#they all know their father uses them more than he loves them or care for their concerns

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Did kook Ford ever meet the twins. Sorry If you already answered this.

He does eventually! No worries, I haven't answered this before, and this ask is a perfect opportunity to talk about the mystery twins' lore while we're at it :)

Mabel and Dipper were put into foster care at a young age due to their parent's divorce; neither party being willing to take custody of the twins. Since there were no close friends of relatives who were available to take care of the twins (I'm going to put Sherman and his wife out of the picture for now since I'm not sure how to get around that plot hole), Stanley pulled some strings to adopt the twins, making him a legal guardian to them :) As far as the twins know, though, Stanley is not related to them in any way.

Stan tries his best to not to involve the kids in his mafia business, although, the twins are still aware on some level that their "uncle" is not exactly a saint, and neither is his "work". But they love him nonetheless.

Anyways, the twins get actually introduced to the lore way later. The adoption happened a while ago, and several years later the twins are 11 and bored during the summer holidays. Which is perfect timing for Stan, because he needs them out of the house and away for the time being while he's busy taking care of his "work". He doesn't want them to go stir crazy and start causing trouble, so he decides to send them away to some remote town in Oregon called "Gravity Falls", where there is the least amount of violent gang activity and is far, far away from anywhere under enemy mafia dominion (other than his).

Stan lets them go their merry way with a chaperone (Soos) to stay over at his Abuelita's house. He double makes sure the twins are looked after by hiring one of the locals who owe him a favor (Manly Dan's family) to watch over them. This is how Wendy comes into the picture (she doesn't play that big of a role but still) :)

The twins are understandably a little put off by the fact that their uncle just sent them away to the middle of nowhere, but they manage to befriend some of the townsfolk and even find a strange journal in the woods.

They eventually meet Stanford, the unstable old "town kook" that everyone in town has warned them about and adviced to stay away from, and befriend him. He's amicable enough, but he always seems as though he knows more than he himself realizes.

And you'd think this is all there is that Gravity Falls has to offer. Just some strange anomalies and even stranger townsfolk.

But, Dipper wishes to learn more about the anomalies in town, to which Wendy off handedly mentions how her father used to talk about an anomaly researcher that once lived in town. When they all go ask Manly Dan for more information, he refuses to elaborate on it, calling it "nasty business" that they shouldn't be getting involved with.

Obviously, being kids, they decide to get involved in it.

Dipper and Mabel go looking for signs of this so-called "scientist" around town, picking up more clues from what the townsfolk tell them. Until eventually, their investigation leads them to a shack on the edge of town, nestled deep within the dense woods.

The house where the researcher supposedly once resided is abandonned and decrepit. They explore its ruins, but end up finding more questions than answers in the endless sea of indecipherable notes; strange books; rotted specimens and morbid bloody stains. However, the biggest mystery of them all had to be what was hidden beneath the shack. Behind innocuous doors and rickety elevators that brought them down, down, down to a massive structure buried deep underground; the mystery behind this strange researcher seemed to grow ever more.

[goldenroutledge]

someday my prince will come

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count ⤜ 3.7k

summary ⤜ fluff. in which you’ll never feel alone as long as you have rafe, and he’ll never feel alone as long as he has you.

warning(s) ⤜ wedding planning stress, toxic family members

a/n ⤜ inspired by ‘alone together’ - sabrina carpenter || masterlist

Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed. That’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping it will wish away the cynicism surrounding what is supposed to be the happiest time in your life. Transactional relationships set the norm on Figure Eight for friends and foe alike. Everyone used anyone they could get their hands on, only leaving them for dead when the conditions were no longer suitable.

It should’ve been no surprise that people would be treating your upcoming marriage to Rafe that same way. As if it’s nothing but a transaction curated to mutually benefit yourself, Rafe, and your respective families. Truthfully, your relationship was anything but.

Years together proved that passion still burns between you, in a way that most can’t begin to dream of. Every look, every kiss and every touch holds that passion somewhere deep inside. There was no denying that you two have enough of it to last a lifetime and then some when Rafe got down on bended knee and asked you to spend your life with him. You love Rafe Cameron for all the right reasons and he loves you the same.

Your families and friends around you are fools to not acknowledge that, seemingly destined to have their own ways of projecting insecurities onto the both of you. Planning your wedding was something you imagined to be a magical time, selecting colors and florals that would paint a picture reminiscent of a fairytale. Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed.

From the moment your perfectly cut diamond ring was noticeable on your left hand, some chose to take it as a personal invitation to assert their unwarranted advice. It started with your mother, divorced and remarried now more times than you care to keep track of. Her guidance hardly resembles the special experience between mother and daughter that planning a wedding usually brings. After one of your first meetings with your wedding planner, you’d come to regret asking your mother to accompany you.

“I just don’t see why he’s walking you down the aisle instead of me.”

“You mean my father? I didn’t think you’d have such an issue with it given you chose to marry and have a child with him.”

“And I chose to divorce the asshole, too.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me, Mom. You both made your choices and I made mine. My father is going to be at my wedding whether you like it or not.”

“50 feet away from me at all times, I hope.” She speaks lowly, barely under her breath. You’d be burning with embarrassment right now if it weren’t for your wedding planner, ever attuned and able to spot an argument a mile away, who kindly left you and your mother to chat in private.

“Please, don’t worry about that. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with you either. The only difference is that he’s willing to tolerate you for the sake of my happiness.”

“This isn’t about happiness, Y/n. It’s about respect. Had I not raised you right, you wouldn’t be able to attract a man like Rafe in the first place. The least you could do is acknowledge your mother on your wedding day.”

“That’ll make for a beautiful toast at your next brunch with the ladies from the club. I’ll be sure to write that down.” You chide sarcastically, unable to hold back from rolling your eyes at her audaciousness. “It’s good to know that’s what you’re really excited about. Showboating to your friends that I found someone successful, not that I found someone I love.”

“Like it or not, it’s the truth. I’m not afraid to be honest with you unlike some people in your life.”

“What exactly is honest about guilt tripping me into letting you make all of my wedding decisions for me? For us! You’re lucky Rafe isn’t here or he would’ve thrown you out by now.”

“And risk our relationship just when we’re about to be in-laws? You’re ridiculous. I hope he knows the kind of dramatics he’s marrying into.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m not trying to be malicious, dear. I just want you to have your priorities straight.”

“Believe me, they are.”

“You can’t forget your family in the process, my darling. You can’t just leave me behind like I don’t exist because when this marriage is over you’ll realize that I’m not as crazy as you think. You’ll need me again one day.”

“When my marriage is over? This isn’t some fucking contract. We love each other.”

“There’s no need to get hysterical, Y/n. I told myself all the same things too. You’ll see.”

—

Your conversation with your mother left you disheartened at best, infuriated at worst. One look into Rafe’s eyes would have your worries melting away, but you can’t help the nagging feeling inside that’s telling you to say something. You know how much courage it took for him to open his heart to you in the way that he has. You know how much courage it’s taken for you to open your heart, too. You know how with each other it’s been so easy that neither of you really noticed how naturally your love has blossomed. When you fell for each other, there was nothing that could stop you.

That explains why this nagging feeling, that you assume is guilt, simply won’t go away. How can you imagine getting married to Rafe Cameron, the love of your life, and feel anything but unbridled joy. To give a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone doubting your relationship, you’d love nothing more than to proclaim your love for each other in front of a crowd. But in the many scenarios you’ve played in your head, none of them put you at ease.

There was no denying the deep trust that connects you, knowing that you can tell him whatever is on your mind. The worst thing you’ve ever done, the darkest thought you’ve ever had, he will stand by you through anything. And you would do the same for him. It’s why the idea of saying: ‘Hey, by the way, I don’t want a wedding’, is not something you can muster the courage for. Guilt begs you to tell him anyway, knowing how badly he would feel to know you’re suffering in silence like this.

Little do you know, Rafe is troubled in reconciling his own guilt. It’s not just your mother who wants to see the worst come of your relationship. Considering Rafe’s strained dynamic with his father, that should come as no surprise.

Cameron Development takes up most of Rafe’s time these days, leaving him and Ward to spend quite a lot of it together. Rafe prefers to keep their topics of discussion focused on the company. Their relationship works best that way, a transactional partnership between father and son that would benefit the Cameron legacy for generations.

But if it weren’t for Ward’s nagging, Rafe never would’ve ended up here at the Island Club having lunch with his father. He knows for a fact that it would’ve been time better spent with you, his future wife, desperate to feel the kiss of your lips or be able to exhale in your arms in the midst of a busy day.

Ward spends all of 5 minutes discussing some company stuff that could’ve easily been sent in an email drafted by his assistant before getting down to his real intentions. He always hides them behind the mask of a loving father.

“I lied about why I needed to speak with you today.”

Rafe scoffs, but always manages his expectations when it comes to Ward. “Imagine that.”

Ward chuckles, trying to play off his son’s jab as innocent sarcasm. “I wanted to talk to you about your soon-to-be marriage to Y/n.”

Rafe takes a gulp of his drink, already feeling slightly on edge and on guard at the mention of your life together. “What about it?”

“Have you two discussed a prenup?”

“Dad-” Rafe tries to interject, but to no avail. Ward’s already a step ahead of him.

“I know it’s only been a couple months into the engagement, but it’s never too early to have these conversations.”

“I don’t need to worry about having these conversations at all. And you definitely don’t need to be concerned with it either because I’m not asking her to sign a prenup. Simple as that.”

“Rafe, if there’s anything I’ve learned in my marriage to Rose-”

“Your marriage to Rose is a sham. And Y/n is nothing like her.”

“Y/n’s great.” Ward seemingly surrenders, in hopes to disarm Rafe while still getting his point across. “I’m not trying to suggest otherwise. I’m just saying that things happen in marriages and you need to be prepared. What do you think will happen to Cameron Development if she winds up with half in a divorce?”

“If we get divorced, it means that I’ve got bigger problems than potentially losing Cameron Development.” Rafe laments, finishing his drink. “Besides, she wouldn’t want it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know her. For sure. Alright?” Rafe fires back, firm intent behind every word. “I know you have a hard time imagining what it’s like to be loved for something other than your money. And I’m sure you have a harder time imagining how she could love me without it. But you can save your fatherly advice, I’m gonna live my life with Y/n without any of your prenup bullshit.”

Rafe grabs his wallet from his pocket, throwing down several bills on the table that he doesn’t bother counting. All that’s on his mind right now is getting back home to you.

“Have a nice day, Dad.”

—

At this point in his life, Rafe has mastered the art of ignoring Ward Cameron. He’s come to accept that they’re simply a better duo in business than as father and son. The family he came from felt less like family when he fell in love with you. Now that you were about to be married, it was gonna be real. You would be each other’s family not only in spirit, but officially on paper. For the rest of your lives you would be where you always belonged; together.

Right now, Rafe can’t shake the feeling that his father is already preparing for everything to fall apart before you two have a chance to build anything more. Logically, he knows the concept of a prenup isn’t a stupid idea. But his father’s intentions for him have proven to be anything but pure. There’s always something in it for Ward.

Rafe loves you, and that means he’s ready to share his life with you, money be damned. Besides there’s nobody more deserving for him to spend it on, no matter how badly you insist that you don’t love him for the fine jewelry or the dates at expensive restaurants around the island. For him, that’s all the more reason why he commits to showing you a lifestyle that’s beyond comprehension.

He wants to tell you about the absolute bullshit his father brought him to lunch to talk about today but hesitates in mentioning it at all. In any other scenario you’d both laugh it off, but this was a special time for your relationship. It’s delicate, and deserves to be handled with care. Rafe wants nothing more than to protect you from anyone looking to tarnish it.

Rafe’s final straw strikes later that night while waiting for you to finish your skincare routine and join him in bed. His phone sounds with several text messages from Topper. His eyebrows furrow in curiosity, expression quickly turning sour as he reads the messages.

Clearly, after cutting lunch short, Ward was quick to enlist Topper Thornton into his agenda. Seeing the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s an easy enough target to carry out something like this. Rafe scans the messages, catching the gist of it.

Something about ‘A prenup is just insurance, you might not need it! But you should be prepared anyway cause she could leave you at any time, bro’ and ‘Have you heard of the infidelity clause? I'm not saying she would, but you know what Sarah did to me, better be safe than sorry.’ Rafe’s frustration catches your attention when he curses something about ‘this motherfucker’ under his breath.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Rafe looks up to meet your eyes peeking outside the bathroom door. He gives you a reassuring smile, but you can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. Coupled with the fact that his energy has been off ever since he got home today, you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing, it’s just Topper bitching to me about the wedding. He doesn’t think he’ll find a date in time.” Rafe cringes at his white lie, but figures it’s better not to stress you out when you’re about to go to sleep. And it’s not completely untrue, Topper has expressed his concerns about finding a date ever since he found out about the engagement. At this point, it’s to be determined if he’s still invited.

You chuckle at the thought. “Our wedding date is 7 months away, surely that’s enough time.”

“Speaking of our wedding.” Rafe starts, which reminds you of the pit in your stomach. “How did it go with your mom today?”

“It was good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows inquisitively, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice. Finishing your nighttime routine, you make your way to your shared bed. Rafe gets up to meet you halfway and to make sure you’re okay. He’ll be able to tell with just a glance.

“Okay, baby. You know as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Your heart flutters and you smile at him, knowing in your heart that he truly means it. “I know.” You press a kiss to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his large frame. Being in his embrace drowns out any lingering thoughts of frustration. After all, you could choose to blame it on pure exhaustion clouding your mind. “Can you believe we’re getting married in seven months?”

Rafe beams at the thought. “No. Can’t even fathom what I’ve done in my life to deserve you in the first place.”

You shove his chest softly, the tips of your ears warming up at his words. “If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Not sure about that one, baby.”

You sigh, full of contentment while being held in the secure hold of your fiance. Yet a part of you still feels resigned from the stresses of today. “Just ask my mother.”

You can feel Rafe’s muscles tense slightly before he pulls back to look at you. “What do you mean? I thought it went well today?” The gears are turning in his head as he anticipates your response. He’s always been great at picking up on the smallest of cues, be it the change in your tone or the look in your eyes.

“It could’ve been better. I mean you know her, she always has something negative to say about everything, she’s pretty much allergic to my happiness.” You chuckle softly, trying to deflect and keep the conversation from going where it’s headed.

Rafe is having none of it. “She doesn’t think we should get married?”

“Not without her involvement, ad nauseam. Everything I suggested, she had a better idea. She’s trying to guilt trip me into letting her walk me down the aisle instead of my dad. It was just her usual schtick, trying to control me any way she can, hoping she’ll get my attention by using our wedding to play her little mind games.”

“You don’t owe anything to her, not about this. Besides, security will take care of it if there’s any problems. I’m not gonna let anything ruin this for us.”

“I know.” You reassure him, running your hand up and down his arm. “It’s just a lot of tradition this, and family legacy that. She’s sucking the joy out of everything, like usual.” You mumble that last sentence, almost hoping Rafe didn’t hear it. “Not that I’m not excited to marry you. You know what I mean, right?”

Rafe nods, flashing back to the conversation he had with his father at lunch today. It’s almost uncanny to him how you two are often on the same page about everything. It’s comforting above all else. “Yeah, I do. I know exactly what you mean. I had lunch with my dad today, got a lot of the same bullshit.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I shut him down. I guess our parents are just hellbent on making sure we do things the same way they did.”

“As if we want to be anything like them?”

Rafe chuckles at your quip, relieved at how you two are able to make light of the stress your families have imposed on you. “As if.”

You both stand in silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm of being in your lover’s arms. The weight of your worries feel lighter now that you’ve shared them with Rafe, unfortunately knowing that they’ve made a home with you until the big day is over and done with. Hopefully you make it, if the stress doesn’t kill you first. If there’s anyone you’d have by your side through this, it’s Rafe. You can’t imagine enduring the hardships that life has to offer with anyone else. Then again, there are worse problems to have. Just seven more months.

“Did you ever see yourself here before? Getting married?” You ask Rafe.

“Not until I found you.” He charms, satisfied with the way you snuggle even closer to him. “How about you?”

“The same. Never thought I’d find the one until I found you. If I’m honest, that’s all I’m excited for, to just be husband and wife.”

“Y/n?” You hum in response, matching his curious tone. “Do you even want a wedding?”

You freeze, noticeably tensing the same way Rafe did some time ago. You knew the answer and had a feeling that he did too. It was painful to put into words. “I want to be married to you, Rafe. You know that right?”

“I know that, silly. I wanna be married to you too, clearly.” Rafe acknowledges, brushing his thumb over the engagement ring on your finger. “But a ceremony and a reception, the tradition. Do you want that?”

You can’t help but give him a knowing look, one that says damn, you’re good. But it’s also filled with a plea for understanding. “I could live without it, but our wedding will be beautiful, Rafe. I just want to make sure that it’s ours. I hope you don’t have the wrong idea, that I’m having second thoughts or anything because I-”

Rafe cuts off your ramble by kissing you, your face cupped in his hands delicately. He’s gentle, but reassuring. He needs you to remember that he knows you and he’ll never forget.

“Run away with me?” His eyes gaze into yours and there’s an intensity of love behind them that leaves you tearing up. “Our wedding will be beautiful, because it will be ours. Just you and me. We can still have the actual event, don’t think that I don’t dream of you walking down the aisle towards me. We can still have the party and the tall ass cake that you deserve. But having that doesn’t mean we can’t have what we want.”

Rafe’s never been more sure of himself as he watches a tear slip down your cheek, his thumb wiping it away before it can fall too far. You beam at him, and it’s your turn to kiss the man that you love. The man that you’re about to run away and elope with.

“Screw tradition, let’s get married.”

—

The sun sets in the distance, giving you and your husband the perfect view of your spot on the beach, taking turns at feeding each other bites of a miniature cake, coated in a silky white frosting to commemorate your marriage. It was Rafe’s surprise to you, having ordered it custom, and practically overnight, decorated with icing rosettes and your new titles, Mr. and Mrs., written beautifully in the center.

“Our families might kill us, you know.”

Rafe’s smile doesn’t budge, he’s convinced it might just be stuck on his face forever as long as he’s spending it with you. “I guess that means we’ll have to die together then, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does.” You whisper, closing the distance to kiss your husband. You’ll never get sick of it. Golden rays from the setting sun surround you in glowing warmth, something you’ll feel in your heart from this day forward. The light catches your diamond ring perfectly and it winks at you with a sparkle, forever a reminder of the love you and Rafe share.

He pulls back, yet never too far as he holds your face in his hands. His cerulean eyes glimmer with a hope you only see when he’s looking back at you. “You don’t regret it? Not having the fairytale wedding?”

“This is my fairytale wedding. Just you, me, and a cake.” Rafe smiles, unable to imagine that this is his real life; unable to imagine that having him and him alone, is more than enough for you. There’s not a decision he’s been more sure of in his life than asking you to marry him. “Do you regret it? Marrying me without a prenup?”

Rafe scoffs lightheartedly. “You’ve already taken my heart so you might as well have the rest. Nothing else matters to me as long as you’re mine and I’m yours. I love you, remember? ‘Til death do us part.”

He holds out his pinky and you happily reciprocate the youthful gesture by locking your fingers together. “‘Til death do us part.”

Emotion overcomes you once more, pouring your heart into a kiss that’s as true as your promise to each other. You know he intends to keep his, and so do you. Daring to love each other through the pretty and the ugly, healing each other with a simple look or touch. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. If you don’t have each other, then you have nothing at all.

💌: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[gayliketheancients]

Barty felt like he was floating just on the edge of his mind as he gathered up the books thrown shrewnly around his father's office. The imperius had taken over much of his basic movements, routine and muscle memory filling in where an advanced thinking had fallen off. He was too disconnected to feel too sore.

"He really does love you, you know," Mum whispered as Barty began to live the books on top of his father's desk. They would need to return to the shelves once he gathered them all. "His job is so difficult, dealing with Dark Magic. You understand, don't you, darling?"

"Of course, Mum," Barty echoed to her, his words falling hollow like they always did. The impact of the imperius was always to remove his wild emotional behavior.

Evan would hate when he was like this, just like Cas did, Barty decided. So would Regulus and Pandora. Despite his pension for chaos, their little group of outcasts loved when he was loud, energetic. They always told him he was full of life, despite how much he was hated for it on holidays when he was home.

His life was a problem in terms of his father's Ministry cohorts, the absolute nobs judging his late night tattoos from the Slytherin common room and the scar from where his father had split his lip when he was too young to understand what a salad fork was.

"He works so hard to provide for us, Junior." She's continued as Barty put the last book on the stack. Her light footsteps sounded as she crossed the small room, but Barty could not help but cringe mentally when she placed a small hand on his shoulder. His body remained unmoved, frozen under her ice cold hands. "And he's not the best at showing is, but he does love you. We both do."

Internally, Barty snorted. The rage against her words screamed in his mind, begging for answers on why she never stopped his father when he turned his wand on either of them. A decade and a half of snide words and stinging hexes were more than reminder enough of how little the patriarch of the Crouch household truly cared about anything except appearances.

Externally, he just sighed. "Of course, Mum," Barty parroted. The feeling of he frail arms wrapping around his shoulders as she pressed against his back brought no warmth, no comfort. Instead, Barty chose to think of when Dorcas had braided Panda's hair and Evan demanded to use Barty to learn. The faint memory of fingers in his hair brought Barty the only comfort he could find as his mother began to sob into his shoulder so hard it shook them both.

"He love us," Mum choked out in between her sobs against his back. "He loves us."

Barty couldn't hear her over the ghost of Pandora's humming in his ear, or Regulus' pointed lecture about their upcoming Potion's essay. He could not feel the welts from stinging hexes or the burn in his nerves from the cruiciatus curse earlier that night. He could not see the dark mahogany bookshelves and desk in the office around him. In his mind, he was at Hogwarts, and nothing hurt. He was with his family at home.

no thoughts, just barty staring blankly and dissasociating while his mum holds him and tells him she and his father loves him after being imperioed into submission for another ministry event 🤘

[vigilante-3073]

It’s my birthday is on Saturday! Could I have please a Gregory house x reader imagine?

Birthday Girl

Gregory House x Female Reader

Summary: It is Y/N's birthday and everyone seems to have forgotten but House.

TW: Established relationship, surprise party, House being sneaky.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🥳🎂🎉 Hope you have the best day ever!

F/N: Father's name M/N: Mother's name

It was Y/N's birthday.

Y/N was a relatively simple person and didn't expect much fanfare on her birthday, but she at least wanted it to be acknowledged. It was almost lunchtime and not one person had wished her a happy birthday.

Y/N hadn't received a single call or text from friends or family either and it was starting to get to her. She sat alone at a table in the cafeteria, picking away at a dry muffin while trying not to cry.

Y/N looked up when House sat down across from her, her eyes quickly returned to the dissected baked good as she tried to keep herself together.

"You've been upset about something all day long. You've been virtually useless in differentials and I think I know why," House started.

"Why?" Y/N questioned softly.

He stuck a hand into his blazer, pulling out a pink envelope and setting it down on the table. Y/N glanced up at him before picking it up, she opened it and slid out a card.

It was blue with a cartoon goose in a party hat on the front, in swirly pink writing it read:

Happy Birthday, you silly goose!

Y/N felt tears gathering in her eyes, "Happy birthday, Y/N," House said.

"Thank you," She said softly.

"I made reservations for us at that fancy place you like, I'll pick you up at eight," House stated.

"Okay," Y/N smiled.

House stood up from the table, "Get some real food in the meantime, none of the stuff they bake here is edible," House said.

House and Y/N had been dating for almost three years. She was an important member of his team and feelings developed between them as they spent more time together. House always had a soft spot for Y/N and he tended to be more gentle with her than he was with other members of his team.

Cuddy and Wilson both talked to Y/N when their relationship was in the early stages. They wanted her to be careful and advised her that being with him was not a good decision.

Y/N and House worked together, he was her boss and he was House, which was reason enough for her to steer clear.

House was rude, manipulative, sarcastic and downright abrasive while Y/N was the complete opposite. She was kind, trusting, soft-spoken and generally sweet, everyone who met her absolutely loved her.

Wilson and Cuddy thought that House would ruin her.

House may not have always been the romantic type, but he definitely cared for Y/N. He looked out for her in ways that weren't obvious, discreetly checking in to make sure she was doing alright.

For the most part, House had done well with keeping his relationship out of the workplace. Other than a few nasty jokes here and there, he treated her the same as his other employees. Things got easier as time went on and Cuddy was actually surprised that he was able to compartmentalize.

The rest of the day was eventful, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary when it came to being on a case with House. The patient was lied to and browbeaten into making the decision that eventually led to their diagnosis and subsequent cure.

House drove to her apartment after they had finished the case, he brought her a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift. He made his way up to the door and knocked, breath catching in his throat when he saw her.

Y/N had always dressed well, but seeing her fully made up always managed to take his breath away.

"You look hot," He said.

Y/N smiled, "Thank you," She replied.

"Got these for you," House said, holding out the bouquet to her.

"Aw, that's sweet. Just give me a minute to put them in some water and then we can go, okay?" Y/N asked, House nodded.

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, House stepped into her apartment and closed the door. He set the gift on the table next to the couch, moving over to the kitchen and watching Y/N as she trimmed the flowers.

Y/N placed the colorful flowers into the water before setting the vase in the center of her kitchen island.

"I know you like pink so I asked for whatever was the most pink," House stated.

"I love them. Thank you, Greg," Y/N smiled.

He nodded, "We should get going, got a reservation in twenty minutes," He said.

...

Dinner went off without a hitch, they had a few drinks and shared a dessert before House walked her back to his car. He opened the door for her, she thanked him as she slipped inside.

House nodded, closing the door behind her before moving around to the driver's side. He drove back to her apartment with the radio playing softly as they talked. House parked the car and walked her up to her apartment, standing behind her as she unlocked the door.

Y/N opened the door, the lights turned on suddenly before the large group of party guests yelled, "Surprise!"

Y/N turned to look at House, "Did you plan this?" She asked.

He nodded, "I know how crazy you are about birthdays so I told everyone to keep quiet about it until the party... Then you were moping around so much that I caved and got you the card," House said.

Y/N smiled, sliding her arms around him and giving him a hug, "Thank you," She mumbled.

He returned her embrace, "You're welcome... Now go enjoy your party," He said.

Y/N pulled away, stepping into her apartment with a happy smile. Everyone was there, including her parents that House flew to New Jersey for the occasion.

House settled himself on the couch with a drink as he watched his girlfriend interact with her friends and family. He knew that he was lucky to have her, but times like these just showed him exactly how lucky he was.

Y/N almost had too many friends to invite, everyone she had ever met fell in love with her and it baffled him.

How could a person be so magnetic to everyone around them without intending to be?

Y/N had no greater motivations, she was just genuinely happy and House wanted to be like that.

Y/N made her way over, sitting down on the couch beside House and crossing her legs, "You enjoying the party?" He asked.

"I am, but you're not," Y/N stated.

"I enjoy spending time with you, not a fan of the crowd," House said.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" She questioned.

"You just want me to help you clean up this mess," House said, Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile.

"You're right, I only want you to stay over for your cleaning abilities. Not because I like you or anything," Y/N teased.

"I'll stay," House nodded.

"Good, I was hoping that you would," She replied.

"Since I managed to steal you away from your many adoring fans," He started, reaching over and grabbing the wrapped gift that he had left on the table.

House held it out to her, "Open it," He said.

Y/N took the gift from his hand, carefully tearing away the paper. She let out a soft gasp when she realized what it was, a pristine first edition copy of her favorite book.

"Where did you find this?" She asked softly.

"I've been looking around for a while," House said.

"House, this must've cost you a fortune," Y/N said, looking over the book and examining the details.

"You're worth every penny," He stated.

Y/N looked up at him, "You're a really sweet guy, House. Thank you," She said.

He nodded, "I should go introduce myself to your parents, learn what kind of craziness is in my future," House said.

"You go do that," Y/N said, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. House stood up from the couch, making his way over to Y/N's parents.

"Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Gregory House," He said.

"I'm F/N and this is my wife, M/N. Thank you for inviting us," Y/N's father said.

"Yes, we really appreciate you flying us down to see her," M/N said.

"Of course, you're her parents and you should be here," House nodded.

"We've heard a lot about you, Doctor House," M/N said.

"Don't believe everything you hear... Unless they're good things, then they're completely true," House said.

M/N smiled, "Our daughter seems quite smitten with you and I can definitely see why," She said.

"I'm a lucky guy," House nodded, tapping his cane on the ground gently.

"I was actually hoping to get your blessing to ask her to marry me," House admitted.

Her mother smiled widely, looking over at her husband, "I just need to know one thing, Doctor House... Do you love her?" F/N asked.

"More than I've ever loved anything," House stated.

"Then of course, you have our blessing," F/N said, holding out his hand to House. He shook her father's hand with a small smile, knowing that he was about to make the best decision of his life.

...

Y/N woke up the next morning, eyes fluttering open to the bright sunlight filtering in through the window. Y/N turned onto her other side, realizing that the space beside her was unoccupied. House tended to have bouts of insomnia, but usually wound up in bed beside her before she woke up in the morning.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, eyes drifting over to the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"Oh, crap," She mumbled, climbing out of bed quickly and rushing into the bathroom when she realized that she was incredibly late for work.

Y/N brushed her teeth, combing her hair and pulling it up into a ponytail. Y/N made her way out of the bathroom, searching through her clothing quickly to find an outfit.

"Where's the fire?" House asked, making his way into the bedroom with a tray in his hands.

"I'm really late," Y/N mumbled shakily, trying to keep the panicked tears at bay.

"I called in for you and I already," House said.

"You did what?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

"You and I are out sick for the day," He stated.

Y/N let out a huff, her shoulders sinking as she looked at him, "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"You were asleep," He shrugged, "Get back in bed, I made breakfast," He said.

Y/N shuffled over to the bed, climbing under the blankets and settling on the mattress with her back against the headboard.

House placed the tray over her lap, "I thought I had a bit more time before you woke up in a panic," He said, moving around the bed and getting in beside her.

Y/N huffed, "You almost gave me a heart attack," She said.

"My bad... I hope that the chocolate chip pancakes and bacon I made will fix it," He said.

"It might," Y/N replied. She shared her meal with House, sipping on her coffee while he watched her.

"I have a question for you," He said, she looked over at him.

House slipped a hand into the pocket of his pyjama pants and pulled out the small velvet box. He flipped the lid open with his thumb before holding it out in front of her. Y/N's eyes widened, gaze flickering between the ring and House.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" Y/N mumbled quietly, House smiled.

House let out a soft laugh, hand dropping onto the bed, "Did you not understand the question?" He asked.

"No... I-I don't know," Y/N said softly.

"I'm gonna ask again, alright?" House questioned, she nodded.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"Did you ask my dad?" Y/N questioned.

"I don't want to marry your dad, I want to marry you," House stated, smile widening.

"No, did you ask him for his blessing?" Y/N asked.

"Of course I did and he said yes. Now, I'm gonna ask you for the third time and I need you to focus because asking four times would be humiliating, alright?" House said.

"I'm sorry, I just- I wasn't ready," Y/N said, her cheeks flushing.

"Will you marry me?" House asked.

"Yes," Y/N replied, a wide smile breaking out across her face.

"Finally! My god, I was starting to think that I'd never get an answer," House said.

Y/N cupped his cheeks, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. She pulled away and House took her left hand into his, plucking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger.

Y/N smiled as she looked down at it, "It's beautiful, House," She said.

"Wilson helped me pick it out. He's got a lot of experience with ring shopping," House said.

"Well, I love it, it's perfect," Y/N assured.

"I'm glad you like it... Happy birthday, Y/N," He said.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (25)

Aemond, Arianwyn, and Queen Alicent race to find Brynna.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: descriptions of traumatic injuries

Author's Note: There's an alternate version of the header at the end. I love it, but it's far too unserious to actually use.

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn had never craved violence. When she tackled Rhaena all those years ago, all she wanted was to save Aemond. When she stabbed Daemon only the night before, it had been in a desperate attempt to save her own life. But now, as she frantically ran through the halls of the Red Keep in an ill-fitting dress borrowed from the Queen, with a fur stole covering her neck, she wanted nothing more than to feel her father’s blood running through her fingers.

If he had done anything to hurt Brynna, she… she did not know what she would do. Claw at his face, perhaps. Or rip every hair from his head. Gouge out his eyes. Take his sword and cut him in two, as he had done to Vaemond Velaryon. Command Emrys, the dragon he had once tried to keep from her, to burn him alive.

Or maybe she would simply unleash Aemond upon him.

From the murderous glint in her husband’s eye and the hard set of his jaw, she knew that was the cruelest thing she could do. He would make him suffer for what he had done to her. By the time Daemon finally breathed his last, perhaps some tiny modicum of justice would have been served.

Arianwyn was torn from her fantasy of revenge when she rounded a corner and nearly slammed into Aemond’s back. She could not see why he had stopped, only that his hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend his new wife.

The four Bronze Guard that had followed them from their chambers drew their blades, two moving forward to flank Aemond.

“Stand down. All of you,” Alicent commanded, laying a soothing hand on Aemond’s shoulder as she stepped around him.

Though Aemond did not release his weapon, he did step aside, allowing Arianwyn to see Larys Strong standing before them.

Leaning heavily on his cane, the clubfooted Lord of Harrenhal looked over the harried group with a grimace. Though his face was set in pity and sadness, it did not reach his eyes. “I am afraid your presence is urgently required in the Great Hall, Your Grace. Prince Daemon claims he has been attacked and is demanding a trial immediately.”

“A trial?” Arianwyn asked, trapped somewhere between fear and hope. A trial meant that his attacker was alive, for a corpse could not face judgment.

Larys’ dull eyes locked onto her face. “He has brought the accused – your long-serving maid, Brynna Taler – before the Hand and the Small Council. The guards are presently attempting to disperse the crowd his… theatrics have attracted.”

“Has he hurt her?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from breaking with terror.

Flicking his eyes to Aemond and the sword on the prince’s hip, Larys replied with careful diction, “Not fatally, my Lady.”

But the words offered no comfort. That Daemon had laid even a finger upon her was enough to set her tears flowing and a sob ripping from her wounded throat.

That single cry was more than enough for Aemond. He growled, drawing his blade as he pushed past the Lord Confessor. Alicent followed him, shouting futilely for him to remain calm, with Aria not far behind.

Aemond could hardly see the path in front of him for the bloodlust surging through his veins. The fearful stares of courtiers and servants alike as he stalked through the halls of the keep were as inconsequential to him as rats in the gutter.

However, the words they whispered as they approached the Throne Room echoed through his mind.

“Do you think he did it?”

“Of course not! He has only done what we have always expected.”

“It’s only that she’s been on Dragonstone that it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“That is precisely what I mean! He’s been stewing in anger for all these years.”

“Perhaps since he could not have Prince Lucerys’ eye, he took her instead.”

“She may have loved him once, but that was when they were young, and he had no scar.”

“Would you want that sharing your bed?”

“Gods, just look at him. Not even Maegor looked such a villain.”

“He did it. Of that, I have no doubt.”

Aemond would not react. He would not give them that satisfaction.

He knew what he looked like. They had been so rushed to find Brynna that he’d only thrown on his trousers and loose tunic from the day before, leaving his hair untied and his eye – his scar – bared for all to see. He was disheveled, to say the least. And with his scar on display and his sword drawn…

Several ladies looked away in horror, and Aemond knew why – he appeared every bit the monster they all thought him to be.

A flash of Aria’s soft smile when she looked upon his marred face for the first time crossed his vision. You are gorgeous, Aemond. So painfully gorgeous that I cannot stand it.

Yet he could not help but grip his sword tighter, until the skin of his knuckles ached with the effort. He could not stop his scar from burning or the skin surrounding it from twitching. Nor could he stop his stomach from roiling, for despite Aria’s ardent insistence in his continued beauty, he knew that the whispers were true.

To all but his wife, he was hideous – nothing more than a villain and monster.

His despair only deepened when he approached the Great Hall and heard Daemon’s voice carrying beyond the heavily guarded doors and throughout the corridors for all those gathered nearby pretending not to be eavesdropping to hear.

“Arianwyn was distraught,” he boomed, voice wavering with fabricated despair. “It is no wonder why. From the moment we arrived, Prince Aemond never once relented in trying to molest her before our very eyes – ”

Whatever he said next was drowned out by the startled murmurings of the crowd as the One-Eyed Prince, the aspiring molester himself, stormed through their ranks to the still-closed doors, Daemon’s ‘distraught’ daughter close behind. With the steel of his drawn blade flashing in the morning light, they parted for him like stalks of wheat to a raging bull.

Aemond did not wait for the stewards or guards to open the doors, pulling them open himself without a care for their monstrous weight nor their thunderous sound as they again shut behind his wife, mother, and the two Bronze Guard that had followed them in.

The Hand stood before the Iron Throne, the other members of the Small Council and Septon Eustace just below the steps. Rhaenyra and her firstborn bastard stood to the right of the Throne, haughty and presumptuous as ever. A smattering of men from the Kingsguard and various household guards were scattered throughout the hall, eyes darting between each member of the royal family.

Curiously, Helaena was also present. Not truly paying attention, simply standing beneath the column bearing the likeness of Aegon the Conqueror. She gazed out the Eastern windows and watched the rising sun, nothing in her serene face to indicate that she was at all listening to what happened around her.

And Daemon.

Cruel Daemon. Hateful Daemon. Villainous Daemon.

Daemon, who had abandoned Aria before she was even born. Who ignored her for a decade while she had to wonder why she was unworthy of his attention and love. Who had broken her heart the very first time she met him by laughing at her at that damned funeral and saying whatever it was he’d said to her afterward to make her grow up in the span of only a few hours.

Daemon, who had torn them apart when Aemond needed her most. Who had confined her to that horrible island and locked her in that tower. Who had threatened to kill her simply for reuniting with Aemond. Who had nearly followed through on that threat only hours ago, when his hands had left bruises on Aria’s neck.

Daemon, whom Aemond swore he would kill, stood halfway between the dais and the doors, no doubt so his raised voice would carry to the gossipmongers.

Before he could continue his tale, however, the bastard Jacaerys burst from his place by his mother’s side, drawing his own sword and pointing it toward Aemond’s chest.

“Release my sister!” he demanded, despite the fact that Aemond was plainly not holding her hostage.

“I am not your sister!” Aria yelled back.

Aemond said nothing. However, he allowed himself a proud smirk as he raised his own blade in reply.

How dare Jacaerys call her ‘sister?’ What little blood they shared was thin and tainted by his bastard birth. Perhaps if he had been more than Aegon’s boorish toady in their youth or been kinder to Aria on Dragonstone, Aemond would not now be so eager for this fight.

Tilting his head in a silent dare for Jacaerys to make the first move, Aemond could not help but wonder whether the Curse of the Kinslayer applied to bastard nephews.

“Brynna!”

Arianwyn abandoned all her fears and good senses the moment she saw her beloved maid kneeling at the dais steps, pushing past the queen and Aemond. He had reached his offhand out to stop her, but she brushed it aside.

“Take my hand, Arianwyn,” Jace whispered as she passed him.

She did not give him the courtesy of a reply or even a glance at his pleading face.

Daemon glared as she approached, but she did not face him either.

At the base of the Iron Throne, she tripped over the too-long skirts of Alicent’s dress, falling to her knees. She cried without cease as she took in the woman’s wretched state. “Brynna, I’m so sorry.”

A large purple bruise covered most of her face, from her split brow to her bleeding lip. Her nose was broken, still marked with a dried river of blood.

But the worst of it was her hands. Her lithe, nimble hands that had crafted some of the finest dresses in the history of the Seven Kingdoms – including the dress that had become Arianwyn’s wedding gown.

Shattered.

Each finger bent and twisted like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. The skin was so red and bruised that Arianwyn could hardly see the countless cuts marking where she had been struck over and over and over again.

Arianwyn knew that while it was not by her own hand, she had done this. By angering her father, by stabbing him. The moment she married Aemond, she made everyone she loved a target for Daemon’s wrath, and he wasted no time claiming his first victim.

“Oh, gods!” She cried, dropping her head to Brynna’s lap as she had not done in years. But she did not care that she was too old to cling to her maid. She just needed her close. As close as possible. “This is all my fault! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Brynna shushed her, but her sobs soon joined Arianwyn’s. She attempted to wrap her arms around her young charge, only getting so far as to rest her forearms on her shoulders.

“It is not your fault,” Brynna whispered, voice hoarse and broken.

Arianwyn did not believe her.

She would beg and beg for forgiveness until her voice gave out. Until her knees bled from kneeling, and her eyes were dry of tears. She would beg until the Mother herself appeared to offer her mercy or until the Stranger took her away – though to the heavens or the hells, she did not know.

Aemond looked from his wife to Daemon and raised his sword level with the villain’s heart as he strode past Jacaerys. The bastard moved to stop him but was pulled back by his mother.

It was Daemon who had done this. He had hurt his wife’s greatest friend. He had made Aria cry. And he would pay for it.

But Daemon paid him no attention. Rather, he sighed and, with an expression of relief to rival the worst mummers in King’s Landing, took a single step toward his daughter. “Aria!” he cried, “How relieved I am to see you unharmed!”

Aria lifted her head from Brynna’s lap to stare at her father, her mouth dropping open as her brows scrunched. Another tear fell down her flushed cheek, and Aemond’s rage burst into a wildfire within him, lashes of hot pain licking at his scar.

She had been harmed, and he was the one who had done it.

“Stay away from my wife,” Aemond growled, circling his new father-by-law until he stood protectively between him and Aria. He could feel his anger hot on his breath and could swear he heard Vhagar roaring in the distance.

“Was it not enough for you to steal my dear Laena’s dragon?” Daemon asked, brow crumpled with false heartache and a voice loud enough to carry beyond the doors. “Now, you must take my firstborn, as well?”

“I have stolen nothing,” Aemond hissed, angling the point of his sword to Daemon’s neck. All it would take was one motion, one cut, and the Rogue Prince would never harm Aria again. “Can you say the same, uncle?”

“Put down your swords!” Otto bellowed from the throne. “There will be no more blood spilled in this hall!”

‘Swords?’ Who – ah. A quick glance revealed that Ser Warren and a man in bronze Aemond had never met stood behind him, scowling while sheathing their swords. But Aemond did not move, save for a twitch of the muscle in his jaw.

Gods, his scar was blazing. It had not hurt like this since the night it was given to him.

“Despite that pin on your breast, Otto, you have no right to rule in this. It is a family matter,” Daemon spat, dropping his besieged father act.

Otto did not yield an inch, speaking with all the authority of the Iron Throne. “Indeed. Concerning my grandson and his new wife. And seeing as how, in his absence, I speak with the voice of the King – your brother and Prince Aemond’s father –I have every right to rule on this family matter. Don’t you agree, Lord Wylde?”

The Master of Laws startled when his name was called, but he quickly collected himself and answered, “Yes, my Lord Hand.”

The only hint of Otto’s smugness was the nearly imperceptible twitch of a smile on his lips. “With that matter settled, we can begin. Prince Aemond, I will not repeat myself again. Put. Down. Your. Sword.”

Against all instinct and every nerve in his body, Aemond obeyed. Though he did not sheath the blade nor move away from his wife.

Arianwyn’s tears began anew when Brynna nudged her shoulders, pushing away from her. Was she angry for causing Daemon to hurt her? Or had she inadvertently agitated the wounds he gave her?

Brynna shushed her before she could give voice to either question, her hands coming to cup Arianwyn’s cheeks before she pulled away. “Oh, my Aria. You mustn’t cry. Not now. Not for me.”

“But it’s my fault,” Arianwyn whined.

“No!” Again, she moved to cradle her lady’s head, and again, she pulled back. “It is Daemon’s fault and his alone.”

“But–”

“Hush!” She glanced at the two Bronze Guard who flanked Aemond as they sheathed their swords, then over Arianwyn’s shoulder. “You must be strong now. Can you do that? For me?”

Arianwyn ducked her chin and shook her head, and Brynna finally took hold of her, forcing her eyes to meet hers. Against the purple of her bruises, her brown eyes appeared nearly black. “Start with standing, eh? Come, we’ll both do it. We can help each other.”

Careful to mind the wounds on Brynna’s hands, Arianwyn grasped her elbows as she fought her shaking legs to steady and rise.

She stumbled, and Brynna caught her.

Then Brynna stumbled, and Arianwyn caught her.

They at last found their footing just as Aemond lowered, but did not sheathe, his sword.

The Hand sighed, gesturing to Brynna. “Grand Maester, for the love of the gods, will you please tend to this poor woman?”

Daemon seethed. “That ‘poor woman’ has attacked a Prince of the Realm!”

“I have not!” Brynna shouted.

“She did not!” Arianwyn yelled with such a cold fury that she was sure she bore icy claws. Emrys’ howling echoed through her mind as she pulled away from her maid, only enough to allow Orwyle the access he needed to assess her wounds.

Orwyle examined Brynna quickly, then looked back to Arianwyn and gave a slight, reassuring smile. The same he had given her when he declared that Aemond would survive the loss of his eye.But her heart was hollow, and she could not return the gesture.

Brynna would not recover if she were soon executed.

Once satisfied that Brynna’s wounds were being tended to, Otto lowered himself upon the Iron Throne. “Prince Daemon,” he said, “If you are quite finished with your performance, the Crown will now hear your accusation.”

Daemon bit the inside of his cheek, scowling before he once again painted his face with fatherly concern. “After our family meal last night, I went to check in on Aria. She had been so upset when she left, after seeing her dear brother attacked by none other than the man who had treated her with such vulgarity all evening.”

Arianwyn looked to Aemond, begging with wet eyes for him to speak in his defense. But he only glared at Daemon, hatred painted on every inch of his face. Hatred so bright that, for a moment, it seemed a flame danced within his sapphire.

Unchallenged, Daemon continued. “When I reached her rooms, this woman,” he pointed at Brynna as he spoke, drawing attention to her, “was at the door. She would not allow me entry to my own daughter’s chambers.

“First, she told me that Aria was unwell. Then, that she was asleep. When she had run out of excuses, I demanded she stand aside to let me through. But she would not. So, I went to push past her. That is when she took her shears and did this.” He tossed the bloodstained iron shears to the floor and tore off the linen wrapping around his right hand before raising it above his head for all to see.

The comforting thought of spilling his uncle’s blood was the only thing distracting Aemond from the pain searing through his very skull. Until he revealed his wound, and then his heart flooded with dark pride.

A large gash was visible in the space between his thumb and forefinger. As Daemon turned to present his hand to those behind him, Aemond was gratified to see the wound was wide enough for sunlight to shine through the hole. When this was over, he would have to congratulate his wife on a job well done.

“I, of course, was able to subdue her even with the wound, and she quickly revealed the sinister scheme.” Daemon grinned at Aemond as he went on, “The prince here paid her quite handsomely to sneak him into our guest quarters, that he might steal her away for his own. He forced Septon Eustace to wed them. And then, I imagine, he raped her so the marriage could not be dissolved on account of a failed consummation.”

“Lies,” Aemond hissed. But Daemon’s eyes were not on him but on his grandsire.

“An interesting story, my prince,” Otto said, not a hint of emotion in his voice. “Though I am afraid I find myself with several questions regarding its details.”

Daemon scowled, unable to hide his disdain for the man. “And what, pray tell, are your questions?”

“I think we should start at the beginning, don’t you? With Prince Aemond’s behavior at dinner.” Otto raised an eyebrow, the only hint of his confidence. “You see, my prince, I was seated closer to him and Arianwyn than you were, and yet I saw no such evidence of molestation, attempted or otherwise.”

When Daemon opened his mouth to counter him, the Hand continued, “Though I may be mistaken. Perhaps we should ask the Princess Helaena, who was herself seated at Arianwyn’s side, what she saw?”

Daemon scowled but did not object.

“My sweet girl,” Alicent said from where she now stood with her daughter. “can you tell us what you saw between Aemond and Arianwyn at dinner last night?”

Helaena, emerging from her haze, glanced between her brother and his wife. “I saw love, gentle and true. As it has always been.” The princess smiled proudly for a moment, but it faded as a shadow passed over her eyes. “Shattered glass,” she murmured, “Silver shards sharper than a broken blade.”

Not even Daemon had a clever answer for the seemingly meaningless words.

In the silence that followed Helaena’s declaration, Arianwyn looked closely at her cousin as the fog cleared from her lilac eyes. At the dinner, she had said something about a cloak – a white cloak – in the moonlight. Had she somehow known?

Otto gave a soft thanks to his granddaughter, who then turned and simply left the Throne Room, before turning back to his rival. “But these are the small details of your tale, Prince Daemon. Indeed, they may be crucial to its veracity, but whether or not a lady was molested can be quite easily mistaken by even the most perceptive among us.”

Lord Wylde failed to conceal his chuckle.

“Let us focus instead on the larger picture,” Otto said. “For that, it seems we are missing the most important testimony. Lady Arianwyn?” He tipped his chin to her, and she was surprised to find reassurance in the gesture. “Please tell us what happened – but speak only the truth.”

The words echoed those that she heard once before, long ago, and brought Arianwyn back to the Throne Room on Driftmark. She was kneeling at Aemond’s side, pressing kisses to his trembling hand only moments after his eye was taken. She could feel Rhaena’s nails scratching her skin, the heat of Aemond’s fresh blood flowing through her fingers, and her aching chest wheezing for breath. She was drowning in desperation as she begged the king to believe her tale.

How had it come to this again?

“Aemond has done nothing untoward,” she declared, though her voice wavered. “Nor has Brynna. But the prince and I are indeed wed, and our union has been consummated – willingly.” She took a moment to steady herself and stepped towards Aemond, lacing her fingers through his. He startled at the touch, for she had approached him from the left. But he relaxed only a heartbeat later, finally sheathing his sword.

“Septon Eustace can attest to the veracity of the marriage,” she said, looking only at her husband. “My household guard, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Ser Criston Cole all bore witness. Orwyle is welcome to inspect our bedchamber to confirm the consummation.”

When Daemon scoffed, Otto held up a hand to silence him. The prince looked for a moment as though he might argue, but he was pulled back by his wife taking his hand. Rhaenyra gave him a stern look, whispered something in his ear, and he stilled.

“My dear, why wed in such haste? And in near complete secrecy?” Otto asked.

Arianwyn considered her words carefully. She knew Otto wanted her to tell the court everything – but he could not possibly know what he was asking.

With Brynna hurt and her marriage so publicly questioned, she dared not invoke more of Daemon’s wrath. Someday, he would pay for his crimes. But today, all Arianwyn wanted was to free her maid and remain by her husband’s side.

Vengence could come later.

“Aemond and I have been in love these many long years, even when separated,” she said. The truth, even if she had only just learned it. “We did not want to wait any longer for our families to negotiate a marriage contract or allow them to promise us to anyone else.”

That was a lie. But judging by the faces of the Small Council, it was at least a good one.

“I apologize for any pain our impatience has caused,” Arianwyn continued, inclining her head toward Alicent. “We have deprived our family of seeing us wed and all the celebration that comes with it. We married out of love, my Lord Hand. There is no more to say than that.”

The Hand again smiled at her, “Thank you, Arianwyn.”

She began to curtsy, but Aemond held her still. “You are wife to a prince,” he murmured, “You need not bow to him anymore.”

“Eustace,” Otto said, facing the man, “You performed the marriage?”

The Septon nodded. “I did, my Lord Hand.”

“And did the Lady Arianwyn show any reticence during the ceremony? Did she appear nervous or afraid?”

“No, my Lord Hand,” Eustace replied. “She was as happy as any bride I have ever seen. Happier, perhaps.”

Arianwyn blushed, squeezing Aemond’s hand. He tensed, then returned the gesture.

“Grand Maester,” Otto now plainly smiled as he turned to Orwyle, “can you indeed confirm the consummation?”

“I can do so now, if you think it necessary, my Lord Hand.”

“Thank you, but there is no need for haste. Can anyone else attest to the veracity of the marriage? Were there witnesses?”

Arianwyn’s heart soared as Sers Warren, Rolan, and Criston answered.

“Yes, lord.”

“Me, my lord.

“I would swear my sword to it.”

“I thank you, Sers, but I wager that will not be necessary.” Otto finally smiled as he swept his eyes past Arianwyn to his grandson. “Prince Aemond, is there anything you should like to say to the court?”

Aemond finally tore his eye away from Daemon, gaze softening as he looked upon Aria’s beautiful, hopeful face.

There was much he wanted to say.

He wanted to tell the whole court – the whole world – of Daemon’s crimes. He wanted to see him arrested and face the Father’s justice. And when he was executed, he wanted to be the one to swing the sword.

But Aria saw it all on his face, every sinful thought he had. She pulled him towards her, wrapping her hand around his wrist, and shook her head.

“No,” Aemond sighed. “Only that everything my wife has said is the truth.”

The Hand turned back to Daemon, “Well, my prince. It seems that the matter is settled. But there is still the question of your wound. Would you care to offer another explanation as to how you were injured?”

The Rogue Prince was practically steaming with rage. The sight awoke sinister pleasure within Aemond’s heart. He was about to retort, to mock his failure, when Aria released his hand.

She said nothing but pulled slightly on the end of the fur stole she wore so it fell just enough to expose her bruises, now clearly in the shape of a hand, but only to Daemon, his wife, and her bastard son.

Jacaerys gaped, looking as if he might cry. Rhaenyra looked shocked for a moment, then hissed something in Daemon’s ear as his face went as red as their house's sigil. Another hiss and he visibly forced the appearance of composure.

“No,” he bit out. “Seems it was an accident.”

Aria laughed – a light, blithe chuckle – wholly out of place at such a solemn occasion. But to Aemond, there was no sound more beautiful.

His wife may have silver eyes, but she was undoubtedly a dragon.

On the Iron Throne, Otto grinned. “An accident? What sort of accident?”

Daemon only sneered before Rhaenyra stepped in front of him, cutting off whatever biting remark he surely had planned.

“I think we have heard more than enough,” she said, the same forced diplomacy in her voice as the night before. “I suggest, my Lord Hand, that we dismiss this matter entirely as the unfortunate result of a father’s desire to protect his daughter and an excess of wine at dinner.”

Otto nodded, content in his victory.

“Grand Maester Orwyle,” he commanded, “please take the lady Brynna to your tower and give her your greatest care. Dear lady, you have the sincere apology of the Crown, as well as my assurance that you will be compensated for your troubles.”

“Thank you, my Lord Hand.” With the aid of the Maester, Brynna stood and curtseyed. Then, as she was led out of the Throne Room, she flashed a quick grin at Aria, who slumped against Aemond in relief.

Wrapping an arm around her waist to support her, he used his free hand to fasten the stole once more. He let his fingers linger on her throat, focused on the feel of her pulse slowing, the pain in his face fading with each beat of her heart.

The moment the doors – those on the side of the hall, to avoid the crowd – closed behind Orwyle and Brynna, Rhaenyra stepped forward. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. I thank you for your hospitality. But I think it time we take our leave.”

“We hope to see you again soon, Princess,” Alicent replied.

Otto leaned forward. “If you would stay just a moment, we may announce the marriage to the court.” He gave a gesture to a guard to open the main doors once more. “After all, Lady Arianwyn is your firstborn.”

The crowd poured into the Throne Room before either Daemon or Rhaenyra could argue against it.

Aemond took a moment to savor the look of defeat on Daemon’s face and vowed that he would see it again.

On the day he killed him.

I came so close to using this bc Jace's face is just hilarious, but the Daemon pic is more fitting.

I no longer do taglists. If you'd like to be notified when I post, please follow @exitpursuedbyavulcan-writes and turn on notifications!

[crazylittlejester]

Could you give us more about trans Time? (If that’s okay!)

Love that hc btw, it makes me really happy ^^

hell yes i can!! I love trans Time, trans that man's gender. oot link is like the vibes of transgenderism compressed into one single silly little guy (gender neutral). however people trans oot link's gender is always correct in my mind (i personally hc him to be ftm but i really do love seeing any version of him that's not cis)

im gonna apologize rn for any typos or oddly autocorrected words im dyslexic and my laptop works against me sometimes lmao

anyways not sure what exactly you wanted to know (and feel free to ask more questions!!) but i think this was in reference to my modern au post so!!:

Time was born in the late 70s (since the au takes place in present day and he is a good 25 years older than Twi), so growing up he didn't really see a whole lot of trans people who could've helped him realize he was trans sooner, especially because his childhood was mostly him having an awful time with his physical health and arguing with his father for the chance to go to public school and not be homeschooled like his siblings (he is the youngest of 6) because he didn't get along with all of them and wanted to meet new people

Looking back on it NOW he can recognize he realized he was trans when he was like, 12, but at the time he didn't really know what that was and just cut his hair short and didn't understand why he got so happy when people mistakenly called him a boy

There was a period of time where he was confused and thought he was a lesbian (he is bisexual) and he dated Ruto for like a year in high school but they kinda ended up becoming friends instead (they're STILL friends), and then he dated Sheik, who is a trans man, and the realization hit him like a bus

He graduated high school and then just kinda dipped off the map, he didn't realy have friends (besides Ruto, and MALON considered them friends but he didn't realize she liked him that much) so he didn't really keep in contact with people except for Sheik (he was also doing pretty bad physically at this point in time), but he started socially transitioning around 18 and was able to start medically transitioning around 20. Not all his siblings were super accepting, and he's completely cut contact with one of them, but his sister closest to him in age who was his best friend growing up was his biggest supporter

(this modern au takes place in a modernized Hyrule kingdom loosely based on where I live because obviously where I live is the best idea I have of how modern sociey works since I'm living in it, lmao, but Hyrule kingdom was a little more progressive in the late 90s and while gender affirming care wasn't SUPER easy to access, it WAS accessable. the main issue for Time was transphobia from his oldest brother and the people from his INCREDIBLY tightknit town, because outside of that people didn't know he was trans)

Malon was fully aware he was trans because she met him before HE realized that, so when those two got together he didn't have to worry about telling her or anything. And they WERE going to adopt kids at some point, but then Time's sister died and her husband had passed away too and she'd written in her will that she'd wanted Time to take care of her baby (Twi), because she wanted him to have a wonderful environment growing up and she trusted Time more than their other siblings even though they'd all already settled down and had their own kids and were experienced parents (also to be fair, she didn't expect to die and leave her 13 month old an orphan. it was just an IN the event of her death kinda thing, she very much would've rather been able to raise her kid herself)

Time doesn't really give two fucks about passing, not anymore, he wears what he wants, but most people DO assume he's a cis man because he's decently tall and has a deeper, monotoned voice. Transphobia does still exist in Hyrule Kingdom, though it's not as bad as it was when Time was a kid, and also the city where the boys' apartment in is incredibly LGBTQ+ friendly (not that that means homophobia and transphobia don't exist, it's just a much safer area to be out that other places in the kingdom) so he doesn't ever feel like he has to HIDE being trans. He goes to pride parades sometimes (when he knows he won't get overwhelmed) and he and Malon are definitely that older couple who give out free supportive parent hugs to people who really need it

Legend in this au is also a trans man, and I wouldn't call Wild cis but he's amab and uses he/him pronouns at the moment while he figures things out (he's also perfectly fine with they/them)

[pyract0]

Random thoughts with hsr men: Parental edition

☪Includes: Jing yuan, Blade, Sunday, Boothill, Dr Ratio ☪No defined pronouns/ anatomy specifics for reader, adoptive children (specified to each character), mention of loss of loved ones. ☪Extra note: Accepting requests! Wanting to get back into writing but I tend to struggle thinking of new ideas- tend to lean towards certain characters that I have a better understanding of their personality but open to anything! ♡

-`♡´-Jing yuan who names your adoptive daughter Mimi after his beloved companion . -`♡´-Jing yuan who juggles being a father and a father figure between your sweet girl and Yanqing. -`♡´-Jing yuan who goes out of his way to include the boy under his guidance into your little family, with you both treating him as you would your own child. -`♡´-Jing yuan who brings your daughter with him anywhere he can, making sure she's treated with more respect than anyone on the Lufou. -`♡´-Jing yuan who shows off his daughter to all his closest friends, with Fu xuan having a soft spot towards the little girl, not that she'd willingly admit to it. -`♡´-Jing yuan who's nickname for your toddler is "snowy" to match her name and it's origins.

♱✮♱ Blade who often forgets about your son, leaving him under the care of silverwolf when you're both busy with missions. ♱✮♱ Blade who spends most of the time just sitting near the child, making sure he causes no trouble with minimal interference. ♱✮♱ Blade who despite how he portrays himself, cares for the toddler beyond belief, willing to draw his blade at any malicious attempt directed towards the young child. ♱✮♱ Blade who would lay with your child for hours at a time, letting him sleep without disturbance while he contemplates life. ♱✮♱ Blade who has part of him that wishes you both would have entered his life earlier, before the mara took root in his body and not being cursed with immortality, inevitably knowing he'd lose you both one day. ♱✮♱ Blade who nicknames your boy "gremlin", often using it more than his actual name

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who heavily relies on Robin for help with your daughter when he's unavailable as head of the family. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who spends all his free time that he can with the both of you, walking around the dreamscape or relaxing together in your shared home. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who has learnt to be careful around the little girl, having had his wings locked in her iron grasp on multiple occasions, needing to wait for you to pry her hands open. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who holds your daughter in his arms as she dozes off after a long day, taking a moment to let himself rest while you preen his scuffed up feathers. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who let's your daughter hang off him, adding hair clip after hair clip to his now mangled grey hair. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday who often calls your small toddler "angel", though he begins to question how fitting it is with her mischievous habits.

• ➵ ✩ Boothill who dedicates his whole being to protecting your daughter, unwilling to even consider the possibility of losing another one of his babies. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who talks about his little girl to your toddler, including her in your family even if it's only in spirit, always mentioning his two baby girls when family discussions occur. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who accidently teacher your child his censored version of any and every curse word in his vocabulary, panicking when she runs up to you shouting them. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who never takes his family time for granted, spending as much time playing with your child and showering you with affection before he's sent on a new mission after another target. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who was stuck digging pieces of crayon that melted together after your daughter shoved them in the holes of his metal plating when he was asleep, having little help from you who couldn't contain your laughter. • ➵ ✩ Boothill who often just calls your little girl sweetheart or honey, finding the simplicity more endearing.

・✎・Dr Ratio who despite his blunt personality, manages to be a good father to your son, with you both providing what you can for the young child. ・✎・Dr Ratio who sometimes forgets the mental capacity of a younger being, trying to teach him how to play chess so he has a partner for the game. ・✎・Dr Ratio who occasionally brings your sons to lectures, finding amusement in the child laughing when he insults one of his students. ・✎・Dr Ratio who maintains your child a safe distance from anything he deems could harm him, including his colleagues at work, especially a certain gambler who just adores the boy. ・✎・Dr Ratio who spends any free moment at home with the both of you, helping you around the house and being present whenever your child calls for him. ・✎・Dr Ratio who prides himself in his sons intelligence, calling him his "little genius" even if he's currently a little behind.

[borgialucrezia]

"There is no one closer—" Oh, don't lie to me, Father.

[longagoitwastuesday]

I am liking Jujutsu Kaisen, way more than I imagined I would, but I foresee it will let me down and it's keeping me from enjoying this as much as I could haha

I think the characters and dynamics are well set, and I think many of them have an incredibly good and deep potential, but I would be willing to bet they'll not get a proper development, enough for them to really hit. A well assembled set of gears is not enough to make the movement go, you have to wind the clockwork.

I think Gojo and Megumi have a fascinating and very complex dynamic, but I doubt it will be given the time and care that imo it needs to actually work. And it is going well enough for now! One could see the intimacy between them was deeper than the one Gojo had with, say, Yuji and Nobara ever since the very first few episodes despite the fact Fushiguro too was a first year. But the pieces forming what they have are extremely complex, and it just wouldn't be realistic if it doesn't show, even if in a not showing way, or if it doesn't have consequences or implications.

It's one of those dynamics that shape one's life, the way one regards the world, the way one establishes or not relationships with other people. It's one of those dynamics that could be full of fondness, gratitude, resentment, admiration, trust, and that imply intimacy, the good kind or the bad, even if in just the knowledge of someone who's been a constant through your life. It could, and would, imply a myriad of feelings, and probably in such a mix it could imply contradictory feelings too. Even the nothingness would weight, even the nothingness would be significant and meaningful.

Gojo took Megumi and his sister under his wing, the son of a man who murdered him, because of both selfish and selfless reasons. Megumi looks like Toji. What does Gojo feel about this? How does Gojo deal with this? How does Gojo go about taking care of Megumi? Would he walk him to school? Make him breakfast? Celebrate his birthdays making him blow candles? Did he take him to the zoo? Does the relationship between them feel professional or is it something more? Gojo appreciates his students, but is Megumi to him just another student? When Gojo faces Sukuna in Megumi's body, did he see the kid he raised, or does he just see Sukuna in one of his students' body? Did he have one faint wavering instant? And how does Megumi feel about this? Is he resentful of him? Resentful of the situation? Of the selfishness behind his actions? Does he feel like a pawn? Is he grateful? Does he resent feeling grateful? Would he rather not? Does he love Gojo? Does he feel nothing about him other than what he could feel about a teacher that sort of annoys him but knows he's reliable in his strength? Does he think it unfair, cruel or unfeeling that Gojo is close, closer perhaps, with Yuuji or Yuta, considering their story? When Sukuna slices Gojo in two, does the remnants of Megumi's soul tremble?

And not just Megumi and Gojo. Yuuji and Nanami, Gojo and Nanami, Yuuji and Fushiguro, Nobara and the boys, or Nobara and Maki, Todo and Yuuji or Yuta, Gojo and Yuta, Megumi and his sister. Gojo and Geto, even! If the pieces are well set, the dynamics are intriguing, interesting, and have potential to be deep, but then the characters have like two plot relevant scenes that punch you hard, but little more, it's not nearly enough. Especially not nearly enough for the enormity that is shonen dynamics and situations. And the potential existing at all, and then not delivering, makes it all the more frustrating when you're left with something mediocre that could have been so good.

The development of dynamics through not only a few plot relevant gut wrenching moving scenes, but also the smallness of life, is important. The friend who recommended this to me said that those things were just unnecessary filler, but I disagree. I think there's a big difference between a large amount of anime-only filler episodes whose existence is based on the fact they had run out of manga chapters to animate, and moments of quietness. The low stakes character-driven moments of quietness can be so telling and so insightful, and they are so satisfactory when brought back later in higher stakes situations. My friend teased me there was no scene of Gojo making breakfast to Megumi, that it would be an idiotic idea, but it would be so telling. How he makes breakfast, what they eat, if he tries hard or if it's all mechanised, if they have personal bowls or if they use whatever, if he just buys them some pastry on the way to school, if the way they have breakfast changes through the years, or if he doesn't make them breakfast at all! All that would be very insightful on their dynamic and its evolution. All that would give a glimpse on how they regard each other and why, even in the present. All that could become meaningful in tense situations and high stakes scenes.

These moments also let the plot breath; if a lot is happening all the time, if every character is always experiencing trauma after trauma, the entire story is so emotionally draining that at some point you don't even care all that much. Besides, these nothing moments or low stakes plot arcs, besides deepening and developing dynamics, also let some in-world time pass, which would make the intimacy and bond between characters more believable imo; between Yuuji eating Sukuna's finger and their last confrontation in December how much time has passed? A few months? Am I truly to believe these characters are so everything to each other in only a few months?

Without some smallness, some repetition, some daily life, some low stakes not plot-centric development, the dynamics don't hit, they don't truly feel fleshed out, and dynamics as complex as the ones Megumi and Gojo have, or as supposedly meaningful as the one Megumi has with Yuuji or his sister, should be fleshed out if they're going to exist at all. Otherwise they'd risk making the writing feel awkward and fake. Besides, if the dynamics felt well fleshed out and realistic, they would shape the way the characters interact and act, and how they deal with situations, thus being plot relevant.

The shonen genre has so much happening all the time, the stakes are so high, the dynamics are so rooted in big events and the relationships carry enormous weight and implications. Yet they barely get developed, and it feels so stupid, so plain, the absence of something so important noticeable like a constant void, a shapeless nothingness present in every scene. It makes the characters feel like cardboard figures. Jujutsu Kaisen is already getting a better job than many, but I doubt it will do enough for what I've heard, and I fear I am bound to feel let down, and bound to feel unmoved.

After all, if not enough time and care has been given to develop a dynamic, I am not going to feel pressured by the high stakes; if not enough time and care has been given to develop the dynamic between Megumi and Yuuji, as good potential as it has I am bound to feel little for this last confrontation between Sukuna and Itadori, and his effort in getting Megumi back.

[stxrfclls]

nerina  only  rolls  her  eyes,  she's  not  going  to  continue  to  argue  when  alina  is  right,  but  nor  will  she  let  the  conversation  continue  when  she's  wrong.  love  was  such  a  foreign  concept  to  the  dragomirs,  she  wasn't  sure  how  to  manage  it  nor  navigate.  the  relationships  with  her  siblings  alone  was  enough  to  prove  that,  estranged  or  mended  but  never  perfected.  she  and  alina  may  be  closer  now,  but  their  inability  to  have  a  healthy  relationship  in  their  childhoods  was  only  another  tally  in  the  category  of  a  broken  home  and  incomplete  heart.  nerina  lets  her  sisters  words  settle  in  her  mind,  beginning  to  reply  before  she  hears  daxton's  name.  she  sighs,  wishing  to  be  angry  but  she  can't.  alina  has  to  be  careful  due  to  her  position,  but  nerina  hopes  this  is  also  because  she  simply  cares  for  her  sister.  no,  she  knows  that  to  be  true.  "  daxton  also  said  i  should  not  be  worried  about  you  with  cedrian.  "  admits  the  younger  dragomir.  she'd  cornered  the  spymaster  and  demanded  facts,  worried  for  her  sister  and  pushing  into  the  relationship  he  held  with  alina.  she  had  no  regrets,  she  suspected  neither  did  alina.  but  having  her  approval  was  important,  she  couldn't  be  with  someone  her  sister  didn't  like.  "  no,  i  think  you  two  need  to  meet  alone.  "  any  man  who  could  not  withstand  alina  on  their  own  feet  wasn't  strong  enough  to  deal  with  the  summer  pirate.  she  had  no  doubt  alistair  could  handle  himself.  "  another  who  is  tethered  to  his  own  court,  no  less.  "

"  need  i  remind  you  my  ship  is  home  to  heathens  and  immature  fae  alike  ?  "  parrots  the  younger  summer  lady.  she  doesn't  stick  her  tongue  out  though,  even  if  she  wants  to.  a  nod,  "  next  time  i  sail  i  shall  send  for  you,  drag  you  to  take  the  long  way  to  the  day  court  with  me.  "  since  now  they  both  had  reason  to  visit.  if  only  they  had  portals,  it  would  be  far  too  good  of  an  addition  in  their  world.  perhaps  one  day,  the  magic  was  rewriting  all  they  thought  they  knew.  "  talk  to  them,  lina.  get  to  know  them.  you  won't  go  in  expecting  them  to  call  you  mom,  just  be  yourself  plus  a  little  sweeter.  "  the  latter  is  a  bit  of  a  tease,  she  knows  that  alina  is  capable  of  being  softer  around  children.  look  at  how  she  is  with  her  own  sister  as  compared  to  other  members  of  their  court.  "  then  it  is  settled,  we  shall  make  it  a  date.  "  even  if  she  were  more  pirate  than  lady  most  of  her  life,  nerina  actually  adored  children.  a  shrug,  the  summer  lady  doesn't  want  to  argue,  but  she  needs  her  point  to  be  heard.  "  when  he's  able,  but  that  is  far  less  than  now.  it's  still  something  i  am  happy  to  do.  "  because  she'd  rather  be  with  him,  and  she  knew  her  sister  could  figure  it  out.  nerina's  nose  wrinkles,  she  can't  really  explain  why,  but  the  reaction  is  had  all  the  same.  "  i  agree,  and  she's  always  been  the  most  innocent  of  all  of  us.  "  something  that  made  being  an  emissary  difficult.  ner  also  wondered  what  her  sister  was  doing  with  the  high  lord  of  this  court,  a  feeling  in  her  bones  she  does  not  bring  up  now.  she'd  seen  them  at  the  festival,  chose  to  leave  it  be  for  now  until  jules  spoke  up.  if  she  ever  did.  "  i  think  we  both  have  a  lot  to  think  about  lina,  because  we  both  deserve  happiness  even  with  the  bits  our  father  ruined.  "

END.

"you, indeed, are." truly with dragomirs as a whole, save for lavinia perhaps, the matters of heart was in essence the blinding leading the blind. alina could advise her sister on almost anything, save for affairs of the heart. it had taken the high lady far too long to allow herself to admit she had developed feelings for cedrian, and then some to realize she loves him. still, she holds the belief that ner understood these feelings far better than her elder sister ever could. for the younger fae, it was fear of falling and not having it reciprocated - that was far more frightening. "what matters is what comes with such hubris. i also believe you've discovered that as well with him." she met the younger dragomir's gaze, with her softened ones, "he does. and at the risk of you being cross with me, i had daxton look into him." she pauses, "i don't discredit your judgement, but you know well me enough that i would pry into anyone who wishes to be involved with my siblings. your commander is a good man." while ner does not admit to her feelings directly, alina had surmised enough, if her sister hadn't fallen for him, she was beginning to. ner knew what her commander meant to her, only that she struggled to admit it out loud to herself. "if he's sincere , then he has no reason to fear me. you may watch if you wish." there was mirth dancing in the high lady's gaze. "it's a curious look on you, becoming - never tethering yourself, not even to our home, but now to another."

"need i remind you're also a captain, and such antics are beneath you." alina knew that would simply earn her another eye roll. the jest falls wayside as ner returns the sentiments, and the elder simply allows herself to relish in the warmth that evaded her for so long concerning her sibling. "as am i." she dares to hope that when they returned home, the hallways of adriata palace would not be silent, they would be filled with the vibrant chatters of her siblings. "perhaps when time permits, i may be able to." how often had she wondered what it would be like to sail the seas past adriata with ner? ner's request of revealing her feels to the day high lord was ever daunting, "i will consider it." a response to soothe her sister's worry. "children are more observant then we give them credit for, i don't wish for them to think i am inserting myself into their lives. you forget i have not been around children, not even our younger siblings, i scarcely was able to hold them as toddlers or play with them as children." it was one of those times it was a stinging reminder how much she missed out with her own siblings. ner's offer has her take a beat of pause, grateful that the other was keen on this, "i would like that, and they will like meeting you." that she had no doubt of, they would find ner far more palatable than alina. she wouldn't deny she did wish to meet them, each time ced spoke of them, it was as if she knew them without ever meeting them. "he would travel with you as he's able, and i have no qualms in making sacrifices for him, without compromising my duties." how was she to explain, she does not wish for ced to do so for her? " thank you. i fear jules is far too distracted." in an emissary it was concerning, given their situation. there is relief that for now, ner drops the subject, and it was not her questions that bothered in her any form, it was that alina was even far more afraid than her sister thought her capable. alina also knew, she could not avoid having a frank discussion with cedrian for long now. "i will say this, i am taking all of your wise words into consideration as you are with mine. i do not know of love, but i read others well, so, i know, alistair will not break your heart."

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

i have to think about chilchuck and laios forever

[iwoulddieforienzo]

Something that makes reading TOA so devastating is how fucking much Apollo feels about Everything. There’s so MUCH. Like I don’t even know how to describe it to you if you haven’t read the books yourself. He has so many complicated thoughts and emotions about just about everything and he cares about everything so much and there is just SO MUCH going on in his head. And yet none of it ever reaches his mouth!!

He almost never says what he’s feeling. What little comes out of his mouth about his thoughts barely even scratches the surface of what he actually means. Like he’ll be having a long ass monologue about how incredible someone is, showing a deep understanding of them as a person and empathizing with them so hard you’d almost think it’s projection but it’s not he’s legitimately just mind melding with this random person he met like a week ago and he’s thinking the softest, kindest thoughts about them like he knows they’re fucking incredible - and what comes out of his mouth is just like, “you’re a wonderful friend :)” AND ITS LIKE. THERES SO MUCH MORE UNDER THE SURFACE. the sheer admiration and adoration he has for everyone around him……… UGHHH!!! But he never VOICES ANY OF IT!!!!!! He never tells anyone about what Zeus did to him……. He never tells anyone except the reader about his realization that Zeus is abusive…. He never even tells commodus about how much he adored him, not then and not now… he refuses to tell anyone when he’s in pain or tries to justify the things he does when he actually had Decent Reasons for why he did something… I’m. I’M. AUGH. AHHHHH

HE DOESN’T EVEN TELL US ALL OF HIS THOUGHTS IS THE THING. THERES EVEN MORE THAT HE IS NOT TELLING US!!!!! THE FUCKING OCEAN OF FEELINGS AND THOUGHTS HE HAS ABOUT EVERYTHING IS THE CLIFF NOTES VERSION. I AM IN DISTRESS.

And YET…. Even what slips out of his mouth is so fucking devastating it is SO devastating. He’s so fucking kind and gentle with Harley and Meg and and other younger Demis and his kids… he’ll act like an obstinate idiot and then turn around say something that drags the core of the person he’s talking to into the light like nail on the fucking HEAD like he reached into their soul and gave them the words to express something that they were struggling to say aloud or that they didn’t even realize about themself. Around the 2nd book he starts putting voice to some of his feelings and thoughts about others and even that tiny fucking sliver is overwhelming to the people he’s talking to bc he’s SO. AUGHHHH

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"[...]and... your family."

miklan is still alive in this route and is referenced immediately after this scene, he's literally telling sylvain to take care of miklan too

[depvotee]

i will not stand green team in my house. i swear to god.

[todayisafridaynight]

How is Mine as a husband? Or do we only see him as a dad?

hold up which one of yall is seein him as a dad ????? 😭

[terrestrialnoob]

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.