’t know how to make peace with that, I don’t know how to share him with the world. Plus, I don’t think he’d clocked just how much I’ve sacrificed to be with him.”

She offers you the flask. “I know he’s got a lot going on, but you deserve someone who’ll give you their world the way you’d do for them. I’m glad that you stood up for yourself, but I’ll miss the fella.”

You smile, the steam from the tea warming your fingers and face up a little. “I think I’ll see where we’re at when the season’s over – you know, now that he won’t be going to all the races and stuff.”

“You’ll do what’s best, I know you will.”

You rest your head on her shoulder. “When did you get so wise?”

“I know you forget it, but I have lived a life, you know,” she teases. You can put off talking to Danny for a while longer, you think, you can just enjoy being home, even if it makes you feel like a teenager again – the same bed, the same busy house. These days, it feels a bit like it did when you were seventeen, all your siblings at university while you stayed at home.

It’s hard to understand why you’re here; how you ended up sitting in the hotel restaurant with your ex-boyfriend’s mum in the futuristic city where he is racing. It’s been a month since you last saw him, but Abu Dhabi is a welcome getaway after a month of living in your monotonous hometown while your neighbours theorise about why you’re not with Danny. The speculation online has been unbearable – you and Danny have always been private, never opened up much of your relationship for scrutiny, but eagle-eyed fans have noticed your absence from the paddock, and some fans have posted photos of you at home. But here you are, with Grace, who glosses over the strain between you and her son admirably.

Can't open your eyes for a while

You just breathe that moment down

Forty hours out of Homestake

And I'm trying to translate you again

You’re waiting for him to come down from his room; his family are all flying back to Australia in the midafternoon, but you and Danny are booked for evening flights – you want time to work out what’s going on between you, to work out where you’re going now.

Once he arrives, breakfast moves smoothly. He’s in a good mood, despite his hangover, laughing and joking with his sister’s children, who are positively smitten with their impossibly cool uncle. The goodbyes take forever, even  though he’ll see them all in a week or so, and by the time they’ve left and you’ve both packed, it’s lunch time.

He takes you out to a fancy place for lunch, where you sit in the sun and catch up, skirting around the real reason you’re here. After, walking through the streets, you never quite reach the topic because he gets recognised by fans every thirty seconds, and you dutifully take photos of him with the strangers.

“Are you still angry?”you ask, tentatively. He doesn’t need to ask what about.

“No, if anything I’m fully at your mercy. I know I haven’t been the best of boyfriends lately, I know you’ve made bigger sacrifices for me than I understood, but I realised, when you left, how much I need you. I’d get it if you want to call things off, like, permanently, but if you’re willing, I will do everything in my power to make you feel loved. I love you, and I am so sorry you haven’t felt it lately. Let me make things up to you.”

You contemplate his words. “I knew, when I met you, when I agreed to go on that first date with you, that it wasn’t going to be easy. I’ve always known you’d be away constantly, that you’d always have other priorities. But it hurts, Danny. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to withstand it.”

“I love you.”

“And I hate having to share you.” you mumble. “I hate it, but I know that if I want to be with you, I have to make my peace with that.”

He looks forlorn, and you almost mourn his smile. “I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m not completely and utterly yours.”

You love him. You love him so much that you’re entirely ready to give up all your dignity, to let yourself follow him around and believe him. He’s never going to be yours, not wholly, but, perhaps, so long as he wants to be yours. If he’s true to his word, if he does love you like he says, you could learn to let it slide. It overwhelms you, the sudden need to figure yourself out; his gaze, not expectant, but so hopeful. How could you break a heart like that?

You turn to face him, not caring that you’re in public, or that such a pivotal moment is being witnessed by the world. You feel him taking hold of your hands, his palms warm and calloused, you feel him kiss your forehead, and then, subconsciously, without instruction, you melt into him. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and hug him tight. He kisses the crown of your head, a light peck, and you let out a shaky breath. “Come home,” he murmurs into your hair, “Come with me.”

You wonder how much of your relationship has been taken up with him asking you to come with him, or to delay the inevitable farewells. “My flight.”

“We can sort it out. I’ll sort it out.” he promises. You’re crying, getting his shirt damp, but he hasn’t noticed. “I missed you, more than you’ll ever know.”

You lean back, pull away slightly and take him in. He’s teary – a rare sight. You take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s not an urgent kiss, not rough or soft or slow, it’s just a kiss, just a little signifier of your love. When you break apart, he presses a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“Is that a yes?”

[lessthanimpressedlesbian]

What Remains

They bury her bones in Gelvaan, next to the hut where Imogen first met the spooky witch who changed her life forever. 

Imogen lays her beloved to rest with her rock hammer, the sole belonging Laudna kept from before. It was her father’s, she’d told her once. He used it to clear away rocks on their farm, though occasionally he would let Laudna borrow it to split open geodes. Imogen doesn’t feel right keeping it, so she places it carefully atop the relatively small wooden box, tears falling as she tries to send out a thought she knows will never be received. 

Rest now, darlin'. You deserve to enjoy some peace and quiet. 

Her friends follow suit, each placing something small in the grave, whispering parting words that Imogen tries her best not to hear. She doesn’t keep track of their gifts, preferring to stand away from the rest. Imogen shakes her head when FCG tries to give her their condolences, quietly stepping back when the others look at her with concern. She wraps her arms around her stomach, mentally pleading for them to leave her alone. One by one, they agree to keep their distance. Imogen knows none of them are happy about it. 

Imogen's father helps her shovel dirt back into the hole, his face as stoic as she's ever seen it. It's his eyes that betray him— always have. He's got tears pooling in them, but he doesn't do more than offer Imogen a quick hug once they've finished the task. 

Things are different now, even if some things have stayed the same. 

Relvin had wept when he saw Imogen, battered and bruised with lightning scars reaching up to her shoulders. He clung to her, his thoughts a mess of guilt and relief and love. The concern took her by surprise, especially when he noticed the box she held close to her chest. Laudna’s body didn’t survive the failed ritual, leaving behind her clothes, personal effects, and bones. Imogen didn’t look at her father while she told him, but his soft voice gave away the empathy he had for her. He didn’t push, but his heart broke for his daughter. He may not have understood Imogen, but he understood the love she felt for Laudna. He’d had that same love for Liliana.

Imogen is still angry with him, angry that he never told her about her mother, that he knew she was alive, that he knew what Imogen was going through. It takes a long night of drinking and talking before Imogen realizes that Liliana left them both. Her father couldn't handle the heartbreak, so he locked away his memories and built a wall between them when Imogen's power started manifesting. She can still fault him for being distant, but she understands better now.

Her friends stay with them in their home, cramming into the den while Imogen takes refuge in her old room. Chetney and FCG take glee in exploring all the knick-knacks Relvin has collected, while Fearne and Ashton sit quietly as they pass a flask back and forth. Orym keeps guard outside her door, though she wishes he wouldn't. 

She's not upset that Orym and Fearne came back. 

But sometimes, she's angry that Laudna didn't. 

Not for the first time, her eyes fill with tears as her breathing starts to come out uneven. She knows Orym can hear her, and part of her wants him to. The pain and loss and fury overtake her, a miniature hurricane erupting within the small space. She grabs a pillow and screams into it, tearing at the cloth until she’s surrounded in feathers. Another cry escapes her lips and she forces herself to sit down and breathe, willing the storm away as she clamps down on her emotions. Her breathing takes a bit to get under control, but eventually she’s able to hold her breaths for a handful of seconds without feeling like she’ll die if she doesn’t let it out. Imogen looks around her, taking in the rather childish carnage of her latest emotional outbreak. She fists the pillow case, pulling the two halves apart completely. It doesn’t make her feel better, but at least all she destroyed was a pillow and not an entire street. 

With a deep sigh, Imogen lets herself fall across the bed, not bothering to move into a more comfortable position. Her feet nearly touch the floor, and her head almost hangs over the other side. She knows she should actually try to sleep, but how can she when Laudna isn’t there to chase away the nightmares? Another shuddering breath forces its way out as she remembers their nightly rituals.  

Laudna would always wait for Imogen to get into bed first, insisting that she choose which side she wanted that night (nevermind the fact that Imogen always slept furthest away from any window). While Imogen moisturized her arms and applied some healing salve onto her hands, Laudna would take the time to massage out the tension accruing in her shoulders. Sometimes, when Laudna was having a particularly bad night, she would let Imogen brush out her hair, carefully detangling the long strands and lulling the older woman to sleep. Other times, Imogen would fall asleep to Laudna embroidering their clothes and humming some tune she didn’t recognize. It had taken time to build up these rituals, and Imogen almost laughs at the memory of their first few nights traveling together.

Imogen wasn’t used to sleeping on the hard ground, even with the cushion of a bedroll. Laudna wasn’t used to comfort or warmth, and would curl into a tight ball from years of always anticipating danger. They both took a few weeks to shuck off their old sleep habits, and months more to form their new ones. Imogen lets out a sob as she remembers the feeling of Laudna’s arm resting across her waist, her unnaturally cool skin soothing the heat radiating off Imogen’s back. 

She's gone.

As much as she tries, Imogen can't stifle her sobs. Rather than anger or hurt, all she feels is a deep hollowness in her chest. She takes refuge under her covers, finally laying down properly in her bed. That hollow feeling starts to grow and expand, consuming her entire being. Imogen doesn't bother trying to fight it.

Laudna’s gone, and she's never coming back. 

As she lays in her childhood bed, clutching at Pâté and Sashimi, Imogen lets herself grieve. 

[clarafell]

Homura has seen the rise and fall of many lives within the icy walls of Zapolyarny Palace. She was witnessed mortals come and go, watching them as they wither away with age. She has noticed the disappearances of important figures, though not because of dying from old age. She recalls how Crucabena, always with her sickeningly sweet smiles and wicked gleam in her eyes, had left the palace walls for one last time... Only for Arlecchino to arrive to replace Crucabena after slaying the now deceased woman, though that deadly battle had not taken place on Snezhnaya soil. Homura has witnessed many things within the Zapolyarny Palace, only the palace, but one thing struck her as... odd.

The Balladeer's very existence has always made her quite curious, simply because he behaved so strangely. He did not behave as normally as others, she has observed. For one, his choice in attire was strange... almost as if the harsh weather surrounding him did nothing to him. To wear shorts in Snezhnaya is an odd sight to see, only made more strange by how he wore his cloak. It wasn't just his wardrobe that struck her as odd, however.

She has caught him looking at the Tsaritsa with such a strong yearning in his eyes, almost as if he longed to be on the same level as an archon—

But there, faintly, were flickers of anger in his gaze. It fascinated Homura, though she never had the desire to speak directly to him. She liked to observe him, however. The morning when no one, not even the Tsaritsa, remembered his name is what sparked confusion within her heart. It reverberated throughout her entire core, filling her with a strange sense of sorrowful defeat. He meant nothing to her...yet his disappearance seemed to have impacted her. The feelings blossoming from his strange disappearance from everyone's minds felt like a missing piece of a puzzle, but she would soon be distracted by more questions about him.

The 6th spot in the Harbingers was not meant to be empty, not for hundreds of years. The Tsaritsa has been thinking about allowing her to take the spot, but she holds back on making a formal decision for multiple reasons. Was it a matter of depending on the ranking of her strength in battle? Homura always assumed she had more duties to worry over, so that's why the Tsaritsa wanted her to focus on what was more important. To create more contracts, more and more soul gems, is what the Tsaritsa desired for her to focus on... Not the matters of the Harbingers.

What happened to the Balladeer? Why did no one remember him? Did he perish in battle? No one could answer any of her questions. It bothered her quite greatly since she was always fortunate enough to receive answers from the wise Cryo Archon or her followers. No one, however, had any answers for her about the Balladeer. No one within her grasp, that is.

❝ Lord Scaramouche... Is that truly you? ❞ The offer for tea is temporarily forgotten by the mere sight of the forgotten harbinger. Homura stands, funeral dress hidden by her thick cloak. She lingers in front of him, staring. Should she try to contact someone about this development?

She wasn't sure what to do for someone that has vanished from everywhere and everyone. What is the point of reporting the presence of someone that no one remembers existing? It felt like a waste of time, but... It felt like the right thing to do. He dressed very differently from what she remembers, but he still looks the same. The sight of his shorts were a dead giveaway that his personality didn't completely change. He seems to still keep his guard up, but he does look...calmer.

❝ Tea? Oh, of course, thank you... But I wouldn't want to impose if your supplies are low. ❞ It's strange for her to find anyone in the middle of nowhere. To be invited for tea is the last thing she thought would happen. She is tired from hiking, though she is not done with her contract quota for the day.

he  recognizes  her  —  because  of  course  he  does.  how  could  one  not  recognize  the  tsaritsa's  beloved  little  pet?  the  true  question  is  whether  she  RECOGNIZES  him.  though  much  of  teyvat  forgot  the  balladeer's  existence,  the  traveler  was  wholly  exempt  from  irminsul's  manipulations.  this  one  is  similar,  is  she  not?  an  anomaly  —  a  being  not  of  this  world.  it  only  stands  to  reason  that  she  might  also  be  similarly  unaffected.

of  course,  discerning  as  much  is  easier  said  than  done.  he  can't  simply  ASK  HER  without  showing  too  much  of  his  hand.

instead,  the  wanderer  observes.  he  perches  atop  a  tree  stump,  one  leg  crossed  over  the  other.  there's  a  cup  in  his  hand,  emitting  delicate  curls  of  steam  —  and  ren  blows  on  it  gently.  (  a  useless  gesture;  it  would  take  more  than  a  hot  drink  to  scald  his  mouth.  )  beside  him,  there  is  a  kettle.  old,  heavy,  iron  —  yet  miraculously  still  held  above  a  dying  fire.  several  seconds  pass  in  contemplative  silence  before  the  wanderer  tilts  his  head  and  raises  his  cup.  ❝  ...  would  you  like  some  tea? ❞  the  offer  is  entirely  GENUINE;  the  people  of  tatarasuna  always  took  care  to  teach  him  the  importance  of  providing  for  his  guests  —  even  if  a  chance  meeting  in  the  middle  of  nowhere  isn't  exactly  what  they  had  in  mind.

@clarafell &&. liked for a STARTER.

[shipsandlattes]

So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already. 

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be��� umbrella for so long. 

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold. 

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean​ and @inacatastrophicmind​!