#they all have family but it's either bad or absent or both

[johnsspacesuittight]

Brackenreid has literally so many kids my god, there are his actual three biological kids, and then there's Higgins, Crabtree, Watts and Mrs. Hart, at LEAST

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Twelve

Steve wanted everything to be ready and set up for when Eddie got back; Hopper was going to drop him over later in the afternoon.

It didn’t work out like that at all; Steve’s parents left earlier than they said they would. He got Eddie’s things out of the closet, and then was heading to the garage to get the tent, really, truly intending to use this time to get everything right for when Eddie comes back.

Steve lasted twenty minutes in the empty house before he couldn’t take any more. He just missed Eddie too much. He was too excited to see him, to bring him home, way too excited to wait hours.

Especially since every moment now felt so precious, so finite.

So he thought fuck it, slipped on his sneakers and picked up his car keys and headed to the store. He definitely needed fresh groceries ready for Eddie to come home.

It’s a fairly good thing his mother never actually cooks; she might have had questions about all the peas in the freezer. As it is Steve has to rotate between stores, he's started saying, ‘I’m doing this green juice diet thing,’ every time he gets a strange look when he pays. Even that would only fly so far before people started looking at him like he was really weird; it’s not like Hawkins is a big place, there’s not exactly a lot of options.

From the store, Steve heads to the cabin, only to find Eddie sitting on the stoop, his bag ready next to him. He grins so big when Steve pulls up.

Hopper comes out with a steaming mug cupped in his hands and an unlit cigarette sagging between his lips, “you’re as bad as each other, I told him not until four, he’s been packed since half nine. Couldn’t stop him.”

Steve kneels on the step below Eddie so they can give each other a proper hug; he feels Eddie’s chest expand in a massive sigh, and then Eddie relaxes fully against him. Steve can relate; he feels the same.

“Sorry Hop,” Steve says absently.

Hopper makes a noncomittal noise, and Steve hears the rasp of his lighter, “all his things are clean, did a load of laundry last night.”

Steve stands, but finds Eddie’s holding his hand and Steve kind of doesn’t want to ever let go of him anyway, so it kind of works out.

“Thanks so much Hopper, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this.”

Hopper leans on the porch rail, “just laundry, kid.”

“You know what I mean, you’ve, you know, looked after him and I-”

“Hopper,” Eddie says, causing them both to look, “thank you,” and Eddie presents Hopper with a pine cone. It has strands of long grass haphazardly tied to it, little flowers and a couple of smalls leaves. Steve doesn’t look at Hopper’s face; he knows he will laugh if he does.

“Errr...you’re welcome.”

Steve thinks Hopper accepts his gift with grace.

The plan is to spend the whole afternoon on the couch watching movies. Eddie puts his things away; moves things around, spends an hour generally reacquainting himself with the place, Steve asks him if he wants the tent put back today, but Eddie shakes his head, clearly not worried about it. He also doesn’t want to get his shiny things back either; Steve offers to go into his parents room with him but again, Eddie seems disinterested.

He just seems to need to check where everything is before he finally settles, snuggling right up to Steve and settling his head on Steve’s chest, half cradled between Steve’s legs.

Steve knows Eddie’s missed him, Steve has missed him, too.

They don’t even pretend that night. There’s no talk of nightmares, or dark TV, or bad dreams. There’s no excuses about how it’s cold, or talk about Eddie sleeping on the couch; they brush their teeth together, and then Eddie gets into Steve’s bed before Steve does.

Steve sleeps with Eddie’s tail wrapped between and around his legs, and tries not to dwell on how much it’s going to hurt when it’s gone.

Steve walks through the door of Family Video, arms in the air, triumphant, “ayyyyyyyy!”

Robin mimics him from behind the counter, throwing her arms up too, “ayyyyyy...what are we doing?!”

“Celebrating, obviously,” Steve gets his ass up on the counter and shimmies around, dropping down on the other side, “we’re back together. The dream team.”

“The dynamic duo?”

“The perfect pair.”

“The...top twins?”

“That’s weak Steve.”

“I know, I couldn’t come up with anything good that begins with ‘T’ and I wanted to keep this going. Thanks by the way, I think we have two shifts together this week. I do not want to know what you had to do to get that-”

“Gross,” Robin slaps him in the chest with a half eaten red vine.

The bell over the door tinkles, a whole brood of excited kids coming in, looking for Christmas movies, Steve directs the mom to the right section. It’s not long before more come in, “what the hell is going on?” Steve gripes about all the little kids absolutely ruining the displays.

“Last day of school, everyone's out for Christmas,” Robin tells him as she rings someone up.

“No way,” Steve looks at the calendar pinned to the cupboard door behind the counter, “Oh. It is.”

“Yep Dingus, not long now, got all your gifts?”

“Shit Rob, I don’t have any gifts-”

“Terrific!”

“No it’s-”

“No no, terrific! With a ‘T’!”

“Oh...yeah, I suppose that was the obvious option.”

Steve gets home late, these closing shifts really starting to get to him, thinking about what the hell he should get Eddie for Christmas. He has no idea how long the whole...transformation thing…might take. Or how long until it happens. This might be the only Christmas Eddie ever has and…Steve’s going to do his best to make it amazing.

Tomorrow he’s going to drive out and pick up a real tree, get all the decorations down from the attic; Eddie likes shiny things, he should like it. Steve feels better with a plan of action, he always has.

“Eddie,” Steve calls as he closes the front door, stripping off his jacket and gloves. His ears are freezing, he should wear a hat really, but that would be a bit of a crime with his hair.

Steve can smell something; coffee he’s pretty sure, and something cooking, “Stee.”

“Hey Buddy, what are you doing,” Steve finds Eddie on a kitchen chair in front of the stove.

“Stee nine and a half.”

“Yeah, yeah I did say that buddy.”

Eddie’s carefully stirring soup on the stove top; there’s a bowl ready, next to a plate of crackers and randomly shaped cut up lumps of cheese. Well, more like hacked up lumps of cheese, but still.

Steve watches, heart sort of in his mouth, as Eddie carefully, tongue poking out in concentration, lifts the pot and pours the steaming soup into the bowl. He does it slowly, but perfectly fine, “Stee hot, ow.”

“I’ll let it cool down I...just thank you buddy, thank you so much.”

There’s a dirty knife and the empty soup can in the sink, but otherwise Eddie’s tidied up after himself. This must have taken so much effort; Eddie would have to move the chair every time he needed to reach something. Steve can’t help it, he dips, giving Eddie a soft kiss on the cheek.

Part Fourteen

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Notes - 016

Capricorn risings tend to have a lot of facial piercings or just look really good with them.

Venus in Aqua can be very aromatic with everyone until the minute they find THAT person and they do a complete 360. When they find the one they will be so faithful and romantic. People call them aloof and uninterested but they just know what they want and most won’t settle till they get that.

I’ve seen a lot of Mars in Pisces women that don’t believe in sleeping around. Most prefer to wait until they are in a relationship or married before giving that access.

Moon in Aquarius’s need to rationalize every emotion they experience and find out it’s roots when all they really need to do is cry it out. They try to find solutions to all their emotions which causes them get burn out fast. This is why it’s difficult for them to comfort others when they deal with deep emotions because they think they need to come up with a solution instead of comforting them. It’s okay to feel your emotions without making sense of them guys.

Pisces moons normally have period in their life where their mother was really distant from them or just completely absent. Ive seen a lot that their mothers could’ve picked substances over them or been in jail, or was just too immature to raise them at a certain point. A lot of Pisces moons grow up in a single mother household.

Capricorn moon/risings are normally the eldest child. And if not still took on a more responsible role in the family. Grew up around a lot of immature childish people

Sagittarius suns I feel like are way more rebellious than Aquarius’s. Sagittarius’s are so impulsive and get this big adrenaline rush from doing things they aren’t supposed to. Many rarely think about they consequences of what they’re doing which causes them to get into a lot more trouble. Especially as an adolescent.

If you have a Gemini rising people probably yelled at you as a child for talking to much or being too obnoxious

Virgo suns are either so good at communicating with others and fitting in or they are so socially anxious and awkward there’s no in between.

Venus in Libras will flirt with anybody who’s decent looking. They are not picky at all.

Neptune in the 7th house people can be very concerning in their relationships. Everytime they experience attraction it’s like they only try to see what’s good in that person even if they are absolute trash. They want love so bad but tend to just get in relationships because of that desire without actually getting to know who they are dating. This causes them to attract a lot of narcissists cuz they are willing to give out love so fast without seeing if it mutual.

Mars in the 5th house people 🤝 Rushing into relationships

Taurus risings look like forest nymphs they are so naturally beautiful

Venus conjunct mars people are so magnetic. They can have everyone’s heads turn the mintier they walk in a room. A lot of people have crushes on them.

Having a Lilith conjunct the ascendant in synastry usually shows an intense otherworldly connection that is most likely forbidden. You’ll feel like you finally found the perfect person until u figure out they are married with kids or your best friends partner. This connection is usually so strong that if one of the partners (or both) are in a relationship it can completely destroy their relationships. I’ve seen 20 year marriages end from this synastry. Known as the “home wrecker” placement.

Having your Lilith in Leo can show that you could’ve been treated as a wallflower growing up. People never really gave you much attention so you grew up thinking you weren’t meant to be loved and appreciated:( in this lifetime you are meant to break that and steal the spotlight

Having you North Node in the 7th house means that in a past life you probably were a loner or found it difficult to create bonds with others. Your opinionated personality pushed a lot of people away in a past life. In this life tho you are here to learn the art of compromise. You are here to build relationships whether it be family, friends or romantic relationships.

Pluto in the 11th house people im sorry for the amount of toxic friends you had to deal with☹️ I notice their friendships are usually really intense toward them the friends can become really jealous and possessive with them. Their friendships were closer to abusive partnerships than actual friendships. I’ve seen in some cases that their friends can act overly seductive with them as well which can be overwhelming & uncomfy. When these natives heal what attracts these folks however they can eventually gain some of the most trustworthy friends. These friends will help you climb the latter and normally have a lot of power. You can move mountains with the right group.

[megalony]

Say It Again

This is my first Aegon Targaryen imagine, I hope you all like it. any requests and feedback would be lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Masterlist

Summary: During an awkward family dinner, Aegon is willing to sit back and bite his tongue at his nephew's disrespect. But when that disrespect is aimed at his wife, he cannot stand by.

Enjoy.

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"Are you sure you are well enough to attend dinner?"

"Aegon… I know what you're trying to do." (Y/n) looked down at her hands before she dared to look up at her husband. She raised a brow when he only smiled before attaching his lips to her neck like a starved vampire.

It would be a more fitting excuse for Aegon to say that they couldn't attend dinner tonight because (Y/n) didn't feel well enough. No one would bat an eyelid at them being absent from supper, given that (Y/n) was eight moons pregnant. And it wouldn't be frowned upon if Aegon didn't attend either and stayed to care for his wife. It was a better excuse than saying the future King didn't want to be around his family and would rather stay in his room with his wife and a jug of wine.

"And I know what you are like, dear wife. I seem to recall the maids interrupting dinner last week to tell me you'd fallen." He liked the way (Y/n) groaned beneath him when he kissed her jaw and hovered his lips over hers before pulling back when she leaned up to try and connect their lips.

His hand roamed across the expanse of her stomach and squeezed her curved hip before he shifted off the sofa and stood up. If they truly were going to attend then they needed to leave now before they were late. His mother would have his head if they were late, again.

"They were fussing," (Y/n) mumbled quietly as she held her hands out towards Aegon, a pleading look in her wide eyes to ask him to help her up.

It hadn't been as bad as the two maids had made it seem and (Y/n) flushed in embarrassment from the panic she had inadvertently caused. She hadn't felt well enough to attend dinner last week and when her foot caught on one of the many tables in her and Aegon's chambers, she went down with a thud that alerted the maids. The most damage was done to the table which legs had snapped, whereas (Y/n) only had a bruise or two and a sore hip.

The maids insisted on getting Aegon when (Y/n) felt too sick and dizzy to stand and both Aegon and his mother had come running just as (Y/n) started to feel better.

Aegon had barely left her side since.

"You hurt yourself," Aegon corrected, but he indulged her with a charming smile and gently pulled (Y/n) up to her feet.

His arm secured itself in its usual place around (Y/n)'s lower waist so his hand, clad with golden rings, could spread out against the expanse of her stomach. As much as (Y/n) loved how close Aegon was to her now she was pregnant and how it made it hard for him to keep his hands off her, she was ready to have this baby now. The constant aches and pains, the burning in her chest and the sickness she was still feeling, were growing tiresome. (Y/n) wanted her baby in her arms.

(Y/n) felt her stomach fluttering as if the babe could feel her adoration when Aegon pressed his lips longingly to the top of her head before they entered the dining room, apprehensive of what was going to happen tonight.

Everyone else was just filtering into the room, but at least the King hadn't arrived yet. Then they really would have been late if they arrived after him.

(Y/n) took her seat next to Aemond with Aegon on her right and a soft smile formed on her lips when she noticed her husband inch his chair closer until their arms brushed when he sat down. It was almost laughable how ungentlemanly Aegon sat, he slouched as if he wasn't the future king but an errand boy already tired of his job. His back slouched down in his chair, he brought one foot up to rest on the bottom of his seat and he propped his chin up on his hand.

It was a very enticing pose, one that made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat, even if everyone else around the table glared and glanced at him with odd looks. Of course no one would say anything, what could they say? He wasn't going to act with etiquette just because people frowned at him.

Just the sight of the food made (Y/n) feel her stomach do summersaults and she knew if she ate a lot tonight it was only going to come back up later. She couldn't eat much, she would face Aegon's wrath of worry later. When a waiter leaned between her and Helaena and placed down a rather large plate of meat, the smell hit (Y/n)'s nose in an instant and her hand moved to press to her nose to try and block it. The smell would usually make her mouth water but now it made bile rise at the back of her throat that was tightening and she was almost gagging at the sight and smell.

"Will you try to eat something, for me?" Aegon's voice was so quiet (Y/n) barely heard the words that dripped into her ear like melted butter. He knew how to tease her and worm his way around her and he wasn't afraid to show it in public, either.

He perched his chin on her shoulder and pressed a butterfly kiss just beneath her jaw, feeling the way (Y/n) held her breath when he did so.

The longer (Y/n) went without eating, the worse she was going to make herself feel and the more she was going to worry Aegon. He had barely gotten through the first few months when (Y/n) hardly ate anything and spiked his worry to a peak.

Everyone knew that (Y/n) was Aegon's one weakness. She could calm him down from the most sour of moods, make him smile when others had only seen him frown and make him laugh when people only saw him cry. When (Y/n) was happy, Aegon was over the moon and when she was ill, Aegon was reduced to worrisome thoughts and troubled nights.

(Y/n) put a few sweet meats and a small lump of potatos on her plate because she knew that as long as she picked at something and tried to eat, Aegon wouldn't worry. And she could feel him smiling into her neck already because she was doing as he so politely requested.

Before a servant passing behind them had chance to reach the table, Aegon reached over and took the jug of wine from his hands with a smile and a curt nod.

He already knew that he was going to need more wine than this to get himself through this dinner.

There was no point them all being here, pretending to play happy families and everyone knew it. Aegon knew his mother hadn't forgiven his father for his lenience towards Rhaeynera and her bastard children and Aegon couldn't blame her. Not that it mattered very much to him, if things went the way his father had always said they would, then Aegon would never be in line for the throne, it would pass to Rhaeynera and her bastard offspring. That was how he wanted it. But something always told him he might see the crown one day and it was a frightening thought.

Aegon filled (Y/n)'s glass and his own but kept the jug very close to his plate, he wasn't sharing when he was going to be consuming a lot of wine tonight.

"Here, cheers."

The sarcasm that dripped from her husband's voice made (Y/n) shiver and she could feel his free hand roaming over her thigh, at any moment he would probably hike her dress skirt up like he normally did just to tease her since they were with company.

(Y/n) took a few sips before putting it down and leaning back in her chair, rubbing her hands over her enlarged stomach.

It took all (Y/n) had not to groan or sigh when she listened to Rhaeynera give her little speech about Alicent. Of course she would now give her old friend praise, but it was too little too late. Everyone knew of Rhaeynera's misdeeds, it was evident any time someone so much as glanced at her disrespectful offspring.

(Y/n) was just pleased that none of them were here in the Red Keep for long, her sons were insufferable and their constant bickering and tormenting was tiresome. Especially when they riled Aemond up for no good reason and that in turn brought Aegon into his brother's defense and he could be crude and ruthless when he wanted to be.

"Let me know when you want to go," Aegon took the liberty to pour himself another glass while his lips tickled over (Y/n)'s cheek and travelled across the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

She wanted to leave already but it wouldn't be polite to go when everyone was in the middle of eating. Aegon always said it didn't matter what everyone else thought or said, he would leave with her from any event if she wanted to go. But (Y/n) didn't want the fuss or the glares or whispers of they left too soon.

(Y/n) found herself drifting off into her own world, all the noises drowning out into static while the only thing that kept her grounded was the feel of Aegon's hand rubbing up and down her thigh. Occasionally squeezing the flesh like he was moulding clay between his fingertips. Leaning to the right, (Y/n) tucked her face into Aegon's neck and hooked her hand around his upper arm. She didn't have to look up to see the smile that danced across his lips, she could feel it when he turned to kiss her head.

But her attention was brought back to the chatter around the table when she heard Aegon whisper something to Jace who was sitting on his right. He didn't mean to rile them up but whatever he had said was clearly taken the wrong way. (Y/n) wouldn't have bothered to listen if it wasn't for Jace who leaned forward so he could look directly at her.

"And what time do you return to the silk streets?"

He spoke quiet enough so that no one across the table knew what he had said, clearly knowing he would be in trouble for being so inpertenant and rude but he wore a smirk that made (Y/n) narrow her eyes in distaste.

She hadn't even been engaging in the conversation yet he had brought her into it to try and rile both her and Aegon and for a moment she thought it was working. She felt her husband tense beneath her and his lips left her head so he could turn to his nephew, but instead of spitting venom at him like (Y/n) thought he would, Aegon leaned closer with a placid, neutral expression.

"Why, do you need lessons in that department? You do know what to do, how to put it in, don't you?" Aegon watched his nephew turn a shade of beet red before a satisfied smirk came onto his face and he turned away to lean back into (Y/n).

He would let the insult slide this time, but he wouldn't stand for it again. They could say what they wanted about Aegon himself and he wouldn't care, he had no self esteem left in him to care what anyone said about him anymore.

But (Y/n)… she was different.

She was Aegon's world and he wouldn't stand for anyone disrespecting her or saying anything degrading about her like that. If his nephews didn't have respect for (Y/n) Aegon wasn't going to be easy on them. Just like with Aemond, Aegon wouldn't stand for them tormenting his brother when that was his job.

When yet more unnecessary food was brought out to the table, it set off another round of tormenting between the boys at the table and the high princes who were not in the mood for games.

A shockwave bolted through (Y/n) and she jumped, sitting upright when Aemond slammed his fist down on the table and stood up low, stooping over like a predator assessing his prey. For a brief moment, it looked like he was going to lunge across he table at his nephews but (Y/n) didn't like the smirk that overtook her brother-in-laws face.

"And a toast, to my nephews. Jace… and Luke." Aemond knew what he was doing. The smile he wore on his face and how he deadlocked his gaze with Luke showed he was doing this as a taunt, a little payback at them both. He raised his glass high while Aegon raised his glass for all of one second before he emptied it. Again.

"Aemond…" Alicent looked up at her son with such pleading in her eyes but it was overshadowed and overlooked before he rounded the table to be closer to them.

(Y/n) could feel him standing beside her chair and she dared not lean back to look at him. She didn't want to know what taunt he was going to press because he had every right to be angry with them, but this was not the place to start a fight. Not at the dinner table.

"What? I'm only giving you a compliment. Don't you think you're strong?"

Aegon lowered his foot back to the ground and pushed up a little higher in his seat, but he made no effort to get up and interfere. His hand moved from (Y/n)'s thigh to reach across and take her hand. Their fingers meshed together and he brought their hands to rest beneath his chin while he leaned to try and see the interaction happening behind them.

(Y/n) could feel the rage seeping through Aegon the moment Jace landed a punch on Aemond's jaw, who surprisingly didn't flinch at all. Instead, he smiled something sinister. And she could feel her husband straighten up in his chair and grab the arm of the chair with his free hand. He wanted to intervene now but he also didn't want to move away from (Y/n).

If a fight did break out then Aegon wanted his wife as far out of the firing line as possible.

The way Aemond pushed his nephew down to the ground with a swift, fluid motion made Jace look like a little child trying to play a grown up game. Aemond didn't want to fight him, he wasn't worth the effort and he wasn't nearly as capable or skilled as Aemond.

Keeping hold of (Y/n)'s hand tightly in his own, Aegon pushed his chair back and stood up, pulling (Y/n) along with him so they could move away from the table and towards Helaena. When they passed Aemond, Aegon reached out and placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. As much as he would enjoy seeing a fight take place and watching his nephews finally be put in their place, he knew this wasn't the time nor the place.

"Brother, this isn't the time."

"You've made your point," Sympathy pooled in (Y/n)'s eyes but it was overcome by relief when Aemond glanced at both of them and nodded. He took a step back and held his hands out in front of him, a sign to everyone that he wouldn't retaliate.

"He listens to the whore too. Tell me, how much does she charge you for her services?"

If they'd of just walked away, let the argument go then everyone could retire and the night would be over and done with.

"Aegon-" (Y/n) held her breath when her husband tore out of her embrace before she had chance to hold onto him tighter and pull him back. She didn't care about the slurrs they called out to her, they were nothing but petty little boys egging on for a fight they couldn't handle.

She could feel Aemond's hand wrapping around her upper arm and reeling her back towards him when Aegon lunged.

Before anyone could stop him, Aegon swiftly latched his hand around the back of Jace's neck in a viper grip that took the younger boy by surprise. And with venom flooding through his veins, Aegon threw him down onto the table so hard Jace's head rebounded and slammed back down into the wood, rattling the plates and tipping over a few glasses in the process.

He couldn't stop himself from digging his hand further into Jace's neck and forcing his face down until there would be splinters poking through his skin and rubbing into his cheeks.

"Say it again. I fucking dare you." He spat through gritted teeth, punctuating each word like they were poison dripping from his tongue directly into Jace's ear.

Who did his nephew think he was to talk about (Y/n) in such a derogatory way? Why was he aiming his malice at her of all people?

"Aegon that's enough. Let him go, please." (Y/n) curled her fingers around Aegon's shoulders and leaned over his curved frame until her chest pressed down against his back. He could feel her erratic heartbeat and her harsh breaths pounding against him and it dampened some of the fire raging inside of him.

"I have no qualms castrating you in front of an audience if you talk to my wife like that again."

With a final shove, Aegon slid Jace across the table before he let go and straightened up. He shook his head to rid the silver hair from his eyes and took a step back towards (Y/n) as his chest heaved and his shoulders tensed. He was done with this messed up family. He didn't want anything to do with his nephews or his half sister who could have the throne for all Aegon. He just wanted them and all their troubles, gone.

Aegon barely turned his head to look at (Y/n) who was stood partially behind him on his left before a sudden movement sent him off balance.

In the struggle, Aegon wasn't sure whether Jace had aimed for him or (Y/n) but his weak punch ultimately landed on (Y/n)'s shoulder before he gave her a direct shove, thrusting all of his anger onto her and sending her tumbling down.

A gasp broke free from (Y/n)'s lips and she couldn't help but snap her eyes shut when Jace pushed her back. It didn't take much to offset her balance when her weight was uneven due to the baby and the force of the shove took her feet from beneath her. Both her hands reached out and clamped down around Aegon's arm and shoulder, her nails piercing into his skin when she fell until her back hit the table.

Aegon slowed down the impact but he couldn't hold them both up and stumbled down to his knees. He watched in fright as (Y/n) collided with the table before she slumped down to the stone floor and leaned back into one of the chairs which stopped her from lying flat on the floor.

"Sweetheart? Are you with me?"

Aegon leaned forward and gently cupped her face in his hands and swept his thumbs across her cheeks. When (Y/n) tilted her head back Aegon clicked his tongue and made her look back at him before he pressed his forehead against hers. He watched her eyes switch from side to side until her focus finally settled on his deep violet eyes.

After a minute or two, he felt her hand twitch against his shoulder and her hands shakily move down to hold onto his forearms and a deep sigh rumbled past his lips.

(Y/n) felt his lips smother her temple in a longing kiss that caused his fingertips to press deeper into her skin but when he pulled away, the violence in his eyes was terrifying. Aegon had never been the type to lash out, he bottled everything up and drowned in his sorrow. At one point in his very young life, he had taken his feelings out on the women in the silk streets and he would shout at his mother when he was overwhelmed, but that was as far as it went.

He was too used to pain that the sting didn't even bother him anymore, Aegon would drown his sorrows and take anything life had to throw at him.

But he wouldn't settle for this.

His mother couldn't have kneeled down beside them a moment too soon for as soon as she was next to (Y/n), Aegon left her side, if only for a few minutes. He could see his little nephew backing away towards his mother like a scared little deer about to be hunted for sport and Aegon wasn't having any of it. Jace couldn't get swaddled and soothed by his mother for doing this, not like Luke who got hidden and protected for taking Aemond's eye all those years ago.

The small dagger hidden beneath the belt around his hips had never felt so heavy when Aegon wrapped his slender fingers around the handle and swiped it as soon as he got close enough to his petrified nephew.

A blinding gleam sparkled off of the polished blade in the candlelight and reflected up into Aegon's maddening eyes.

He thrust the blade's edge against Jace's throat and agonisingly slithered it up higher and higher until his head was tilted back as far as it would go and the tip was pressing up into his chin. A small scrape appeared against his otherwise clean, pale skin but Aegon was already envisioning the river of blood he wanted to see coating the floor and seeping into the cracks between the stones.

When he noticed movement out the corner of his eye, something twisted crossed his face and he pushed the blade into the flesh until a small wheel of blood started to pool and taint the reflective metal. Rhaynaera stopped in her tracks.

"Any last words?" Aegon snarled, revealing his pearly whites that matched his crimped hair and his lips widened into a sinister grin.

He had no problem slitting his nephew from throat to groin right here with an audience. If he couldn't learn some manners and he didn't know what respect was then he shouldn't be in line for the throne he had no claim to. He shouldn't be standing here in a family that wasn't truly his by blood and he shouldn't act the fool if he didn't want to risk the punishment he was going to get. Aegon had been lenient, he had let Jace say slurrs to his wife and punch his younger brother, but he drew the line at physically touching (Y/n).

"Aegon leave him alone, stop this."

His mother's words did nothing to apease the fire raging inside his stomach and burning up through his chest. But when he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder and Aemond's whispers in his ear, he could feel a small slither of reason coming back to him.

"It's not worth the chaos it would ensue, you should tend to your wife." Part of Aemond would happily watch his brother disembowel their nephew and see the grief that would overcome their wretched half sibling. But the other part of him, the more sombre and sensible part, knew it was not worth the hassle.

This would cause a scene, a battle between the family and the constant fighting and bickering and torments that would follow if Aegon truly killed his nephew, was not worth it. Not when Aegon had a wife who needed him this very moment who he should focus his attention on.

Aegon punctured the blade into the soft skin beneath Jace's chin and dragged it along the side of his jaw. He relished in the swallowed cry Jace didn't want him to hear and the tears that flushed his tense, shaking face and the way his jaw clenched and his cheekbones popped out. He enjoyed the suffering and his nephew's screwed shut eyes from the minimal pain Aegon was inflicting.

He finally tugged the blade free and swiped it slowly along Jace's tunic, cleaning the blood off before he lowered the dagger to his side.

"If you so much as look at my wife again, I will disembowel you," He sneered each word quietly in Jace's ear so no one else would know what made him whimper in fear. "Leave."

He scuttled away like a rat jumping from a sinking ship and it quelled a small flame inside Aegon.

When he turned around, (Y/n) was already back on her feet with Alicent's arms safely around her in case she needed support or took a funny turn. His mother had never looked more relieved than when Aegon walked back over to her and encased his arms around (Y/n) so he could take his wife into his own arms and out of hers.

(Y/n) let her head fall against Aegon's shoulder and the cool leather was welcomed against her burning skin. But it was his hands feathering up and down her hips that made her sigh and his lips pressed against the side of her temple.

"Are you alright?"

"Hm, I believe so."

When Aegon circled an arm tightly around her waist and slowly began guiding them both out of the dining hall, (Y/n) buried her face into his neck and curled her fingers around his hip.

Aegon wouldn't let anything like this happen again.

[homiesexuallaj]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a one shot where the reader is new in town and Eric takes a fascination of her :)

Pairing: Eric Draven x reader

Genre/Warnings: little bit of angst, fluff, Sergeant Albrecht takes Eric in, Sarah is subtly trying to set you two up, splinter warning, Eric takes care of you, stalking (but like not in a bad way???)

———

After Eric's "rebirth" and vengeance killing, it seemed the gods refused to take him back. He thought he was done when he killed the last of Top Dollar's henchmen and yet, his crow sat silently. Mocking.

Eric's partake in violence calmed quite steeply. He was unsure what he was to do now. No home. No family. All alone in rainy Detriot.

Sergeant Albrecht seemed to take pity on the grieving vigilante and took him in. He offered him food and a roof over Eric's head. The boy may be undead but he didn't have to be completely alone in this world.

Over the next few years, Eric Draven became Detriot's official mysterious vigilante. He embraced the name the people gave him, "The Crow." Though he supposed the people gave him that name due to the crow that seemed to announce his arrival anytime he was stopping crime. It didn't bother him a bit. It was just odd to him that people who didn't know who he was, much less had seen his face, had enough love for him to give him a name. But that's what people did when there was an unknown light in the dark, become attached.

In his free time or during particularly quiet nights, Eric visited his former home. The window had been fixed and the apartment thoroughly cleaned out. The wood flooring was freshly polished and the walls repainted, hiding the gore that still stained Eric's mind.

A few people had moved in throughout the years, but maybe the frequently visiting crow that sat and cawed outside their windows had scared them off. Good. No one was good enough to live in the apartment for Eric. Not until you.

When you moved in, you brought the bare minimum with you. Just enough to make the place livable. You didn't have parties or scuff up the floors. It seemed that you mostly kept to yourself, either watching tv at night or you had your nose stuck in a book for who knows how long. You kept the apartment dark, only a few lamps lit of up place. The apartment was often lit up in a soft yellow light, just enough to see the pages of your books. And eventually, a small bird feeder was set up on one of the windowsills. Coincidentally, the same windowsill that Eric's crow often watched you from.

During one of Eric's more recent visits, he was surprised to see a familiar face sitting on your couch. It was Sarah. She had made herself comfy on your couch, all laid back and shoes thrown to the floor. The tv was on some kid show, it's bright colors contrasting with the soft yellow of the room.

Eric, from the shadows, looked around for you. Eric wondered if Sarah had broke in to your apartment and just made herself at home in his old apartment. But that didn't seem like her. Sure, Sarah had an absent mother but she was no troublemaker. Soon enough, Eric spotted you in the kitchen, dishing up two plates of chicken tenders with some dipping sauces.

You carefully made your way to the couch and sat down, handing Sarah one of the plates. Both of you quickly settled down on the couch, chatting and watching the cartoon on tv.

Eric couldn't hear what you two were talking about but was wildly taken back when Sarah looked his way and made eye contact with him. She didn't seem surprised at all. Sarah only gave Eric a knowing smile before turning her attention back to the tv. Thankfully, she didn't give Eric away.

After a few hours, Sarah left. She bid you a goodbye and thanked you for letting her stay. Upon entering the outside, Sarah looked up to the ledge Eric sat upon, looking straight at him.

"It's not safe to stay outside so late," Eric pointed out, not moving. "You know that."

Sarah shrugged, "And it's totally so safe to be sitting up on the ledge."

Eric huffed and climbed his way down, falling in beside Sarah as she started walking in the direction of her apartment. He observed the child, noting a small pep her in step.

"She works at the record store down the street," Sarah started. "Right next to the bar- that's been remodeled by the way."

The bar Sarah mentioned used to be Top Dollar's hangout. But now that they were all dead, the city took it over before selling it to some new owners. Eric didn't know how the bar turned out, he refused to be in that part of the city. He could barely handle being a street over from the place.

Sarah seemed to cue in on his wandering mind, "I can take you over there and introduce you to her. She's nice."

Eric shrugged, unsure.

The two finally approached Sarah's apartment. She hesitated, not wanting to leave Eric just yet.

"Go to bed," Eric ruffled her hair. "And stay out of trouble."

"Okay," Sarah gave Eric a quick hug before hurrying up the stairs. "And no promises!"

Eric only shook his head, turning around once he heard the door of Sarah's apartment shut and lock.

Sarah did as she promised, but it took some convincing to bring Eric onto that specific street. But with a little hand holding, Eric was dragged along. He tried to convince Sarah to stay away from that part of town, but Sarah was persistent. She was in that part of town all the time anyway.

When Sarah had successful gotten Eric into the record store, she booked it off into the store and disappeared from sight. The only way Eric knew where she was- was that he could hear her shuffling about the aisles. He sighed, a little nervous about the new area.

“She’s a handful, isn’t she?” A voice spoke from behind the counter to Eric’s right. It was you.

Eric was star struck. Seeing you without any windows in the way was.. different. It was a good kind of different. You were pretty, and much more lively looking compared to the view Eric got from the other side of weather worn windows. You almost drew his breath away, almost.

A crash interrupted Eric before he could really see the details of your features. It came from somewhere back in the shop.

“Sarah?” Eric called out, concerned.

“Im okay!” The child called out.

You sighed, almost disappointed and hung your head before making your way towards the crash.

“You better not have broken anything!” You called back, disappeared behind some shelves.

Eric followed, worried and nervous. He twiddled his fingers as he followed you through crowded aisles.

Upon turning on a back corner, Eric saw the crime scene.

There was a short table tipped over with one of its legs broken and splintered in half. A couple multi-colored milk cartons were scattered along the floor. Sarah was there, picking up and stacking the cartons. Once you two adults approached, she gave you both a guilty look.

“It was… broken when I got here?” Sarah lied, smiling.

You only shook your head and helped Sarah with a smile on your face, “You’re lucky this table was on its last leg anyway.”

"Literally," Sarah huffed, continuing on her task.

You kneel down onto the floor and begin picking up what's left of the table's wooden leg. You pile the tiny splinters in your hands, picking them up as carefully as you can to avoid any injury.

Eric helps Sarah with stacking the scattered milk cartons against a nearby wall. Sarah's whispering to him, telling Eric how awesome and cool you are. I mean, Sarah is cool and Sarah only hangs out with cool people only so that should be enough proof on how cool you are. And Eric can only shake his head at the kid's antics, and started almost thinking that this whole accidentally-breaking-a-worn-down-table was apart of some plan Sarah had.

Soon enough, the two of them were done and stood there as you threw away the splintered and broken parts of the table into a nearby trash can. As the last of the broken pieces fell into the trash, you suddenly flinched away and gave a small yelp. You held your pointer finger in the palm of your opposite hand. You had a disgruntled look on your face as you peaked at your finger.

"What's wrong?" Sarah and Eric asked at the same time, stepping forward on instinct and out of concern.

"Splinter," You told them, still assessing the damage. "I'll be okay. I've got some tweezers at the front counter."

"I can.. umm," Eric hesitated on his offer. "I can help with that."

"Sure," You turned your gaze onto Eric. "I guess trying to dig this thing out myself would be kind of hard."

Before either of you two responded or spoke Sarah spoke up, "I can take the table into the back!"

"Okay," You looked at Sarah before jokingly shaking your uninjured finger at her. "Just don't break anything else."

"No promises," Sarah winked and began dragging the broken table into the "Employees Only" room in the back of the record store.

"Okay! Let's uh, get this thing out of me," You gave a nervous laugh as you led Eric back up to the front.

Eric fell in step with you, gave your nervous look a couple glances. You still held your injuring finger in your palm, keeping it front swinging or bouncing with your steps.

Up at the front counter, you offered Eric one of the hard plastic chairs that were sat behind the glass front counter. You riffled through one of the drawers that lined inside of the wooden part of the counter until you found the tweezer that you kept in there for just this problem. You wiped them down of any debris on your t-shirt before sitting in a chair across from Eric. Your hands shook a little as you tenderly handed Eric the tweezers. You two made eye contact and you gave a little nervous smile.

Eric gave a comforting smile in return, trying to ease your nerves. He took the tweezers and your injured hand. Eric scooted forward so he could rest your hand on his knee so he could have something stable to work on. As he leaned forward, his hair fell and blocked in his face. This had caused his eyes to be barely seeable between the black strands.

You felt the tweezers pull at your skin, gingerly picking away at the layers. You were tense and it was almost as if Eric could feel it.

"Nervous?" Eric spoke, his voice low.

"Just not good with this kind of stuff," You swallowed.

"Being hurt?" Eric asked, glancing up at you.

"Being operated on," You corrected.

Eric hummed in response.

With this opportunity, you decided to size Eric up a bit. He was large, wide really, and muscular, but not too muscular. He had an agile build to his body, which you could still see even as he hunched over your hand. He was tall. He still towered over you when he sat up straight in the chair, and still now Eric's body sat just at your shoulder as he hunched over. His hands were large as well, practically engulfing your own. Eric's fingers were deft as he dug at the layer of skin to get the wooden splinter out.

Before long, Eric had plucked out the small piece of wood from your finger. The area around the damaged skin was red and irritated but lacked the pinch of a splinter. It was a relief that Eric was so gentle with his task.

"Okay," Eric sat up and stretched a bit. "All done!"

You brought your finger up to your face and observed Eric's job. He hadn't dug to deep and got all the splinter out. He did good!

"Thank you," You smiled a Eric and took the tweezers back when he handed them to you, your hand a little less shaky this time.

Eric seemed to stare at your hands as they took the tweezers from him. Your hands were soft and small. Your fingers were skinny and were adorned with rings of diamonds and garnets and rubies. The red looked great against your skin.

The man watched as you got up and put the tweezers back. You walked with a bit of unbalance, Eric noticed. He had the urge to pick up the bits of clutter and push any larger obstacles to the side in case you tripped. Eric's watching was interrupted by something being put down on the glass countertop. He turned to see Sarah with a stack of vinyl records.

Sarah seemed to notice Eric's staring and wiggled her eyebrows at him with a smug smile on her face. She then looked at you with an innocent look and a big smile, tapping her fingers on the stack of records. She was giddy, you could tell.

"Is this my assignment for the week?" You asked her.

Sarah nodded, not even giving Eric a chance for an explanation.

"What's on the agenda this week?" You pressed for information that was more than just giddy smiles.

"Hangman's Joke," Sarah answered.

At those words, Eric could practically feel the color drain from his face. He knew that on the covers and inside the vinyls were pictures of him and his bandmates. But Eric is supposed to be dead, and he's not. His palms grew sweaty and he suddenly got a bout of restless leg syndrome.

"Oh I know these guys!" You exclaimed, picking up an album. "I haven’t listened to them before but I heard on the news that the guitarist was murdered."

"Oh yeah," Sarah smile diminished. "I saw them live a couple times."

The child only side-eyed Eric before continuing her conversation.

"But it's better late than never!" Sarah changed the tone with a snap of her fingers. "I'll come over tonight so we can listen to an album!"

Eric snapped his head towards her, his brows furrowed.

"But," Sarah caught his gaze before looking back at you. "I won't stay too late."

Eric nodded, settling down into his seat.

"Okay," You nodded. "I'll look forward to it!"

Over the next few weeks, you and Sarah slowly made your way through Hangman’s Jones’ albums. You fed her dinner and entertained each other while the music played. And on nights Sarah stayed a bit too late, you set her up in bed with you. She didn’t like sleeping alone.

Slowly, Eric joined you too. Sarah brought him, or practically dragged him over. Slowly Eric warmed up to the idea of entering his former apartment. Maybe it was the fact that it looked like your home instead of his was the reason it made entering the loft much easier than it would’ve been a few years ago. It was here, inside, that he got to know you more. He admired your knick knacks and your love of whatever cartoon Sarah was introducing to you that night.

By the time October came around, Eric knew your hobbies and quirks like they were his own. He even started hanging around with you one-on-one. He often accompanied you at work during the less busy hours or nights when Sarah stayed home. Eric loved to admire the clutter around your home, and gladly gave you his full attention when you showed him something new of yours or told him about the latest book you were reading.

Overtime, Eric grew to seek you out on his own. And instead of lurking outside your apartment windows, he invited himself over (after making sure you weren’t busy by looking in through your apartment windows). He also went out with you at night when you saved up to go out to eat. He’d eat whatever you wanted, or whatever you didn’t want when you got too full.

It was lovely.

Other than spending time with Sarah, this was the happiest Eric has been in a long time.

But still. He found Devil’s Day to be hard.

The flashbacks were no longer there, but Eric couldn’t help but feel aggressive, irritated, and protective of his loved ones.

He still hated that Sarah stayed out on this night. Even if Top Dollar and his gang were long gone that didn’t mean danger still didn’t lurk in the darkness.

And when Eric didn’t find you in his apartment, he panicked. In a flurry of movements, Eric donned The Crow. He sent his crow one way while he looked another.

Later than he would’ve liked, Eric finally spotted you with Sarah walking down a not-so-brightly-lit-street. It made him nervous. But instead of stepping in like he wanted to, he kept watch all the way until you two turned onto a better street in the direction of home.

But the lights didn’t stop a silver glint in the shadows making an appearance.

A man lunged from an alley way, hugged himself up against you, and held a knife to your throat. He said something but Eric couldn’t hear over the rush of blood that pounded through his ears.

You’d dropped the back of candy you and Sarah had collected from around town. You were frozen, hands up about halfway, not sure where to put them.

Sarah, in a quick thinking movement, swung her skateboard at your guys’ attacker’s knees.

The man crippled, falling and bringing you down with him. The knife against your throat moved and cut a sliver into your skin. You yelped out of fear and pain.

In a flash, Eric was down there. He took advantage of the man’s weakness and shoved him down more, pulling him away by the back of his shirt with a means to strangle him into weakness. Eric avoided the man’s grabby hands of desperation. He pulled back and back until the man grew weak and passed out, dropping his knife. Eric dropped the man onto the concrete below, bristling with rage as he tried to slow his breathing.

After a moment, he stepped over the man and towards you.

You looked up at Eric, but you didn’t know it was Eric. It was The Crow. And it was the first time you’d ever seen him in real life and not in a quick, blurry photo in the newspaper. You were bewildered. He was taller and scarier in real life. Maybe it was his face paint or the fact he almost killed a man in front of you. Your face grew red as he kneeled down in front of you, and even more so as The Crow moved your hand away from your neck to observe the small cut that leaked blood onto your fingers.

Eric had forgotten all about his persona at the moment. Kneeling down in front of you to check on you and assess the damage. He had a gentle grip on your chin, which he used to turn your head this way and that way to get a clear look at the cut. He swiped a thumb over the cut, causing you to flinch and blood to smear on your skin and fill in the prints of his thumb.

He looked you in the eyes, deciphering your absolutely terrified expression. No words came to mind as he finally, finally, got a good look at you. At your hair. The details of your face and the way your cheeks looked a bit too red for an October night. The way you sat rigid against the concrete sidewalk, unsure of The Crow’s next movements. You were splayed in an uncomfortable position on the ground and Eric, who’s hands still held your chin, swiped his thumb over your skin. The man was trapped in a trance of absolute fascination and he wasn’t sure how to get out of it.

“Eric!” Sarah got him out of the trance herself as she yelled his name and crashed into him, almost toppling himself onto you as the child squeezed him into a hug. “Thank god!!”

The position Eric was knocked into was less than ideal for a friendly (kinda), public situation.

You were knocked further down onto the concrete, resting down on your elbows. And Eric was knocked forward, resting a hand on the concrete beside your rib cage, almost trapping you in between the sidewalk and himself. He could feel his own face grow hot as you two stared at each other with wide eyes. He then saw the expression change from fear, to surprise, and then confusion.

“Eric?” You questioned, looking from The Crow to the child squeezing herself into Eric’s side.

“It’s Eric!” Sarah told you like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Can’t you tell?!”

Upon your close proximity, you got a real good look at The Crow. His curly hair that seemed to always fall over his face, his prominent nose, high cheekbones, and his dark eyes that always seemed to swirl with some emotion. All features of Eric and suddenly you recognized the vigilante who hovered above you.

“Eric?” You started, uncertain. “You’re The Crow?”

Eric hung his head, almost ashamed that he didn’t tell you sooner. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he then looked back up at you. “I did it to keep you safe, I promise. I never know who’s after me in this city, especially at night. I don’t need anyone to use you as a weakness over me. I don’t need you hurt because of me.” He continued to ramble on. “I understand if you don’t like me anymore or if we can’t hang out or if you feel betrayed by me. I-“

“Eric,” You cut him off. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Really?” Eric’s eyes shone as he looked at you, strands of hair falling over his ghostly white face.

“Yes, I do,” You nodded. “Now can you get off of me? This concrete is really uncomfortable and i’d really like to be out of here before that guy wakes up. And I’m still bleeding. Like I’m sure I’m halfway to bleeding out right here on the sidewalk.”

Eric panicked at your last sentence, completely forgetting it was a joke, “Oh my god. Yes! Yes! Why didn’t you say so sooner?!”

Once him and Sarah were up and on their feet, Eric practically picked you up from the ground yourself. He began ushering all three of you in the direction of your apartment.

Sarah snuck her way in between you two, staring up at you guys with a smug smile.

“I can’t believe you finally admit she’s like totally your weakness, Eric,” Sarah elbowed the man in the side.

She then turned to you, “Did you hear that? You’re his weakness! You can totally like use that to get whatever you want!”

“Oh really?” You looked down at Sarah. “And what would you know about that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Sarah trailed off, clasping her hands together and swinging her arms around, blinking up at you from behind her eyelashes.

You made a noise and rolled your eyes, shoving the kid to the side softly.

Eric watched you two as you both bickered all the way to your apartment. He was possibly the happiest man alive right now.

———

A/N: I hope you liked, Anon. And if anyone wants more Eric fics or has an idea/concept you’d like to see my askbox is open!!

[fawnpires]

may i ask for a arthur morgan x hyperfem reader?

୨୧ — arthur would definitely love himself a hyperfem sweetheart, frills and petticoats and all.

CONTENTS -> hyperfem! + ditsy reader, older!arthur, brief mentions of an age gap relationship, lil’ bit naughty at the end but nothing serious.

you’ve always been heavier on your girlish charms, it’s been a signature staple of yours for as long as you could remember. despite the industrial, lacking-in-color, gloomy america; you were definitely the type to stick out like a sore thumb— a somewhat high society lady in a way. fashionable sore thumb. it’s not your fault you were born into such a cesspool.

ribbons in your hair and lacy, silkened dresses hugging your body wasn’t exactly the norm, at least, not when you were with him.

maybe it was because you were still at the stage of being an explorative young lady, or that naviety that’s always been branded onto your name, but you were almost— quite literally— positive that he had stolen your heart, the one that you’ve seen on wanted posters hung up on the bulletin and power wires, that man. got yourself tangled up with someone on the run, an outlaw with a reputation of a rumored depravity and ruthless violence.

he’s the exact type of man your mother would send herself on a frenzy about, the type your father would have no hesitations sending a bullet straight through the temple of his sun-kissed forehead. how strange you would expect to find yourself right on the opposite side of the warnings you’ve been given throughout your oh-so sheltered life.

but being the girl that you were, you were never one to listen. weren’t into all that abide-by-the-rules bullshit, fit right into being a proper first-class lady.

maybe that’s how you found yourself on the bad man’s lap. arthur’s lap. the prettiest— and the best damn score— that the guy’s ever won for the van der linde gang. you were the definition of a perfect doll to arthur, had a huge heart to match with the looks too. couldn’t ever resist your smothering kisses around his scar-faded face.

“y’know sweetheart, it’s still a wonder as to how i’ve got you all to myself in the first place…” he says with a throaty chuckle, using a hand to smooth out the ruffles of your skirt, “girls your age ain’t really into folk like me.”

you can only roll your eyes, pop your glossy, rosy lower lip in a pout, and think of his words as ridiculous before so confidently responding with, “oh, please. i’m the happiest a girl’s ever been, arthur.”

and he wasn’t going to lie about this, but all this constant, undying affection you had for him? an immediate swell going straight to his ego. nothing like some youthful thing’s obsession to make him feel at least twenty years younger. he’s getting older, after all— so, it was essentially just a waste not to spend those years with someone worth putting all the effort on.

although this didn’t technically make your relationship that much morally correct, by society’s standards at least.

what would a violent, older criminal on the run want with some rich family’s youngest daughter aside from the money?

they don’t get it and they probably never will, they’re not you or arthur, they know nothing about the either of you— because there was no logical explanation to that statement when he’s kissing so fervently at your lips, at your skin with a certain kind of authentic tenderness you’d only see in the motion pictures. even taught himself the silliest practice of braiding hair and tying ribbons for you. that’s what arthur wanted with you.

with him, you felt wanted. the very apple of his eye.

his usually such coarse hands were so gentle with you, molding into your supple flesh, leaving traces of him along the surface. especially visible when when the both of you are out for the night, cooped up in some small town’s saloon, his forearm enclosed around your waist and having you pulled to his side—hand absent-mindedly running up and down your torso decorated of the finest lace.

you guessed you weren’t exactly a common sight around these parts when more than enough of the saloon’s patrons started eyeing you up from across the room, albeit not daring to wander one inch closer; not if they had wanted to stumble right out of there with a broken nose bridge and a couple of teeth knocked loose.

that didn’t really stop arthur, though. something about another man, didn’t matter who the company was, bad intentions or not— he’d still meet them out back, returning to where he left you at the bar with velvet, torn-up knuckles after what felt like hours. what could he say? he just didn’t like when you were being viewed through the lenses of some obvious pervert. next thing you know, you’re being taken by the hand, arthur thankfully getting you out of that slum and helping you onto his steed, back pressed against his sturdy front.

it was near midnight at this point, and you could tell by the tranquil atmosphere settling in, fewer folks out on the trails at this time, the stars blooming across the dark canvas of the sky in glistening rows. peaceful— much rather preferred than sitting in a saloon, acting as eye-candy for those grimy outlaws.

“little brutual, dont’cha think? you finally ask in a tease, tilting your head back, gazing up at his aging face with those doe eyes of yours. made you look all the more angelic from this angle, especially with the way your smaller fingers are running over his split, blood-crusted knuckles aimlessly.

he takes his focus off of the trail for a short moment, a smug smirk pulling at his lips before looking away once more.

“who d’you take me for, darling?” he questions, that same teasing manner hidden in your voice now residing in his own, “i’m not just going to let some depraved bastards eye my girl up and down, makin’ me sick…”

you snicker under your breath. “that just makes me think i’m too pretty for my own good, huh?”

“oh yes, too pretty indeed,” arthur moves his free hand over your leg, palm starting from the outside of your frilled skirts before miraculously sliding, finding its way under the decorated layers. makes your lower stomach churn with that familiar warmth, your heart rate on a high. the things this man does so easily to you was nothing short of impressive.

“you’re gettin’ touchy…” that’s all you can bring yourself to bashfully mumble out, bottom lip being bit down on amid the pout you persisted on with.

you already feel so weak at the knees, so wound up with the simplest of touches.

“i know, baby,” he whispers to you now, a wolfish grin weakly coming to form on his lips. his hand doesn’t dare to move further from its place resting on top of you thigh, like he knew it was complete and utter torture to not indulge in exactly what you wanted right there and then. greedy bastard. “i’ll tell you what, i’ll get us a room for the night, get you outta these clothes, and you ain’t gotta worry about carryin’ all these fancy layers around. how ‘bout that?”

his words were considerate albeit evidently suggestive, how sweet. but arthur was just like that, he did that to you— a natural-born sweet talker who just happened to fall into a more illicit line of work.

with the way he was pressed up against you now, hand practically embedding itself at the soft flesh of your thigh, and a nearby inn coming into view, it was all the more apparent what your would response to be. hell, it might’ve well just been perceived by the look on your flushed face frames beneath the moon’s glaring beams.

leaning back, you’ve got some subdued, mischievous glint in your pretty eyes, and a tone in your voice that compliments with the energy he’s got exuding—

“you’ve got yourself a deal, mister morgan.”

[hockeyboysimagines]

Work wife

A Vince Dunn blurb for @cellythefloshie. This is not in any way related to Fuck me like I’m famous. This is just a fun blurb we talked about brought to life.

Warnings: Sex, cheating

“There’s my work wife.”

You half turned to find Vince coming down the hallway smiling at you.

Working for the Kraken was a dream come true really.

You couldn’t actually ask for a better job, or better environment to be in. It was a tight knit group full of great people who worked hard, and got along well.

And then there was Vince.

You two had clicked from the beginning. He was easy to talk to, and you liked him a lot. The more time you spent together, the more you got to know him and the more comfortable you became with him.

Maybe too comfortable.

Which is how you wound up screaming his name one night after drinks, after the flirtation between you guys had finally boiled over and spilled into his apartment. It had been extremely awkward when you saw him on Monday, but when he caught you in the parking garage and asked to talk, you’d agreed. And that’s how it all started. Secret meetups, sneaking around, and even texts from a fake phone number, your assistant “Jessica”, to keep things under wraps. It felt both wrong, and exciting, but you just couldn’t stop. While it had started as a secret hookup, it hadn’t stayed that way. There was genuine feelings there now.

The term “work wife” had started as a joke, thrown out by a coworker of yours, who obviously had no clue what was happening behind closed doors, but it stuck. There was really only one problem with it.

You were someone’s real life wife.

The idea of Vince made your husband clearly uncomfortable in the beginning, before anything was actually going on, but there wasn’t really anything you could do about it, and you didn’t really want to either. Your husband was a good guy, but being around Vince made you realize you really didn’t have a thing in common. He was 8 years older than you, and you had married young, feeling the pressure from your family to marry someone who was financially stable. You “loved” him, but you weren’t really “In love” with him, at least not anymore. Not that you were in love with Vince either, but your feelings for him had drowned out the feelings for your husband. And beyond that, you had suspicions that he was embroiled in his own case of infidelity.

You felt really bad at first, but then he started staying late, random business trips with no warning, and you’d even found a receipt for purchased jewelry that you hadn’t received just last month. He often smelled of perfume and the lipstick you’d found on the inside of one of his shirts was a color you’d never worn. You hadn’t confronted him because you just didn’t care, and truly you had no room to talk.

It was a rock and a hard place situation that you’d landed yourself in, but the thrill of it all overrode the anxiety of being found out.

Not only would you lose your job, your respect in the work place, and your marriage, but it would also put a black mark on your career moving forward and make Vince look bad, none of which you wanted.

He made his way past you and winked, but then paused at the end of the hallway, just below a camera so he couldn’t be seen, and motioned for you to check your phone. You absently pulled out your phone, turning away from him so it looked like you just happened to get a message.

Meet me in the room.

“The room” as he called it was a vacant room in the basement of the arena that was used mostly for storage, and sat in the middle of a hallway that was void of cameras. It wasn’t ideal, but sometimes there was no other choice. There was few places you could go with him that he wasn’t recognized here, so you were limited to the room, his apartment and your place only if your husband was on a business trip out of state and even then it was risky.

You took the long way, careful not to rush, giving small glances here and there to make sure that no one was following you, and slipped into the hallway that your office was located, which conveniently also led the the hallway he was waiting for you in.

You made you way down the corridor, a set of stairs and then down to the vacant room. He was leaned against the wall, eyes moving up your bare legs and you neared him.

“Hi wifey.” He said smiling cheekily as he held the door open for you, allowing you to step inside before following you in. You gave a little shudder as the room grew dark when the door closed and you felt his hands on your waist.

“You look nice today.” He said in your ear, turning you to face him. Goddamnit he was gorgeous, even more up close. In curiosity you had done a google search of him right after you’d started working there and saw that everyone else thought that too, not to your surprise, but you were lucky enough to see all his body parts up close and personal and you felt bad for the people who didn’t get to.

“You say that to me everyday.” You ran a hand up his arm as he reached forward to press his lips against your neck.

“Well then I guess it’s true.” He said softly, hand gripping your chin as he pulled his mouth off your neck and caught your lips a very hot, wet kiss.

You felt a heat start to spread in your stomach as he backed you up against a table, tongue pushing in your mouth, cutting off your air. The way he moved his tongue against yours made your heart race, fingers gripping at your blouse, which was tucked into a pencil skirt, and pulling it loose so he could unbutton it, and hoisted you up to sit on the edge of the table. His hands, slightly rough against your skin as he reached the bottom button and ran his hands up your waist, pausing at your bra and pulling away from you.

“Is this new?” He asked breathlessly gesturing at your bra.

You nodded and watched as he reached a hand forward and ran a finger across your collarbone, down your chest to your sternum, hooking a finger in the front band and running it along your ribs.

“I bought it just for you. It matches these.” You gestured down and inched your skirt up to reveal black underwear. He smiled slowly eyes staying on them for a second before they moved back up to yours and he smiled.

“Can’t wait to take them off.” He reached down hooking a thumb on either side of them and gave them a tug, pulling them down your legs, hand coming back up your legs to pull one up underneath your knee, and to spread the other one wider, leaning you back as he eased himself into you.

Your head fell back, hair spilling off your shoulders as he pulled out and pushed back in. You felt a hand on the back of your neck as Vince pulled you up to kiss him, pushing in and out finding a rhythm. You caught his lip between your teeth, and he gave your hair a small tug, goosebumps erupting across your skin. It truly never got old feeling him inside you and his hands all over you. He brought you to highs you’d never been at before and each time was better than the one before.

He angled his hips upward and hit a spot you didn’t know existed and you cried out, biting down on your lip to stop from making too much noise. A curl at the front of his hair fell across his forehead as he picked up his pace. Your lower back was screaming in pain as it hit repeatedly on the table and you felt your legs begin to tighten and heat explode in your stomach as a crippling orgasm swept from your lower half to your upper half, Vince’s lips at your neck as it shuddered through your body and your vision went spotty. You gave a shaky breath as he slowed his pushes and let his head fall forward, breath hot on your neck. After a moment he picked his head up to look at you.

“You’re amazing.”

You blushed and pushed the curl off his forehead, as he helped you down and handed you your underwear. You gingerly pulled them back up, and took several deep breaths attempting to cool yourself down.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asked reaching a hand out to intertwine his fingers with yours “Come over after work for a little bit. What time does he get home?”

“6:30. I guess I could for a little bit.”

“Great.” He smiled widely and gave you one last short and sweet kiss before he left the room, making his way back to wherever he was planning to go and you made your way to your office, now tasked with spending the next three hours at your desk having to think about him, and what you would be getting into with him later on.

You sometimes wondered if keeping this thing you had going with him was for the worst rather than the better. How bad would it hurt to rip off the bandaid when it inevitably went south, or had to end due to whatever reasons. And what would happen if he met someone else?

Would you be cast aside? Replaced? A side piece?

You couldn’t handle that. And it wouldn’t be fair, which you knew because it wasn’t fair to him that he was currently a side piece. He didn’t seem bothered, or he was a great actor because he never spoke up about it when you asked and even managed to crack a joke about it here and there for your benefit. But it still wasn’t right. And it wouldn’t be right to drag this out knowing he should have the right to go out and meet girls without having to wonder what would happen with you and him.

You got so absorbed thinking about it, you lost track of time and nearly ended up staying past your clock out time, rushing to get out of the arena and over to Vince’s. He greeted you with his usual “wifey” at the door and pulled you inside.

After your second romp of the day, your breath evened out, you checked your phone and sighed. You pursed your lips and glanced at him.

He shook his head “Don’t say it-“

“Time to go.” you said quietly, sitting upright and grabbing your bra and blouse. You heard him sigh behind you and lean back against the headboard. It was quiet for a while as you hooked the clasp, and pulled the blouse over your shoulders. You hated this part. The afterglow wasn’t even over and you had to leave, go home and play housewife to someone you barely even had conversation with day to day. You’d not been intimate with each other in over a year, since you’d started working for the Kraken, because you were both getting it somewhere else. It felt silly to continue to live a lie.

“I think you should leave your husband.” Vince said off handedly from behind you.

You paused and turned slowly “What?” You said eyes moving up to meet his as you buttoned your blouse.

“You heard me.” He said from his spot on the bed “I said I want you to leave your husband.” He was looking at you straight faced, serious and not joking. He’d made lots of “leave your husband” jokes over the last few months, but he wasn’t kidding this time.

You gaped at him “I-Why?”

“Please.” He rolled his eyes “I think it’s pretty self explanatory. I mean if you really loved him would you even be here?” He gestured around.

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been going over this in your head for months, and you’d come to the conclusion that your husband just wasn’t it.

“Even if I would….Id have to quit for this to go any further.”

Vince pursed his lips “I mean. I can’t ask you to do that, but I do know that you should leave him. And I think you know that too.” He added quietly “I mean even without me in the picture, it wouldn’t be any different.”

He was right.

Part of why you took the job with the Kraken was to fill your time and pull yourself out of being a housewife and hanging out with all his business buddies perfect wives. Working with the Kraken gave you the freedom to do your own thing and be whoever you wanted to be, rather than locked up in that condo.

You nodded “Your right. But what about my job? I can’t be with you and work here.”

“Let’s worry about that another time. I can help you with this.” He reached forward and gripped your hand “I just really want you to be happy.”

You were quiet for a minute, eyes focused on the bedsheet as you realized this could be your one chance to get out of the mess you were in. Your one opportunity to truly change the direction of your life. Maybe things never went forward with Vince, but maybe they did. Even if they didn’t, he had given you the confidence to make changes and leave a guy you didn’t even love, and for that you would always be thankful.

“Well?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

You looked up and took a deep breath “Do you promise? To help me?”

He nodded eyes lighting up “Yes. So are we really doing this?” He looked so hopeful, leaned forward, eyes bright. It was actually making your heart hurt how beautiful he was at that moment.

You nodded “I think- I think so.”

He smiled the most beautiful, breath taking smile you’d ever seen on him, which you didn’t think was possible because they were all beautiful, but this one was different.

“This is going to change your life I promise you. I’m going to change your life. For the better.”

“You already have.”

He pulled you right back down, kissing you like he never had as you became a tangle mess of limbs and clothes and you felt like things would get better for the first time in a long time.

Maybe being a work wife wasn’t so bad.

[omkookie]

The second descendant [pt. ?]

You don't feel much. Just tiredness thanks to your situation. You work a shitty job that pays you minimum wage per hour. You're barely making enough to live, and working long shifts every week is draining you both mentally and physically.

You sometimes wonder if it's because your family's financial situation has always been bad, Or is it just because you didn't want to go to college or university? If you went to university would you have become something better than a minimum wage employee? Or would you be drowning in student debt?

You don't know.

You don't know anything. You don't know what you want to do, you don't know what your future might be like. You're just breathing, living day by day and being physically present while your mind is absent. Your boss and colleagues have chided you several times for spacing out, but what can you do about it? Nothing.

You don't feel like being here.

Now, Imagine you’re the great Solomon’s second living descendant– pretty much useless. You didn’t inherit any of his abilities nor pacts, you just happen to be a member of his bloodline. Now, you’re not exactly the weakest sorcerer alive, but you’re not the strongest either. The way that the demons found out you exist was by a loudmouthed angel reporting to Michael about you during an attack on hades.

So, What about life after coming to hell? Different world different situation, right?

When you somehow get into trouble involving the seraphim, you know that you're near your end. When Beelzebub comes to see you, he gives you a sympathetic look, his face clearly showing he was pitying you. "I'm tired. Leave. " You tell him, trying to ignore the stench of blood that was left in your cold apartment, along with the dead bodies of angels and a broken wall.

Curse you Solomon.

This is all your fault.

Not even Satan can look at the poor excuse of a sorcerer that you are compared to your ancestor.

At least Ra-on can somewhat use her abilities, unlike you.

The useless descendant whoose body is too weak to handle its own power.

...you regret not torturing all of those angels you just killed.

[thisismeracing]

https://www.tumblr.com/thisismeracing/751049960389328896/working-on-a-fluff-piece-with-singledad-lew-but

ok but all im thinking about when i hear this is stepdad!lewis just trying to be liked by his lover's teen daughter and it's just rough for months on end while reader and lew are as in love as can be

and daughter is kinda giving the could shoulder to both of them because how can you be in love with a man that’s not dad?? and idk who you are but you arent my dad to lew.

until the daughter's father fails to show up to something that’s important to her and lew is there to be that shoulder to cry on

and then on those two's relationships with each other start to grow in a more positive direction

☕️

ref

Omg yesssss!!!!

So, maybe this would go like this…

tw: mentions of an absent father.

“She’ll come around, it’s alright,” Lewis would whisper to you after your daughter stormed out of the kitchen and went to school without acknowledging either of you.

You had to give it to him, he was more patient than any other person would be. Hell, even if you were starting to get angry with your kid, Lewis would smile and brush it off. He did it when she ignored him the first time they officially met, he did it when she refused to go to the GP you two went public, and he kept doing it even after a few months, you were basically living together now, but she was still a stubborn fifteen-year-old, and lewis was still the patient forty-something.

So it didn't surprise you when he showed up to her football match wearing her school team’s shirt and a cap so he would call all the attention to himself. Lewis got there even before you did and that did not go unnoticed by your daughter.

Your daughter kept searching for her dad in the stands even after the first period was over. Your daughter scored the winning goal and searched for the man that promised to be there only to realize he wasn't.

Yet, Lewis was there right beside you cheering as if she was his own. Clapping and screaming her name as if she hadn’t ignored him all these months.

She felt bad. Felt guilty, and forgotten by her dad and his new family. The mixture of feelings only being turbinated by her teenage phase.

Still, when she walked to the stands crying, refusing to celebrate with her team, Lewis, the always patient one, was there to embrace her in a warm hug. One that should have been given by her dad. Lewis was the one who told her she did a great job and that the Captain Position would definitely be hers soon. He was the one who offered to train with her and watched her tears cease before she hugged you two finally recognizing how lucky she was. That was the family that was given to her, and she was going to cherish it from now on.

IM SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY 🤭🫣🫣🫣

Send me thots!

[dinoburger]

let me just get my thoughts down for a moment after a light perusal of the Mouthwashing tag -

I don't think The Point of Mouthwashing is "who is and isn't a bad person" with a backdrop of "capitalism bad"

the story is explicitly about the exploitative, hierarchical conditioning capitalism enforces, that creates situations like what unfolds in the Tulpar

I think to say "this is the fault of [this or that character]" is to miss the forest for the trees.

to view what happens as a series of random, unfortunate events that just happen coincidentally to the moral inclinations of the characters is missing the very palpable deprivation that all of them feel when it comes to how much control they have over the situation they've found themselves in.

I'll try to break this down a little more:

Curly is definitely one of the more contentious characters when it comes to morality and I think what people miss is... he has far too much control. As captain, he has the first and last say in everything.

There's no possible way he could understand exactly how to handle every situation appropriately. Nobody could. It weighs on him a lot. To the point where his fear of messing things up is exactly what blinds him to the chain of events that initiates Mouthwashing as we know it.

He tries to smooth things over. Because of course he would.

The problem is that he is set up to fail from the start.

Breaching just about any condition on the ship can get the pay of his poor subordinates docked. He has to obey the company rules to protect them, too. The omnipresent horse keeps all of them "in check". He can't afford to take a moral high-ground, because most of them can't afford it either. He's trying to keep the house of cards together.

The most telling line to me is when Anya points out the lock on the medical room door that's absent from the sleeping quarters.

The company puts more value on the expensive equipment on board than the human lives. It tries to cut as many corners as possible. It undermines their livelihoods to maintain itself - in vain, ultimately.

The cargo of mouthwash is more valuable to the company than they are.

You can see also in each of them, the kinds of people capitalism makes.

Swansea tried to fix up his life and do everything right. He tried to become a good worker for the sake of his family. But is he much better off than when he was an alcoholic? He says the best part of his life is still when the only troubles he had was the bottom of an empty bottle - nevermind his family, his sobriety and becoming a "correct" person in capitalist society.

His existential crisis grips me because it does raise questions about if living the way you're "supposed to" is worth it.

Daisuke wants to prove his worth in his capabilities. Daisuke is still trying to prove himself as valuable to the system, even at his own expense. Swansea laments this, because he just knows there's no point where you become valuable or worthy enough in the system.

Anya, as the only woman on board, takes the blunt of the lack of autonomy enforced by the system.

Jim... Jim is exactly the kind of person this system breeds, too. He's entitled. He's hungry for more power, but he can only see it by wrestling it off his coworkers and enacting interpersonal violence. He sees himself as a temporary victim of circumstance, who has a right to the power Curly has.

He is the exact sort of person who might have been a captain on some of the other cargo ships. Can you imagine if he'd had that much power from the start? The company doesn't give a shit, so long as the cargo gets there in one piece. The toll of the psychological trauma taken on the staff will never outweigh the value of the goods being shipped.

Even if it's just mouthwash.

I think you could maybe also read Jim's affinity for the cartoon horse as a metaphor for his hunger for power, too. It's something he both desires and dreads. He wants to have his cake and eat it too, he doesn't want the consequences that follow. It's the carrot and stick. He'll take as much power as he can before the axe finally drops and he has to face the music, even if it means making everything so, so much worse in the process.

[vodika-vibes]

Okay, silly ask and you can decline if you don’t do the pregnancy stuff! But I was thinking a Crosshair x reader where they were an item pre-O66, and then the Kaller and brainwashing happened and they went separate ways because, ya know, chip went: “yo kill your brothers those hoes ain’t loyal.” While they’re separated, reader finds out she’s pregnant, and Crosshair only finds out when he lures the rest of the batch back to Kamino and they’re in that training room.

(Bonus if the rest of the batch only found out semi-recently too because reader’s mentality was “okay, I’m pregnant, no biggie. I’ll tell them later when it actually becomes an issue” and Tech figured it out right away but never said anything either)

That's What Family Does

Summary: Being pregnant sucks. Being pregnant with the baby of a man who’s actively hunting the people keeping you safe is worse. The fact that you still love him is just the icing on the “bad year” cake. Still, you probably should have listened to Hunter when he told you to stay on the Marauder rather than risk Crosshair seeing you. Ah well, you’ve never been the best at listening.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1771

Warnings: Pregnancy and Childbirth, and complicated relationships

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: So, I know next to nothing about childbirth, on account that I'm both childfree and infertile, so it's never been something that I had to worry about. So I did almost no research on this topic. Also, I've still never watched TBB, so I played around with...everything. But this has also been half-written for the better part of two weeks, and I just needed inspiration to strike me. Anyway, I hope you like it!

“You just had to come with us, didn’t you?” Hunter hisses as he shoves you behind Wrecker, “Why don’t you ever listen?”

“Because you’re not my mother,” You hiss right back at him, as you grab the over-large shirt that Echo’s been trying to shove over your head for the last five minutes and pull it on. It does…very little to hide your stomach. But then, the boys, and Omega, have only recently found out about your pregnancy. And only because you finally started showing and couldn’t hide it anymore.

Needless to say, Hunter and Echo weren’t thrilled about the sudden surprise. Wrecker was torn between excitement and dismay. And Omega…well, she’s been bubbling with excitement since she found out.

“Great, now we have to keep anyone from finding out that you are 8 months pregnant with a clone baby.” Hunter grouses, “Omega, stay with her.”

Omega nods rapidly, and wraps her arms around you, “I’ll bite anyone who tries to touch her.”

Absently, you pet Omega’s head and glare at Hunter, “Well, if you don’t say the words ‘clone’ and ‘baby’ next to each other, no one will ever know.”

“Yes, because your relationship with Crosshair was the best-kept secret on Kamino,” Hunter replies, deadpan, “there’s absolutely no way that anyone will ever figure out that you're pregnant with his baby.”

“Okay, tone down the sass, Mister. It’s not helping.”

Hunter grabs your shoulders, “You irk me. You’re irksome.”

“Hey! I’m pregnant, you can’t talk to me like that!”

For a moment, you think Hunter is going to shake you, but he stops when Tech taps his back, “He is here.”

Abruptly, you’re shoved back behind Wrecker and Echo, nearly tripping over Omega who’s still wrapped around you, and you only manage to catch a glimpse of Crosshair. 

His face is pinched and angry-looking, and you see his hand twitching towards his blaster.

Oh, you really hope that this doesn’t turn into a firefight. You don’t want to have to explain to your baby how they don’t have a dad because he got himself killed.

That would be awkward.

The nice thing is you’ve sped through all five stages of grief, and have just accepted that Crosshair isn’t the man you thought he was. And here you thought you were going to need, like, so much therapy to come to terms with it.

“Hunter.” Crosshair’s voice is cold. Colder than you’ve ever heard before. 

“Cross,” Hunter sounds tense, and you feel a pang of guilt. He wouldn’t be half as stressed if you and Omega just stayed on the ship. If you get out of this alive, and, you know, not a prisoner of the Empire, you should make him some apology cookies.

There’s a tense silence and Wrecker adjusts his weight slightly. You can tell by his body language, Echo’s too, that if this turns violent, the pair of them will remove you and Omega from the scene. Then again, that does tend to be their job most of the time.

“I assume you’re here to surrender.” Crosshair says. You know him better than anyone, you can tell he doesn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. 

Hesitantly, you peek around Wrecker and Crosshair sees you immediately. His sharp gaze lingers on you for a moment, and you see something like regret flicker across his face, though it vanishes as soon as Echo shoves you back behind Wrecker. 

“You have to leave the doctor behind,” Crosshair says flatly.

“No,” Tech says immediately.

“She belongs to the Empire.”

“Technically, my contract is with the Republ—” You counter, indignently.

“Stop talking!” Hunter, Tech, and Echo say in unison and you close your mouth without finishing your thought.

Hunter glances at you, and then at Crosshair, “She’s not a slave, Crosshair. She can come and go as she pleases.”

You can hear the argument continuing in the background, but you’re not really listening anymore.

Something doesn’t feel right.

And then you’re slammed with a cramp so intense that your legs nearly buckle. Your hand lands heavily on Omega’s shoulder and you exhale sharply. “Are you okay?” The little girl whispers, doing her best to not draw too much attention to herself…or you.

“We need to get back to the Marauder.” You say though clenched teeth.

“That’s the plan, but—”

“Meg.” You interrupt her, “I’m pretty sure I’ve just gone into labor.” You keep your voice very, very calm, not wanting to scare her, but she stares at you with wide eyes.

“WHAT!?” The men stop arguing at Omega’s panicked shout and turn towards her. “You…you can’t! It’s too early! You’re only 8 months!” Omega continues, her voice pitching high in her panic.

You don’t answer her. Can’t answer her, really, because you’re too busy trying to breathe through the waves of pain that kind of make you want to cry, scream, and throw up all at the same time.

You’re pretty sure you’d sell all of the clones on Kamino for some pain medicine.

You’re also pretty sure that that’s the pain talking and you’ll feel bad for having that thought as soon as you’re no longer in labor.

The waves of pain fade enough for you to recognize that your boys are in the middle of panicking around you. Panicking and not helping you.

Great.

Lovely.

Super.

You reach out and grab Wrecker’s forearm, “I need to get to a bed, preferably on the Marauder, because if I have to give birth in a training room, I’m going to murder all of you.” You say through gritted teeth.

And then Crosshair is there, his gaze lingering on your stomach, and if you were feeling even remotely charitable you’d say that he looks guilty and hurt.

But, you’re in so much pain right now that you really couldn’t care less.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” He asks.

You grab him by the collar of his armor, “I am in the process of pushing a watermelon out a hole the size of a lemon. And it’s all your fault.” You snap, “I need to get to the Marauder.”

“...you know it takes two people to make a baby, kitten—”

The string of curses that fall from your lips after his comment, is enough that the boys push themselves into high gear and then rush you back to the ship. 

24 hours of hard labor later, your babies are finally here.

And you finally know why you went into labor early.

Turns out you were pregnant with twins. Twin girls, to be specific.

Right now they’re sleeping in a cradle that Echo stole from Kamino, wrapped in a black and a red blanket specifically.

So far, Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, Tech, and Omega have come to meet the babies. But no Crosshair, though you know he’s still on the ship.

Hunter said that Crosshair refused to leave while you were still in labor. And now that they’re born, he wants to raise them with you.

It’s a nice thought, you suppose. Aside from the whole “wanting to kill his brothers” thing.

Plus, he still hasn’t come to meet the babies.

You tilt your head to the side as one of the babies yawns widely and then falls back to sleep. You hear the door slide open and then shut again. When you look up, you see Crosshair standing, awkwardly, at the door.

He’s dressed in his blacks and isn’t armed.

Hunter probably told him no weapons in the medbay. He’s a good brother-in-law, you’re lucky to have him.

“They’re cute.” Crosshair says as he walks over to the babies and peers down at them.

“They look like wrinkly potatoes.” You correct.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that?”

“I just spent 24 hours pushing them out of my vagina. If I want to call them potatoes, then I’m going to call them potatoes.”

“Ah,” He’s quiet for a moment, “Are you…okay? There was a lot of blood, Tech said.”

“Yeah, well…he had a bunch of my blood stored up for this scenario. Just in case.” You admit with a shrug, “I’ll recover. I’m going to be weak for a while though.”

“What are you naming them?”

“...I dunno. I was only expecting one baby, not two.” You pull your blanket up higher, “You’re such an overachiever.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Whatever. I’m too tired to be properly angry.” You pause, “We are going to have to talk, Crosshair.”

He rubs the back of his head, “Yeah. I know.”

“You walked away.”

“I know.”

“And it was easy for you to do. How could it be so easy for you to walk away?”

He sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you have even come with us if I didn’t go into labor?” You ask.

Crosshair shakes his head, “I don’t know.” He pauses, “You’re mad.”

“I think I have good cause to be mad, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “A condition of me staying with you and the twins is getting the chip out. And no weapons until they’re sure that I’m not going to try to hurt anyone.”

“Let me guess…Hunter?”

Crosshair nods, “He’s very…protective.”

“He always has been. But Hunter was the one who let me cry on his shoulder when you walked away. He might be a bit angrier at you than anyone else.”

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You shrug, “Well, you did.”

The pair of you fall into a, slightly, awkward silence, and then you sigh, “Luna.”

“Sorry?”

“The twin with the silver hair, I’m going to call her Luna, I think.” Crosshair blinks at you, and then glances at the babies, finally noticing that one of the babies has his coloring, while the other one has yours.

“And what about her sister?”

“Don’t you want to name one?”

He looks momentarily surprised, and then he glances at the baby who looks like you, “Willow. I want to name her Willow.”

You tilt your head curiously.

Crosshair doesn’t acknowledge your silent question for a moment, and then a small smile lifts the corner of his lips, “The first date we went on was a picnic under a willow tree.”

“...I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“It’s important.”

You watch him for a moment, and then laugh softly, “Alright. Luna and Willow, then.” You allow your gaze to linger on Crosshair as he looks over the twins, and your smile widens.

The both of you aren’t okay. There are a lot of wrongs that need to be righted. But…well, he’s here. And you can’t help but think that that’s a step in the right direction.

[cripplepunkbarbarian]

The Bad Kids as lyrics from Apple by CharliXCX. Btw. If you even care…

(explanations for choices beneath the read more)

Riz: Was originally torn between swapping his and Gorgugs. Decided this was more appropriate. Specifically referencing the fact that he’s been stated to be a practically perfect combination of both his parents features as well as the fact that he’s maintained an incredibly close bond with and idolization of both his parents since he was young. “I split the apple down symmetrical lines” also fits for that but since Riz is quite proud of becoming like his parents (whereas his parents are the ones who fear him becoming like them), I decided this set of lyrics fit better.

Fabian: In my mind, the most notable aspect of Fabian’s dynamic with his parents has been his attempts to appeal to them by sculpting his identity to match what he thinks they, especially Bill, want him to be and grappling with his true personality and desires not being what they would be “the most proud of”. Then despite Bills acceptance he is still absent and despite Hallariel’s attempts to be more present she still insists on him being more like Bill. So ultimately he struggles to feel understood by them.

Fig: This specific set of lyrics matching Fig is what prompted me to assign lyrics to the rest of TBK because of how well it fits. “I guess the apple could turn yellow or green” made me think of how different her relationships to her parents could have turned out to be if the infernal side of her hadn’t presented in the way it did, if she had continued living as an elf. But ultimately things shook out the way they did and a lot of Figs dynamics with all 3 of her parents revolve around how complicated the reality of her birth and Sandra Lynn in general is.

Kristen: “I wanna grow the apple, keep all the seeds” applies to her struggle to stay involved in her little brothers lives despite her parents beliefs straining their relationships. To me. Also “But I can’t help but get so angry. You don’t listen, I leave to the airport” being her fall out with her parents in Freshman Year where she tried so desperately to get them to open up and see her side of things but everyone got so worked up/defensive that she was practically kicked out and stormed out.

Adaine: This one feels the most obvious. The Abernant parents were horrible, setting Aelwyn up to act horribly as well in an attempt to appease them, and while we don’t know the rest of their family tree I struggle to see much healthy potential. Adaine and Aelwyn both luckily have loving adults and friends in their lives now but both are still grappling with the effects of their upbringings. Generational trauma realness.

Gorgug: Like I mentioned in the Riz explanation, I almost had them swapped! But ultimately I decided for Gorgug that the lyrics fit better as an allusion to his adopted gnome-bio half orc “natural” barbarian-“learned” artificer identity struggle. While Riz is shown to be (comparatively) fairly comfortable and confident following in the footsteps of his parents, Gorgug really struggles to feel “at home” in either of his parents “legacies”. Being told by others that he’s not brutal enough to be a great barbarian but not smart enough to be a great artificer. Not physically small enough to fit in with his adopted family but not big enough personality wise to fit in with his bio family.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XII. “exceptionally qualified, equally eager”

parts: previous / next

plot: you receive both celebratory and sobering news which leaves you reeling; back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne solidifies his entrance into society.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, bad health news, cancer, chemo, grief, doctor’s office, shock

words: 2.5k

You woke up the next morning remembering the conversation with your friends, replaying in your mind. You kept thinking about how you told them you'd fucked Bruce. You wished you hadn't. It was wrong. But you were never gonna see him again, and they were never going to tell. It would be too embarrassing for them that they weren't the ones to fuck him, and would never let themselves be outdone. They'd let the world continue to believe he was a virgin before admitting you'd managed to sleep with a billionaire. Outshining them wasn't a possibility.

You swung your legs off the bed and rubbed your eyes before walking out into the hallway. It was suspiciously quiet, with the usual hum of the TV absent. You started when you turned into the kitchen to your parents holding a gift. It was a thick envelope with your name in sloping cursive, and your parents had hardly looked happier... besides when the anonymous benefactor, likely Bruce (you cringed hard at his name) has somehow managed to pay off the family's medical debt. "Here honey," your mother hurried toward you and you took the envelope. Walter ran in between your dad's legs and hopped up on the bed. You laughed and started opening it. "Even he seems excited."

Your fingers nearly cut on the thick cardstock. You pulled out a card in the shape of a graduation hat, and out fell a small slip. It twirled down and made Walter pounce, and you had a game of cat and mouse for a minute before you read the stub. Delta Airlines: SEA—GCA. You looked up but they just urged you to read the card. "Congratulations Y/N! Excited to see you walk at graduation. Love, Mom and Dad." What?? I get to walk? But how?

The next fifteen minutes indulged them explaining that they'd bought tickets last night and went to the store on the way home from their friend's barbecue. "After all the money we saved we could finally afford it. And your father picked out a beautiful hotel for us right next to the airport." The rush of positive feelings left as quickly as they came, lasting not a second longer than your parents shutting the door on their way out. A murkiness settled in your stomach. You didn't plan on ever returning to Gotham. Your parents had never been there either. You hoped you'd never have to deal with its hustle and bustle again. But you were their only child, and you were at least happy that they were happy.

Bruce sat in his wool overcoat in a small, stuffy office on a hard, narrow chair. His thighs were threatening to burst it, and the arms were cutting into his abdomen. He forced a smile to the school secretary as he waited for the university president to arrive. His eyes trailed to the cobwebs in the corner, the dusty books by the window, and eventually the stained carpeting. Our tax dollars pay for this? Alfred needs to know about this so he can get in touch with—no. He stopped himself. Those were his duties now, gone were the days of offloading all public contact to his butler while he kept to his sanctuary. Thankfully, GU's president burst through the doors at that very moment.

"Mr. Wayne! My God! Never in a million years did I think to see you in these halls." The woman was beaming, and Bruce stood up to shake her hand. Even her vigor didn't help the smile he plastered on be any less forced. "Pleasure is all mine, Ms...?"

"Janay Vry, former journalism department head." Her gray bob brushed along the tips of her shoulders. A thought sprinted across his mind. Journalism. Y/N. To bring it up or to not? "I heard you met with one of my students, Ms. Y/L/N."

She beat him to it. "Yes, I apologize. I was unreasonably busy that day. I hope she found another suitor." Y/L/N. Y/L/N. Didn’t quite fit you. It repeated in his mind like a mantra, and reminded him of combing through the commencement… She opened her mouth to speak, and his eyes snagged on an owl pin on her lapel. He'd never seen that before, and it stalled his train of thought.

"So, Mr. Wayne." Ms. Vry sat in the secretary's chair as she shuffled out, looking a bit nervous. He forced his face to remain pleasant as his mind began to investigate. Why was he drawn to that? What energy was it bringing? Did it symbolize anything? "What brings you here today?"

He sat up a bit in his chair, feeling the early stages of bruising as the wood tore at his sides. The right arm was snagging on a particularly thick scar. "Well," He never thought he would say these words, but he needed a platform. An entrance. "I know how late minute this is, so I understand if this is no possibility. I was wondering if I could be a commencement speaker for this year's ceremony." The shaky grin he mustered made him want to slam into a wall. This is so forced. Can she tell?

Ms. Vry had a visible, startled reaction to his question. "Mr. Wayne, wow," she shook her head in disbelief. "Of course, of course." Her smile could've reached her ears, and she started listing off the date, time, and gathering space for the speakers to arrive at prior to the event. "And of course we will amp up security. Yes, I'll get started on that this evening."

Bruce left the halls of GCU with a few pamphlets and a worn jaw. Smiling shouldn't hurt that much. He wondered how long he could keep this act up, and if this was all one big mistake he'd have to forever run away from. It felt like it, as his disheveled self jogged down the concrete steps to a fishbowl of citizens shouting and taking photos. Of course they found me. Christ.

He stared forward at the car, pretending no one was there. He needed this event as a more natural entrance into society. Announcing the Wayne's direct involvement in the city once again. He could imagine the headlines now and imagined how proud his parents might be of him. That was all that mattered. Continuing the Wayne legacy. Doing what my parents never could. He was doing the right thing, and he was utilizing the tools at his disposal. There were areas of society Bruce Wayne could reach that Batman could never, and vice versa. Why didn't I consider this sooner? As he sidled into the driver's seat and relaxed into the tinted windows, he remembered why. He loathed being on display.

The next few days you spent spending time with your family and journaling about losing your entire friend group. It hurt you, more than you even wanted to admit to yourself. Sure, they weren't very good friends, but it was scary staring down the barrel at your only social contacts being your parents. You scrolled around on Bumble for a few hours every day until you ended up hitting a week of being home and days of the most boring conversations you'd ever endured. Your dad had ordered another celebratory pizza, but it felt less fun to not have anyone to text about it.

You still didn't have many answers about your mother's cancer. Later that day was her second chemo appointment since you'd come back, and you offered to drive your mother and take her in yourself. Your dad declined, and said the three of you could all go as a family. It was nice he wanted to stay with her, but it also meant this was more serious. He likely wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. You tried not to think about why.

Pulling up to the clinic, you told your dad to head into the room with your mom. "I'm gonna talk to the doctor for a minute." You went to the receptionist and requested Dr. Righan. The receptionist directed you to a room just down the hall. "He'll meet you in consultation."

You waited anxiously to hear how bad it was while simultaneously indulging your last moments of ignorance. Her weight loss is unrelated. Her walker and wheelchair use is unrelated. Just aging stuff. Maybe she has a bad back like grandma. Yeah, that's it. She's just doing another round of chemo for good measure.

You blinked and it was over. As you came back into your body you saw the door swinging shut behind the doctor who had just come in and delivered the news: it was worse than you thought. Your mother was starting chemo to try and buy her some time before seeing if she got accepted into this clinical trial. "Your mother is exceptionally qualified, and equally eager," the graying man in the white coat had said. "Unfortunately, everyone else is too."

The drive home had you in a haze. Your parents were in the front seats still gushing over how they didn't have to pay at the end of the session, but you couldn't pay attention. The clinical trial roulette was a month from today; in the world's most desperate game of Bingo, random names would be drawn. Half would be assigned a control, half would be assigned the medicine. You couldn't bear the thought of her getting a placebo, but you couldn't bear the thought of her not getting in at all. The doctor had tried to taper her excitement, letting her know most people were not going to be picked. It stung, and left you in a haze for the rest of the night.

At about nine in the evening your dad went for a quick stop at the grocery store. He peeked his head in your room where you sat at your desk, furiously journaling, and asked if you wanted anything. Saying no, he left with an announcement he wouldn't be more than 15 minutes. Finally alone in the house with your mother practically since her initial diagnosis, you wandered to the living room where she sat in a large rocking chair, tucked into an enormous throw blanket. She smiled when you sunk into the couch beside her. "Are you excited to go to graduation?"

No. I'm not excited about anything. I want you to not be sick. "Yeah! It's really exciting, it'll be fun to be back." Your smile was fake as plastic. What if this was the last family trip? The last time on an airplane together? You wanted to go to Fiji, with the white sand and warm water for her to sink into. Paradise, not Gotham. She was genuinely excited however. "Oh I can't wait for you to walk across that stage. Your father is going to cry buckets. Buckets!"

That night you sat at your desk and scribbled more in your journal, now on your twentieth page. Why does she have to be sick. Why does it have to be so bad? Why do I have to go back to Gotham? Gotham. Bruce. I hope he doesn't find me. Maybe he will. He seems to get out more now, more likelihood to see him... ugh. Not the time. And the money thing. How do I bring that up? I don't even know if it was him. Maybe it was Alfred. I don't know. Ugh. How am I even gonna walk in my heels? I don't really want to wear sneakers. Maybe I should? Maybe I should just be myself, and stop trying to fit in? Who cares what I wear to my own graduation? Shouldn't I only care about my own opinion? My head is swirling. Graduation is so soon. You decided to stop writing, since it was getting nowhere. Just jotting down the myriad of thoughts clanking around your skull, and it was keeping you up. The next few days were job hunting, and you needed to look adequately rested... even if it was the last thing you were truly feeling.

No. No. And more no. Every business within a thirty mile radius hadn't even accepted a resume. It hadn't been this way before you left for Gotham a few years back. Your parents were all happy little birds back at home, basking in the glory of having their medical debt paid. "You don't have to worry about getting a job right now hun," your dad had said a few days prior. "Let yourself relax." But you couldn't. Having the money burden gone was a massive relief, sure, but it was a material thing, and you were grappling with potentially having to lose someone. A parent. A mother. There was hardly space for rejoicing.

The morning of graduation you'd forgotten all about it, being woken at four in the morning to head to the airport. The time difference, shit. Your mother's friend from church was dropping you all off, babbling on and on about the local gossip. "And oh my stars, you just wouldn't believe the old Scott girl. Baby number two. With TWO fathers!" You attempted to drown her out via some self-soothing humming, which only drew the attention to you. "And you missy! Why, you're not twenty-six without a ring on your finger! Meet anyone in..." she paused and visibly shuddered, spitting out the word Gotham to finish her pestering. You suppressed an eyeroll. Gotham would eat her alive.

You successfully dodged succeeding questions and found yourself at arrivals. Your parents had a fast-pass through TSA, making boarding surprisingly pleasant. You sat between your mom and dad, trying not to think about landing in a city you thought you'd left far behind.

"Good afternoon passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We are pulling into the terminal in approximately three minutes, so please prepare for landing. Weather is partly-cloudy, with a high of sixty degrees. It is 3pm local time. Thank you for flying with Delta Airlines." Your dad awoke with a strong snore, your mom rustling in her light sleep. "Oh my, already?" She yawned, rolling up her knit blanket into her carry on. "Honey, do they have the wheelchair ready?"

Wheelchair? You still weren't used to it. Wheelchairs aren't bad, you reminded. They're accessible. They help. It doesn't mean she's gonna drop dead tomorrow. Soon enough your dad was helping her into a cab while you wrestled with her chair and the luggage in the backseat of the accessible Uber. The smell stung your nostrils, the familiar taste of copper. The streets were mostly dry, as dry as they could ever get in the city. As you climbed into the passenger seat you briefly thought of the taut leather binding trimming Bruce's car's interior. Stop it. He doesn't exist.

[bestworstcase]

the perennial Tai Discourse is really interesting to track bc, speaking broadly, the two major camps are just:

those who focus primarily on ruby’s recollection of her childhood and relationship with her dad (and filter what yang says through that lens such that “i had to pick up the pieces and keep things together when i was five” gets diluted into “yang had responsibilities as a child”)

those who focus primarily on yang’s memories and her arc in v4 (and tend to just ignore or minimize the things ruby says that suggest a positive relationship with tai, in particular often just flat out disregarding how excited ruby is to spend time with or receive care packages from him)

when it’s like. yeah that’s. literally the point. that ruby and yang had profoundly different childhoods.

they’re half-sisters in a story about fairytales and only one of them had a decent dad. rwby is unsubtly interrogating the fairytale archetype of the Evil Stepmother/Dead Mother with raven (not dead, but absent) and summer (villain, presumed dead) and that archetype quite literally requires its counterpart archetype of the Neglectful Father who remarries and tacitly participates in the Evil Stepmother’s abuse of his child from his first wife

tai is as much an exploration of the fairytale Neglectful Father as raven is the Dead Mom and summer is the Evil Stepmother. that’s. a core aspect of the narrative surrounding the rose xiao long family.

the Dead Mom often reincarnates as a bird or tree or similar spirit to watch over her child; rwby turns this on its head by reimagining the Dead Mom as an absent one. raven watches over yang in her bird form because she is too afraid to be meaningfully present; she isn’t dead, but her absence in yang’s life is so complete that she might as well have been, and the fairytale tension between the Dead Mom’s death and her lingering presence is explored through these cramped and inadequate half-measures raven takes in trying to have it both ways.

the Evil Stepmother is a vehicle for making the fairytale heroine miserable; she has no identity nor any reason for her monstrous treatment of the child who is not her own. rwby, again, flips this over with the mystery of summer rose. who was she, really? did anyone know? she was a good stepmom—she loved yang like her own daughter—but now she’s gone. she left. she never came back. she lied. she joined salem. why? what expectations did she feel on her shoulders? what broke her? why did she do the things she did?

lastly, the Neglectful Father must either be a love-blind fool or a weak, contemptible man with no love or loyalty to his own blood; he forgets his motherless child at the behest of his new love. rwby turns this on its head too by rendering tai as a human being—messy, flawed, fully-realized. wicked stepsisters exist for the purpose of being spoiled by the Evil Stepmother in juxtaposition with her cruelty to the first child, who is kind and good because she remembers her mother’s lessons. the fairytale children of these archetypes function as repetitions of their mothers. rwby makes that the central conceit of its spin on the Neglectful Father: what if he loved both the Dead Mom and the Evil Stepmother so much and then both of them broke his heart in mirrored ways, leaving him a single father to both of their children? if he sees raven in yang and summer in ruby, how does that color his relationships with both girls? if you take away the Evil Stepmother but not her daughter, does the Neglectful Father remember his first child? or are people more complicated than that?

and with all three, the narrative engages with these one-dimensional archetypes by constructing complicated, multi-faceted characters on top of them; by tossing the simplistic moral didacticism of a fairytale and presuming, first, that everyone is trying their best, that bad choices can be made from good intentions, and that no one gets it right all the time, or even most of the time. love and profound dysfunction can coexist.

ruby and yang had very different childhoods. that’s the narrative foundation the whole rose xiao long family is built on, because they’re a deconstruction of the archetypal fairytale blended family.

[utilitycaster]

RE: Ruidusborn superstition - It's weird because Matt has had several opportunities to make it about persecution and hasn't. Laura could've made it a stronger point in her backstory with Gelvaan and didn't. This rounding up Ruidusborn and throwing them in jail is a theoretical crime that a bad guy in a cult told them might happen. 

Dealing with the unfair persecution of non Vanguard Ruidusborn in the fallout of this could be interesting to explore, but a) it hasn’t happened yet and b) still entirely the fault of the Vanguard for, ya know, all the crime. I just don’t get why some folks aren’t exploring the actual interesting conflict in front of them (i.e. being tied to something inherently destructive, your parent using you as a justification for her crimes, etc.) and instead make it about some secret twist coming that will totally make Liliana and the Vanguard “correct” actually in order to (I assume?) justify Imogen’s brief consideration of them and dunk on Orym for having the audacity to not be objective about the organization that killed his family.

Hey anon,

This is a very good point re: the actual conflicts present. I know I've been guilty of going hard on Liliana and the thing is I do find her a profoundly compelling and sympathetic villain. I think she was placed in an impossible position by Predathos imbuing her with troubling and at times painful powers; that despite having good intentions with regards to the nature of Ruidus (there is a lot of value in both studying it and in concealing its nature, depending on your perspective) people other than Ludinus were unable to give her answers and so she was easy prey for his cult; and she has since been driven by these motivations so far down the road of the Ruby Vanguard that even when the daughter she has believed herself for so long to be protecting tries to give her an out and asks her why she's doing this, she can't answer but is terrified of leaving. She is very sympathetic. She is very much a villain. And yes, I'll cover Orym in a second.

The following is, by necessity due to the nature of what I want to discuss, going to touch on some real-world politics though mostly in the sense of abstract strategy with very few specific actual positions. I want to note that we are talking about a fictional work here, and while I do have some presumptions regarding the people advocating for the Vanguard, they are just that - presumptions. I will only say that if this is how the people advocating for the Vanguard engage with people in real-world activism (if they partake in that in the first place), this may be a revealing insight into why they are perhaps less than successful.

Every argument in favor of killing the gods ultimately presupposes killing the gods is correct. They are all, ultimately, either tautological (we should kill the gods because they are deserving of death) and assume that the only objective conclusion is "we should kill the gods", therefore anything other than "we should kill the gods" cannot be objective.

I may be repeating myself since I've said this a lot since the last episode but: there as a truly bone-chilling lack of empathy in thestatement that Orym needs to stop bringing up his dead family and get over it and be objective (read: agree with the premise that the gods should be killed). Actually, if you are a person capable of perceiving others as people, you will likely realize that it is cruel and absurd to expect someone to say "this group murdered my family, but because they did so with the correct motivations, I shall stop mentioning it." As you indicated, it's bizarre that Orym is expected to set the wholesale murder - deliberately set up with no hope of resurrection, just to twist the knife - aside, but Imogen is never expected to set aside the (let's face it, extremely tenuous, given that Liliana's been absent for over a quarter-century) feelings about her mother, a person who recruits child soldiers, turned Vax into an orb, and is a general in the death cult that murdered Orym's husband and father. Like, in a real-world scenario, someone in Orym's position very well might have just left over this. Your friends keep failing to consider your trauma? Perhaps it's time to, painful as it may be, find friends who will be sensitive. [I don't want to focus on the shipping or character dynamic aspects with that particularly argument against Orym, but this is a fictional work and I do think another running theme in all sorts of discourse is that you do not need to justify your ships as logical, and when you do, you really do sound like "why doesn't Ross, the largest friend, simply eat all the other friends." There are logical reasons why Orym might not want to talk with, for example, Fearne or Ashton; but also the heart wants what it wants, and again, if you aren't truly ignorant about the way human psychology works you have to acknowledge that.]

Before I move on to other items I want to note I've as of late seen attempts not just to discredit Orym but to pathologize his behavior as self-harming or moral OCD or a failure to get fully over grief (again, an expectation that is not just devoid of empathy but also sets the standard of 'get over grief' as "agrees with me") and not just "hey, this group killed my husband and father in front of me and I understandably will not budge on this particular front. So there's also a growing ableist push, here, because someone doesn't agree with you and will not agree with you and also might want to kiss someone different than whom you want them to kiss.

As of late, the banner of those wronged by the gods has shifted from any of Bells Hells to those of Aeor, and that is a bad sign in a D&D campaign. If you need to set aside the PCs in order to rely on NPCs who have not shown up in the current narrative? You are clinging to a melting iceberg, my man. (More so after invoking FCG as one of the victims of Aeor's demise, rather than someone created to be used for malicious purposes by Aeor; and even more so after they destroyed themself specifically in heroic sacrifice to save the rest of the party from a Vanguard general.). But more seriously, the focus on Aeor feels reminiscent of advocacy for the unborn; or, to take a page from my own personal experiences and move this back into a fandom realm, the way people will frequently more loudly decry antisemitism for depictions of goblins than for, say, the fact that I don't know of an American synagogue that hasn't experienced a bomb threat in the past 10 years. It's very easy to advocate for corpses or fetuses over the living, or for fictional characters over real people who might be less than perfect. Much easier to ensure they never do such inconvenient things as disagree with you or have their own suggestions or be complicated. It hearkens back to some of the conversations I and others had earlier this campaign about a denial of agency because by making characters victims "stripped of choice," (always that phrasing) suddenly they can't do wrong. They make for a shit story, but at least you can feel morally pure about your flavorless cardboard that ultimately means nothing in-world or out. (And if they don't have agency, that means your morality pet can't run away. Or blow themselves up in a stunning rejection of your argument.)

Returning to the Vanguard: an ongoing discussion in activist spaces (and internet ones as well) is that there's a weird ignorance of optics as an important factor in activism. I know it seems frustrating - why can't people just see that this cause is just - but optics have always been a crucial part of any successful movement. I mean, even if you do believe that we need to do more to combat climate change - and I do - my, and most people's response to the environmental activists who keep throwing soup or paint on artwork is "ugh, this again?" I mean, functionally, while the cause is far more just, it's not terribly distinct from the weird-ass He Gets Us ad campaign; most people are going to say "and you're doing this instead of anything helpful...why?" The Vanguard's optics SUCK. Sure, they've fomented some unrest, but it is an unfortunate truth that the vast majority of people will prefer the inherent violence of a stable system that they are used to over violent unrest. For a successful coup or radical change, either you need to strike at the seat of power extremely quickly or you need to show that you are the more, for lack of a better term, civilized option, and the Vanguard has failed utterly in both these. You're going to get a few places like Hearthdell (though, really, how long will that last given that they got rid of the temple without a scrap of help from Ludinus) but you're going to get a lot of places where city dwellers say "ugh, these stupid crystals are so fucking loud, could this motherfucker shut up" and you're also going to get no shortage of places that say "my family member was taken in by this cult" or "these guys murdered my professor". The rightness or wrongness of the Vanguard's politics aside, a lot of people in-world are likely to side with Orym - these people are murderers who disturb the peace and we should stop them. The cause is lost. Is it, in some absolute sense, fair that people will judge you more for how you convey a message than what the message is? No, although if you convey it in rivers of blood, then, perhaps, yes. But it is, fair or not, often true.

Which brings me back to Orym. I think the reason people are stooping so low specifically to malign and discredit Orym is because he brings all of the above uncomfortably to light. He's aligned with Keyleth, who quite frankly until pretty recently was, within the fandom, partly as (understandable) backlash to the hate she received, and partly because she was, if nothing else, always portrayed as someone deeply attuned to the human costs, treated as a morally infallible authority; and she is no friend to the gods yet still believes their demise is far too great a risk to take. Again, thinking of yourself as Exandria's equivalent of the man on the street (Imahara Joe the Plumber?), are you going to listen to "those people killed my husband and father to prove a hypothesis so that they could tether the moon?" or "my mom, who left me when I was two years old and never came back or sent a letter, is one of those people?" And that's assuming Imogen's even going to make that argument, which, as her actions indicate, she's probably not going to. But most of all I think they really don't like that Orym isn't backing down from "That is the blade that killed my father and husband. She is not right." He's kept to this story the entire time, while the positions of others have evolved. And he's telling the truth. Every time he says this, I think anyone who isn't actually a complete black hole of empathy must confront how much of their humanity they are supressing just to make a poorly-argued point about a D&D show and I'd imagine that can't make one feel very good.

I think people are terrified of Orym's conviction, because he has shown, time and time again, that he is not going to be swayed. I don't think, in fact, that he's going to be swayed by seeing Aeor, should that happen, since Aeor was destroyed a thousand years before he, Will, or Derrig were born, and their murders failed to undo that harm in any way. A really good way to turn people away from your cause, even if it's a good one, is killing those they love. And again, it's fine if you see that position as unfair, or ignorant, or even amoral. It's also extremely true. And I think people realize it's true, given that the only defenses I've seen for Liliana have been "well, but she's Imogen's mother" and "well, it's shockingly easy for people to fall into a cult, because this has happened to my family members." Clearly, we agree that people will place personal connections and the pain of those close to them over ideology. Orym's is just really inconvenient for some people, and so he must be discredited.

In the end: the people in the story who at every turn choose manipulation, indoctrination, violence, subjugation, and conquest are saying "This is the way; you just have to trust me." Is it any surprise most people watching the show are saying "No, I don't think I will"?

[bonefall]

While we’re talking changing who appears in places- can we change the cats helping out with Sunbeam’s rock trial? I was so confused why the cats selected to help were selected. Sure Cherryfall because she was going to be the one opposing Sunbeam, why not, anyone can do that though honestly and not who I take issue with being there. But Alderheart was there? The medicine cat? Don’t you think he has better things to be doing than pushing a rock around? Where’s Lionblaze aka “I may as well still have my god given super strength”? He could easily be the cat that gets pissy for Sunbeam “not listening to senior warriors” and maybe with age feels that she doesn’t respect him, head of patrols, enough to warrant her staying this sabotaging her in the third trial. I felt robbed that Plumstone who seemed to be established as another bg strong cat was absent. Sure sending Sunbeam with all the strongest cats would make it easy but it’d also be making it safe considering Ivypool didn’t want the rock to hurt anyone and it’s a pecking rock. Why not send your strongest cats to deal with it?

I feel very strongly about this trial, can you tell?

I'm a bit dissatisfied with certain trials in general. Most of the time I LOVE the new trials they made, I think they've been super creative so far, but some have been so lackluster that I need to shine them up.

Namely Berryheart's active attempts to get challengers killed. Someone has to get ACTUALLY hurt by one of those, instead of them just being generally unfair and no one raises an objection about it. I did not like the spring-powered adder that went BOING out of a log.

I will say that I would like to expand on Plumstone in this arc, plus her whole little family. They're in an interesting place, with Bumblestripe coming back from Ferncloud's Parting while leaving his father with the Tribe, Blossomfall still reeling with emotional abuse she suffered at the paws of the impostor, Stemleaf's death and Spotfur raising his kits, and Shellfur's mateship with Fernstripe.

Plumstone ALSO has some stuff going on. She's besties-maybe-dating Thriftear, Bristlefrost's sister, and yet she's one of the more outspoken cats about how she's getting tired of the ThunderClan nepotism. She's strong, reliable, and a competent warrior-- so HOW is it fair that Nightheart keeps getting all these undeserved "chances to prove himself" when SHE is here, SIGNIFICANTLY more orange, and wants her own chance to shine??

I still see her personality as being "a dear" lmao, she's not mean, but she's also not willing to bite her tongue either. She will say what's on her mind, and point out unfair treatment when she feels it.

Thriftear supports this. Yeah, she's a descendant of Firestar and a great warrior, but she EARNED the respect she gets. Bristlefrost did too. Nightheart doesn't even want his legacy, why is this clumsy humbug still getting special treatment?

Good-cat bad-cat pair type thing going on.

So I'm probably going to let them both act as a unit, since BB's Dewnose isn't in ThunderClan and that was a really random pair-up anyway.

("wait! Elder Bones! Where did Dewnose go?" Probably ShadowClan, here is the BB!ThunderClan family tree. There's been shuffles; the Cloudbright kits are now Whitewing, Foxleap, and Icecloud, 3 "singlet" litters, spaced out over years.)

Quickie thoughts on touching up the trials;

(DISCLAIMER: NOT SOLID. WE DON'T REWORK UNTIL ARCS ARE COMPLETE.)

Berryheart's are going to need serious overhauls. Nightheart's were really cute and I enjoyed them, but BB is supposed to be about how her group is escalating towards violence. I do not want them to stay so "cute" for the story I'm telling.

I also don't want to keep Nightheart failing his last one on purpose. I want his growth to be more based in self-realization than trying to let Sunbeam "save face."

I kinda want Fringewhisker to get injured during one of her own, and then Antfur dies as collateral damage in Nightheart's last. I'd like Nightheart leaving to be half him realizing that his BEHAVIOR is a problem, and half for his own safety.

In ThunderClan, I'd like the boulder one to be more about Sunbeam assembling a team, almost like she's a patrol head.

Since it's her second trial and she displayed some pretty fantastic leadership skills with her first one, I've got an inkling of an idea that Squilf actually talked with Ivy about wanting to legitimately assess her talent.

Like, "We both know that this whole trial-system was just to appease the other Clans. These are meant to be easy because idgaf. But wow, Sunbeam was actually impressive with those kits. What else can she do, if we give her the chance?"

I really like writing Squilf as she's described in Bramblestar's Storm, where her good leadership comes from being attentive of details and making everyone feel useful.

Man... maybe ill save Rosepetal for this arc and let her be deputy during this. Something feels very Rosepetaly about this. Maybe even have Rosepetal be clearly treating her as if she's a Secondary Apprentice, preparing her to take over her reputation of being a prolific mentor... Nightheart comes back from his trip only to find Sunbeam with twice as much respect as status as he ever had.

I can always axe Rose later to get Ivypool in... But I also REALLY love all the Ivypool Deputy Drama with how there's a conflict with ShadowClan... man. why are there so many interesting girls.

Maybe Rose doesn't have to be deputy, but Ivy assigns Rosepetal as the only "mandatory member" of the Boulder Patrol. Like a tutorial tip lmaooo

Sunbeam: "I think I will pick......................" STARES AT ROSEPETAL, "aaalderrr-" Rosepetal frowns "--pluuuuumstone??" Rosepetal nods, "Wise choice."

And lastly. The final Sunbeam trial. Ngl hated it. It felt really boring compared to the previous two, which were super interesting and excellent ways to give some spotlight to background characters.

Riddles don't even feel like a ThunderClan thing. Idk that was a very RiverClan (philosophy) or ShadowClan (trickery) kind of thing.

I think I'll hold off on thinking about it though; I think it would be SUPER cool if I totally overhauled that last trial to make it foreshadow the later books, somehow.

I DO want to keep that disney channel ass Cherryfall being a bitch part though. I love her so much. I'm so glad she's walking in her father's pawsteps and becoming the snot-nosed brat of ThunderClan.

I will definitely be changing how Sunbeam HANDLES it though. Hate the way that the books emphasize never telling anyone anything.

In fact, I kinda want to make Sunbeam approach Sparkpelt for advice, to show she finally has a figure she feels like she can trust.

Explicitly contrast the way that she NEVER felt like she could approach Berryheart, and that so much of her appeasing, avoidant behavior had been because she didn't feel safe or respected.

Here, in ThunderClan, she has family. She begins to realize that even if Nightheart came back and dumped her, Sparkpelt and Finchlight would NEVER kick her to the curb.

So she goes to Sparkpelt about how she is being bullied by Cherryfall, and they TALK ABOUT OPTIONS.

Like, you know,

Spark: "We could go to Squirrelstar or the deputy."

Sun: "I don't want to cause a fuss if I don't have to... besides, idk, I don't want to set the peat on fire, it would be nice if I could be on good terms with Cherryfall later."

Spark: "that's very wise of you, but just remember that Squilst is a very fair person. We can always go to her. Do you want any backup at all or do you want to do this on your own?"

Sun: "I think... I think I actually do need to do this on my own. If I was being confronted, I think I would just double down if I was being attacked in a group. That was right with Brambleclaw because you weren't trying to convince him, but... what do you think?"

Spark: "I think Cherryfall's just like her father and her ego is everything to her, so I think you're right on the mouse with all this. Honestly, I don't even know how much I'm helping here!"

Sun: "Oh but you are helping! You're helping a lot! StarClan... it feels so nice to just... have someone to listen. Thanks, Sparkpelt."

Basically, tweak the trials to bring them more in line with the themes and messages of BB, y'know? And also beef up the Clans themselves, by stressing the various personalities that are at play here. Especially since I quite like how Sunbeam in ThunderClan has some super neat traits she wasn't expressing in ShadowClan.

Like... it feels like it could be a really cool story to tell about how supportive environments can make you really shine. How you can suddenly seem like a brand new person, just by having people who have your back and encourage your autonomy.