#they may have never seen her again and that was it.

[nightcapd]

One young man, not themselves spurned but moved to act for their family, dares spring a question nobody else will; in his innocence. "A lucky guess again. Is it the gods' repayment for a lifetime of misfortune? Or have you always been so lucky?"

Nobody dares tell him something could be so strange about the woman; but she fields the question with a roll of her eye, then a smirk. "Peh. Experience alone. You have one bad husband, you've seen them all. You have one good husband with a bad quality? You've seen them all. And all husbands are bad unless they try and do better. Sometimes it takes a little consequence to get through to them. Sometimes they never learn. May you all learn your own lessons before you get hurt by them," she suggests, and everyone agrees to the teachable moment.

You’re an ancient Greek man coming home from 4 months of war to find your wife 3 months pregnant. Now you’ve embarked on a solemn quest: to punch Zeus in the face.

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[tinylilacbun]

even after jj gets caught by the mercenaries the only thing he worries about is his baby...୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

This was not what JJ had planned. To be caught, by the same guys that tried to off him and Kie when they got that amulet, because of Groff was the last thing he had on his agenda after his crash out.

Now, after being shoved into an engine room he paces back and forth, stopping to point a finger at Groff with a glare on his face. "Listen, I don't care what you got going on with those guys but I have to go back home, a'ight? You may not give a fuck about me, I can live with that, but I got a kid that that's expecting me to tuck her into bed later."

There's a beat of silence as Groff sits down on top of the metal steps, his hands intertwined together, seemingly shocked at this new information. "You got a kid?"

JJ sighs, leaning against the railing with his back facing Groff and crossing his arms. "Yeah...she's- god, she's the best thing that ever happened to me, actually. I mean, I did a lot of fucked up things. But she's the only thing I never regret in my life."

Groff nods with a smile that's everything but genuine which the blonde didn't notice at the moment. "What's her name?"

JJ says your name with adoration, smirking to himself as he can only think about how much of a fuss you're probably giving the others right now.

"She just turned three. A hyperactive little rascal, something she got from me apparently, at least that's what everyone says." He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck.

That describes it lightly.

You're basically a mini version of him, the same crazy locks, a dimple that is always seen on your chubby cheek, the mischievous and adventurous behavior.

Everything about you screams that you are JJ's kid, and you you can be sure that he's more than proud of that.

"Guess there's never a boring day then." Groff chuckles, trying to get on JJ's good side by doing small talk.

"You wouldn't know it." JJ remarks, turning his head to face him. "Since you gave me away to a drug addicted alcoholic before I could even crawl but who am I to care. I got someone worth fighting for and waiting for me to come home right now."

He adverts his eyes from him again, running a hand through his messy hair with a heavy sigh.

"She's a good kid...always polite and helping whenever she can even though she's still so small, probably thanks to Kie's and Pope's influence." He chuckles lightly, looking down at the matching bracelet that's designed in a mix of yours and his favorite colors that Sarah made for you and him a while back.

Groff stays uncharacteristically silent, taking in how JJ talks about you as if you're the most important thing on earth, which you are, to him at least or all the other pogues that watched you grow up.

"Just know, that if you pull any shit with me, I swear I won't hesitate to kill you before those mercenaries can." JJ suddenly threatens him, not planning on growing any kind of bond with the man who couldn't give a damn about him when he was just a baby.

The only thing that matters to him is you, his baby.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Miss Sunshine 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Nick Fowler

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Nick and Cloudy.

Summary: a bored man needs a new light in his life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Nick's eyes stray across the street. He's distracted. He shouldn't be with the tall beauty across from him and her sparkling sapphire eyes. She's stunning to look at but he has to admit her conversation is as dull as the tablecloth. He tries not to let it show. He nods and mutters something about the earrings she keeps bobbling her head to show off.

He swallows a yawn. It's a nice restaurant, the food's always good, and yet he feels so nonplussed by it all. He lives the high life. A nice house, beautiful women, an exciting job. None of it hits anymore. It's all so boring.

Even when he's away on some mission, he doesn't feel much. It's all just so ordinary to him. He does his job and he does it well.

His eyes wander again. He's hungry. That's it. They ordered fifteen minutes ago and the wait is making him restless.

He tilts his head as he watches the girl in her hot pink jacket. He's never seen denim that shade before. Her faded jeans are tattered around the ankles and she wears a pair of heavy boots that were likely once a shade of rose but now no more than a dingy grey. She stands on the curb, watching and waiting down the road. The bus comes this way. The patio looks out on a busy street but today, the lively traffic only feels like a nuisance.

She raises her chin to see over the cars. She perks up then unhooks her large knapsack and brings it around the front. She shoves her arm inside and searches inside as she looks down. She rips her hand out and several items go flying over the pavement. She bends to pick them up as the bus nears the stop. Despite her efforts, she's too slow. The driver doesn't see her and drives past.

She stands, clutching a transparent pouch and her pass, her heavy bag weighing down her other arm. She waves helplessly and tries to chase the bus down. It doesn't heed to her nor does the cyclist heading in her direction. She barely avoids the collision and her foot slips off the curb. She lands in a heap between two bumpers.

He frowns as he watches her. He twitches, ready to get up and jump over the little fence onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians pass her by without a single look. Kelly says his name and he looks at her with a 'huh'.

"Pathetic, isn't she?" She looks across the street and snickers.

He shrugs, "seems like she's having a bad day."

"She's an idiot." She insists.

He grimaces and leans back. "You think so?"

"Sure, I mean. Look at that colour. It's not good on her complexion and she's got that bag overloaded. Can hardly blame anyone but herself--"

"She seems busy. On her way somewhere."

"Oh, I'm sure," she snorts and rolls her eyes. "She really looks like the popular type."

"You know what, I'm not too hungry anymore," he says.

"What?" She scoffs.

"Yeah, waiting kinda turned my appetite." He takes out his wallet and counts the bills. He folds them and lays them on the table. "It's on me. You can give mine to a friend or take it for yourself."

He stands and grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. She gapes at him.

"This isn't about that weirdo across the street?"

He sighs, "no, you're just kind of... not interesting."

He tweaks a brow and turns on his heel.

"Nick," she squeals after him. He doesn't stop.

He struts down the street and crosses at the lights. It's only then he glances back. She's making a scene, crying at the table. He can't remember why he asked her to come to lunch. She has nice legs but she just laid there when they hooked up last week. It was just another thing that had grown stale on him.

He makes his way along the other side. He keeps his distance until Kelly storms off, engrossed in her phone as she angrily texts whatever enabler responds first. He nears the girl in the pink coat. She sits on the curb. She's deflated. Her bag is in her lap as her legs are loosely crossed as they hang off the edge.

Kelly isn't wrong, just not in the way she said it. The girl isn't pathetic or stupid, just a bit down on her luck. He feels a pluck in his chest, the most he's felt in a long time. He's always been the person where everything just sort of goes his way. This doesn't seem to be very different. After all, life brought this curious figure into his life for some reason, right?

He passes her and takes out his phone, using the front-facing camera to get a look at her as he does. She's young. Judging by the keychain on her bag, she's attending the local college. Makes sense. She probably doesn't need a man his age circling her.

He crosses the street again. He looks at her and a wrapper bounces off her head. She looks back at the litterer as they don't even notice their offense. She huffs and gets up. She checks her phone. She grabs the wrapper and puts it in a trash can nearby.. She drops her shoulders and sets off down the pavement. She might be down but she hasn't given up.

Neither has he. Not yet. He thought he was done, that he had everything, but he's so wrong. He just wasn't looking in the right places; at the right people.

[tousey-mousey]

To be clear, I'm about to disagree with this post, but I also do not want to trigger anyone including OP who may be working through some shit. Please do not read below the cut if that would upset you or if right now you're just working through some shit and need to express yourself.

The emotional timbre of your post is valid, even if I wanna disagree with some points. You are allowed to feel hurt, to feel ignored, or to feel isolated. You are allowed to feel pain. I hope that working through that brings you peace.

It is so fucking sinister that the only form of child abuse that society really cares about is sexual in nature.

So. I understand your point? But I simply do not agree. Society recognises an enormous number of things as child abuse that do not, at all, include sexual abuse. However, sexual abuse is unique because it can never FAIL to be abusive. There is no amount of sexualising or sexual contact with a child that can be seen as acceptable by the overwhelming majority of our society. This means that, unlike the other ways that society recognises children can be abused, nobody can raise even a shadow of a doubt that a parent having sexual contact with their child is not abusive. It is ALWAYS abusive.

On the other hand... restricting a child's choices of foods, for example, can be non-abusive. If a 10-year-old wants to drink wine with daddy, then that kid's dad is considered to be abusive if he DOES NOT restrict that choice.

Restricting clothing choices can be the less abusive of two option: if a boy wants to go to school wearing shorts and T-shirt and won't take no for an answer even though it's snowing outside, his parents would be considered neglectful for NOT restricting that choice.

A 9-year-old girl who wants to take up gymnastics needs to be carefully monitored, and both her parents and her coach could be considered neglectful or abusive for driving her too hard when it could and sometimes does permanently damage bone structure. Australia has recently had a massive scandal over the Australian Institute of Sport (AIS) being alleged to have covered up cases of parents and coaches allowing children to make dangerous choices, or even encouraging or forcing children to make dangerous choices, regarding gymnastics. While sexual assault allegations are in there, the majority of the scandal is around parents and coaches who were physically and, importantly, emotionally abusing their children with respect to gymnastics at a young age, knowing that it would harm the children but allowing or encouraging it anyway. This is going to result in and has ALREADY resulted in criminal charges and even convictions for abuse. It is taken seriously.

Children can make bad choices in all sorts of ways. A parent is given wide latitude to control things like whether a child goes to a specific church in part because of organisations like the Jehovah's Witnesses, who a few years ago were sued for predatory conduct regarding children at a children's hospital here. They were banned from the hospital grounds or from being within line-of-sight of the hospital while preaching, and part of the issue was that they were predating children and using them to try to wedge their way into families at a young age during a time of strife and fear. Similarly, when a parent DOES go too far the other way, at least here in Australia the courts DO recognise that as abusive. Again using the Witnesses as an example, a Witness family took the government to court because a hospital wanted to force a blood transfusion on a 17-year-old boy with leukaemia and both he and the parents refused. The courts found that the boy had, essentially, been abused into his faith by his parents and that it wasn't a free and fair choice, so he was forced to get the transfusion until he turned 18 at which point he could make the call himself again - by which time, notably, he would be most likely cured. The family were found by the court to have been, basically, abusive, and their rights were removed as a result.

The problem is that kids are fucking idiots. That's by design: they're born knowing nothing and need to be taught everything. They have no understanding of how to make good choices and everything they are and have needs to be given to them over time. However, they do not learn it instantly: it is a process, and one that takes multiple decades to really get good at doing. Children are, therefore, going to attempt to make choices long before they are able to make GOOD choices, and so their carers NEED to be able to control those choices and deny them certain choices in order to keep them safe from themselves.

Kids will see a person claim to make caramel in the microwave by putting sugar and water in a bowl and leaving it on high for 15 minutes. This will, without a doubt, end badly. However, the child does not know that. They do not have the ABILITY to know that. Their parent NEEDS to be able to keep them safe from that.

However, in the process, they are restricting their child's free action, their child's food, their child's behaviours and movements, and may need to punish a child who repeatedly refuses to understand WHY they're being restricted and keeps trying to do it anyway. All those things that you see as abusive are, in this case, VITALLY important to keeping that kid alive and unburnt.

Unfortunately, the ways in which children can be incalculably stupid are similarly incalculable. As a result, parents need very wide latitude to control their children's behaviours and so the wiggle room needed to keep a kid safe is also enough to allow bad parents to abuse children. This does not mean abuse is "built into the system". It just means that there is no good system that can be designed that doesn't make abuse possible. It is not intentional and it is not "built in" - there's just no way to safely "build it out".

It is so fucking sinister that the only form of child abuse that society really cares about is sexual in nature. parents are free to control everything about their child's movement, presentation, eating, faith traditions, information exposure, socialization, and can restrict all of these things to an extreme degree as a form of punishment or in order to shape the child into whatever they want that child to be. and that's all considered completely normal, the parent's right! people don't even see the fact that a parent has the power to control so much about a child's life for damn near 20 years to be a problem. The only time they become concerned about child abuse is when the prospect of an outside stranger behaving in a sexual way toward a child is raised. and yeah a lot of really horrific sexual abuses are enacted unto children, but that's because they have zero control over their own lives and bodies in any other way as well. It is all about power and control. and typically the ones who are abusing children the most frequently are the ones who have the most control over them, the parents.

[novaursa]

A Lion's Folly (what remains)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the uncertain

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr @mrsnms @itisjustwhatitis @urdxrling @meowmeowmothermeower @nen-nyy

The council chamber of Casterly Rock was quiet, save for the occasional flick of parchment and the steady drip of candle wax pooling onto the polished wooden table. The air smelled of ink and old scrolls, of sealed letters from across Westeros, each carrying whispers of power, treachery, and war. The Lannister banners hung in solemn silence, watching over the gathered men as if the golden lions themselves were waiting to strike.

Jaime sat near the end of the long table, leaning back slightly in his chair, his golden hand resting atop the armrest while his left fingers idly tapped against the wood. His uncle Kevan was seated to his right, reviewing the latest reports from King’s Landing, his expression unreadable. Tywin sat at the head, his posture as rigid as ever, his eyes scanning the contents of a newly opened letter with keen precision.

The silence stretched before Tywin finally set the parchment down with deliberate care. His gaze flickering between the faces of those present before settling on Jaime.

“It appears that Lady Catelyn Stark is not as dead as we once believed.”

Jaime stilled, his fingers ceasing their idle tapping. A slow anxiety coiled in his chest, an unfamiliar weight pressing against his ribs.

Kevan frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Catelyn Stark?” He glanced at the letter. “That cannot be possible. We had word of her death from reliable sources.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened. “And yet the Riverlords rally behind her.”

Jaime exhaled, shaking his head. “What are they saying?”

Tywin picked up the letter again, his voice calm but edged with something dangerous. “She was found near the Trident, alive, though scarred beyond recognition. Her throat was cut, but somehow, she survived. Some claim dark magic, others believe she was merely lucky.” He set the parchment down again, his fingers tapping against it. “Regardless of how, the North and the Riverlands now believe she is the rightful Stark to lead them against the Boltons.”

Jaime leaned back. “And Roose?”

Tywin’s eyes darkened slightly. “Furious.”

Kevan nodded, rubbing his chin. “Without the full support of the North, Roose’s hold is not as strong as we had assumed. If the Riverlords begin to resist as well, we may have another war on our hands.”

Jaime scoffed. “The war never ended. You just picked a different victor.”

Tywin did not react to the remark. Instead, he turned his gaze back to Jaime. “This complicates matters.”

Jaime smirked faintly. “For Roose, yes.”

Tywin narrowed his eyes. “And for you.”

Jaime’s smirk faded.

Tywin leaned forward, folding his hands together. “Your wife is a Stark. Her loyalties, no matter how much she has suffered under our name, are not ours.”

Jaime clenched his jaw. He had known this would come up the moment Tywin mentioned Catelyn Stark.

Kevan exhaled. “She has been docile, from what I’ve seen. But if her mother is truly alive and fighting against Roose, she may attempt to use this opportunity.”

Jaime’s fingers tightened against the armrest. “She wouldn’t be foolish enough to act against us.”

Tywin raised a brow. “Wouldn’t she?”

Jaime’s throat tightened.

Would you?

Jaime had seen the shift in you over the past few moons. You were still cold to him, still sharp with your words, but there were moments—small, fleeting moments—where the walls had cracked, where you had softened, even if only slightly. The night two moons ago you had shared in his chambers had left something lingering between you, something unspoken but undeniable.

But this—this changed everything.

Tywin’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You need to secure your position, Jaime.”

Jaime turned his gaze to his father. “I thought I already had.”

Tywin’s expression was unreadable. “She carries no heir. You have given her time, and yet, she remains empty.”

Jaime frowns. “That’s not something I can control.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then ensure she sees reason. The longer this goes on, the more unstable your claim becomes.” He leaned back in his chair. “If she wavers in her loyalty, there will be no place for her here.”

Jaime stiffened.

The unspoken threat settled over the room like a blade waiting to fall.

Kevan sighed. “What of King’s Landing? What does Tommen say on the matter?”

Tywin barely spared him a glance. “Tommen says what I tell him to say.”

Jaime scoffed under his breath.

Tywin ignored it. “For now, we continue as planned. Roose has already been sent word that our support remains, but if the Riverlords continue to rally, we may need to reconsider our strategy.”

Kevan nodded. “And the Freys?”

Tywin’s expression remained cold. “They will do as they are told.”

Jaime ran a hand down his face.

Catelyn Stark was alive.

And the world had just shifted beneath them.

He didn’t know what this meant for Roose, or for the war that would inevitably rise from this revelation, but he knew one thing for certain—

You would not take this news lightly.

Jaime stood, the weight of the conversation settling in his bones.

Tywin watched him carefully. “Where are you going?”

Jaime met his father’s gaze. “To speak with my wife.”

Tywin tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “And what will you tell her?”

Jaime exhaled slowly.

He had no idea.

So he simply said, “The truth.”

Then he turned and left the council chamber, his mind already racing with what was to come.

The sun was high in the sky and the sea breeze wafted through the open archways, carrying the scent of salt and the distant cry of gulls. The keep was alive with the quiet hum of servants tending to their duties, nobles conversing in the halls, and the ever-present clang of metal from the training yards below.

Jaime found you in the western courtyard, seated beneath a marble archway draped in ivy, your hands folded neatly in your lap. Across from you sat Lady Dorna. She had been one of the few within Casterly Rock who had treated you with something close to kindness, offering conversation when others only offered wary glances. She spoke softly, though Jaime couldn’t hear what was being said, her expression one of gentle amusement.

Winter lay stretched at your feet, his silver-white fur catching the light, his piercing blue eyes half-lidded as he basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He twitched his ears when Jaime approached, but otherwise made no move. He was always watching.

You noticed Jaime’s presence before he spoke, your body tensing just slightly as you turned your head to acknowledge him. Your gaze flickered over him, assessing, before returning to Lady Dorna.

Jaime inhaled, stopping a few paces away. “Lady Dorna,” he greeted, his tone polite but carrying an unmistakable edge of urgency.

Dorna, always perceptive, studied him for a brief moment before turning to you. “It seems your husband requires a private word.”

You shifted, something unreadable passing over your expression before you nodded. Dorna stood, smoothing out the folds of her gown. “We will speak again later, my dear.” She offered Jaime a brief glance before departing, her presence fading down the corridor like a ghost.

Jaime took her empty seat across from you, resting his golden hand against the edge of the marble table. He studied you for a moment, his lips pressing together slightly before he finally spoke.

“There’s news from the Riverlands.”

You lifted a brow, feigning indifference. “What of it?”

Jaime exhaled, choosing his words carefully. “Your mother. She’s alive.”

Your entire body went still.

The soft breeze that had once stirred your hair now seemed nonexistent, the warmth of the afternoon sun suddenly gone. Jaime watched as your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your gown, your nails pressing into the fine silk.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You blinked once, twice, as though trying to process the weight of what he had just said.

Then, finally, your voice—soft, disbelieving. “That’s not possible.”

Jaime leaned forward slightly, his golden hand glinting in the light. “It is. She survived. She’s at the Trident, gathering support.”

Your breath came unevenly, your chest rising and falling in shallow movements. “How do you know this?”

Jaime hesitated before answering. “My father received word. The Riverlords are rallying behind her.”

Your hands curled into fists now, the tremor in them barely noticeable—but Jaime noticed. He always noticed.

You inhaled sharply, your voice shaking with something raw. “Why are you telling me this?”

Jaime studied you, his throat tightening. “Because you deserve to know.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and unyielding.

Then, finally, you whispered, “And what happens now?”

Jaime swallowed. “That depends.”

Your gaze snapped to his, cutting as a blade. “On what?”

Jaime exhaled slowly, dragging his fingers across the stone table. “On where your loyalties lie.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “You think I would betray you.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched. “I think you would do anything to have your family back.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time since the conversation began, you looked away.

Jaime ran a hand down his face. “That’s not why I came here.”

You turned back to him, your brows knitting together. “Then why?”

Jaime hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “We need to speak about children.”

Your expression darkened instantly. “I think not.”

Jaime let out a slow breath, already anticipating your resistance. “You know as well as I do that my father is running out of patience.”

You scoffed, your hands tightening into fists. “Then let him stew in his impatience.”

Jaime’s grip on the edge of the table tightened slightly. “You don’t understand, Y/N. He’s already looking for alternatives.”

Your gaze narrowed. “Alternatives?”

Jaime exhaled. “If you don’t give him a Lannister heir, he will find another way to secure his legacy.”

Your jaw clenched. “I will not be forced into bearing a child for your father’s ambitions.”

Jaime’s throat tightened at your words, at the way you phrased it—not a child for yourself, not even a child for him, but a child for Tywin.

And that was the difference, wasn’t it?

Jaime leaned forward, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not my father.”

You stared at him, your expression unreadable.

Jaime was silent for a moment. “I know you don’t love me. I know you never wanted this. But maybe—” He hesitated, his fingers flexing against the table. “Maybe a child would bring you something you do want.”

Your brows furrowed. “And what is that?”

Jaime exhaled, watching you carefully. “Comfort. Purpose. A reason to move forward, no matter how you feel about me.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Jaime continued, his voice softer now. “You’ve lost everything. Maybe this—we—can give you something back.”

The silence between you was thick, suffocating.

Finally, you pushed back from the table, your chair scraping against the stone. “I need time.”

Jaime studied you for a moment before nodding slowly. “Then take it.”

You didn’t look at him as you turned away, your steps brisk as you disappeared down the corridor, Winter rising to his feet and following closely behind.

Jaime exhaled, his heart heavy with something he didn’t quite understand.

Because he had realized something terrifying.

This wasn’t just about duty anymore.

He wanted this.

With you.

The corridors of Casterly Rock stretched endlessly, the cold stone walls polished by centuries of Lannister rule. You walked aimlessly, Winter padding silently at your side, his massive silver-white form a constant shadow against the flickering torchlight. His ears twitched at every distant sound, his eyes ever watchful, yet he did not leave your side—not even when you stopped at an open terrace, pressing your hands against the cool railing.

The sea stretched far below, waves crashing against the jagged cliffs, the scent of salt thick in the air. The sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon, casting the sky in hues of amber and crimson. It was beautiful in its own way, this place—the ancestral seat of the lions, carved into the very bones of the rock. But it would never be home.

You let out a slow breath, your fingers tightening against the stone. Jaime’s words still lingered, clinging to your thoughts like cobwebs you couldn’t brush away.

"Maybe a child would bring you something you do want. Comfort. Purpose."

A child. His child. A Lannister child.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. What had he expected? That you would simply forget everything and welcome the idea of tying yourself permanently to this house, to him? That bearing an heir to Casterly Rock would somehow make you accept this fate?

You felt a bitter laugh rise in your throat but swallowed it down.

Winter nudged your leg gently with his nose, sensing your unrest. You glanced down, your fingers instinctively curling into his thick fur.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Winter let out a soft huff, leaning into your touch, his tail flicking lazily. He did not understand words, but he understood you. Understood the way your heart clenched at the thought of your mother still alive, somewhere far from here.

You closed your eyes. Your mother was alive.

That was the one truth that had shaken you to your core.

She was out there, beyond the Trident, gathering support, fighting against the Boltons, against the ones who had taken everything from you. And you? You were trapped here, draped in Lannister gold, bound to the very family that had orchestrated your brother’s death and crippled the other.

You let out a slow breath.

What would she think if she saw you now?

Would she still look at you with love in her eyes, or would she see you as a traitor, a woman who had allowed herself to be conquered, her vows stolen in the same breath as her family’s lives?

You gritted your teeth, pressing your forehead against Winter’s fur. I should be with her. Not here. Not like this.

But what could you do? If you so much as hinted at escape, Tywin would tighten his grip. And Jaime…

Jaime.

Your mind started circling back to him no matter how much you willed it not to. His words had not been laced with malice, nor had they been a demand. There had been something else in his tone—something softer, something uncertain.

He had meant what he said. He wanted this.

And that terrified you more than anything else.

Because despite everything, despite your hatred, despite the weight of your grief, there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when you felt yourself wavering.

You hated what he did. You hated what he represented.

But you had seen the way he looked at you, the way his touch lingered just a second too long, the way his voice softened when he spoke your name.

And worse?

You weren’t sure if you hated it as much as you should.

Winter let out a low grumble, shifting slightly, as if sensing your inner turmoil.

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temple. “What am I supposed to do, Winter?”

The direwolf said nothing, only watching you with those knowing blue eyes.

Your mother was alive.

Jaime wanted an heir.

Tywin’s patience was running out.

And you? You were still lost, caught between past and future, between grief and duty, between a war you could no longer fight and a marriage you could no longer ignore.

You had spent moons resisting.

But the question that clawed at your chest now was far more terrifying than any of that.

Did you want to resist anymore?

You let out a slow, shuddering breath, gripping Winter’s fur tightly.

Because you didn’t know the answer.

And that, more than anything else, was what truly frightened you.

The great hall of Lannisport was alive with the low murmur of voices, the clinking of goblets, and the crackling of the grand hearths that lined the walls. The banners of the Westerlands hung proudly from the rafters, the golden lion of House Lannister dominating the chamber, while smaller sigils of their sworn bannermen decorated the space in a quiet but firm declaration of allegiance.

You sat at the long feasting table, your position unmistakable—beside Jaime, with Tywin at the head of the table and Kevan to his right. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and the distant salt of the harbor beyond the castle walls. The city of Lannisport, the jewel of the Westerlands, buzzed with activity even as the sun began to dip into the sea, the evening celebrations meant to welcome the gathered lords before the true matters of war were discussed.

You listened, but you did not speak much.

The wives of the Lannister bannermen sat with you, adorned in fine silks and delicate jewelry, their conversations flowing with practiced ease. Lady Brax was to your left, a woman whose sharp tongue did not seem to match her soft features, while Lady Marbrand sat across from you, idly toying with the rim of her goblet as she engaged in quiet gossip with the others.

“I do wish they would simply rid us of the Blackfish already,” Lady Marbrand sighed, tapping her fingers against the table. “The Riverlands have always been a mess of unruly houses. It’s only natural that they resist.”

Lady Brax scoffed. “They resist because they’re desperate. It’s pathetic, really. The Freys were supposed to handle this months ago.” She turned toward you then, her dark eyes glinting with interest. “And what do you think, Lady Lannister?”

The title still sat uncomfortably against your skin, but you did not react outwardly. You lifted your goblet to your lips, allowing yourself a measured sip before setting it down.

“I think the Riverlands have never been easily tamed,” you said evenly. “Nor have the Tullys.”

Lady Marbrand arched a brow. “You say that as though it’s a good thing.”

You glanced at her, tilting your head slightly. “I say that because it is the truth.”

Lady Brax let out a light chuckle, shaking her head. “Spoken like a Stark.”

Jaime, who had been silently listening to the conversation, finally spoke, his voice carrying just enough weight to command attention. “She’s not wrong,” he said, swirling the wine in his goblet. “The Blackfish has always been a thorn in my father’s side. The man fights as though he has nothing left to lose. That makes him dangerous.”

Lady Marbrand hummed, her eyes flickering toward the high table where Tywin sat, deep in conversation with the gathered lords. “And that is why we are here, I assume? To prepare for the final push?”

Kevan Lannister, who had been listening quietly beside his brother, finally nodded. “Lord Frey’s failure at Riverrun has been an inconvenience, but nothing that cannot be rectified. The Blackfish cannot hold the castle forever. Lord Emmon Frey still holds the claim we gave to him, and with Lannister support, the siege will end sooner rather than later.”

You felt something tighten in your chest at those words.

Riverrun. The last stronghold of your mother’s bloodline. The Blackfish was the only one left resisting, and soon, he too would be crushed beneath the weight of Lannister and Frey forces.

You forced your fingers to remain steady against your goblet, even as your stomach coiled with unease.

Jaime studied you from the corner of his eye, but he said nothing.

The conversation shifted then, moving away from the war and onto lighter subjects—Lannisport’s growing trade, the recent feasts held in honor of the Westerland lords, the inevitable marriages that would be arranged for their children.

But you barely heard it.

Your mind was still in the Riverlands, with the Blackfish, with your mother.

Would she push forward? Would she try to reach Riverrun?

Or had she already moved elsewhere, waiting for her moment to strike?

You had no answers.

Only the unsettling realization that no matter where your mother was, she was still out there.

Fighting.

And you?

You were here, in the lion’s den, drinking their wine and wearing their colors.

You swallowed hard, pressing your nails into your palm beneath the table.

Jaime’s voice broke through your thoughts, his tone low but deliberate.

“You’re quiet.”

You turned to him, your expression carefully neutral. “Should I not be?”

Jaime studied you, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Then, quietly, he murmured, “Not like this.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but before you could respond, a servant approached Tywin’s seat, whispering something into his ear.

Tywin’s expression did not change, but the atmosphere in the hall shifted.

Jaime noticed it instantly, his posture straightening.

You saw it too.

Something was happening.

And whatever it was, it was important enough to momentarily halt the festivities.

The murmur of conversation in the hall grew softer, the shift in atmosphere noticeable even among the noblewomen seated near you. Tywin Lannister had always commanded authority, but now, as the servant whispered something into his ear, the weight of his presence seemed even heavier. Without a word, he straightened, casting a glance toward Kevan, who immediately understood the unspoken order.

Kevan rose, his voice carrying over the gathered lords. “The Warden of the West calls his bannermen to council. We shall convene in the solar immediately.”

A rustle of movement followed. Lords and knights, all sworn to House Lannister, rose from their seats, murmuring amongst themselves as they prepared to depart. The feast was not entirely abandoned, but the mood had shifted; where once there had been casual conversation, there was now an undercurrent of tension.

Jaime remained seated beside you, his gaze lingering on your face rather than the men around him. He did not move to follow the others immediately. Instead, he leaned slightly closer, his voice lowering so that only you could hear.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he murmured, his fingers reaching for yours beneath the table.

Your body stiffened slightly at the unexpected touch, but you did not pull away. Instead, you exhaled slowly, composing yourself before meeting his gaze. “I’ve just heard my family’s last hope is being smothered under Lannister banners. Should I celebrate?”

Jaime sighed, his fingers brushing against yours. “It was always going to happen.”

Your jaw clenched. “Perhaps.” You turned your head slightly, watching as the last of the bannermen departed the hall. “But that does not mean I have to accept it.”

Jaime studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate care, he lifted your hand, pressing a warm kiss against your knuckles. The action was so gentle, so intimate, that you almost forgot where you were.

“I know what this means to you,” he said quietly. “I know that you still dream of them. That you still wake in the night wondering what could have been different.” His thumb traced along the back of your hand, slow and deliberate. “But there is nothing you can do now. The Blackfish is alone. He cannot hold Riverrun forever.”

You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump rising in your throat. “And my mother?”

Jaime’s eyes darkened slightly. “She’s out there, rallying men.” He tilted his head, studying your face. “If she marches toward the Riverlands, she will not be alone for long.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. You knew what he meant. This was not just about Riverrun anymore. This was about the North, the Riverlands, about the pieces of a shattered kingdom still shifting, trying to find their way back together.

Jaime sighed, pressing another soft kiss against your fingers before finally releasing your hand. “I have to go.”

You nodded stiffly, looking away. “Of course.”

Jaime hesitated for a moment longer, as if searching for something else to say. Then, with one last glance, he rose to his feet and left the hall, his crimson cloak trailing behind him.

You watched him go, your heart a tangled mess of emotions you didn’t quite know how to name.

Winter nudged your leg beneath the table, his cold nose pressing against your skin.

You exhaled slowly, reaching down to scratch behind his ear. “I know, boy,” you whispered, your gaze lingering on the door Jaime had disappeared through.

Something was shifting.

You could feel it.

And you weren’t sure if that terrified you or thrilled you.

The solar was filled with the murmurs of Westerland lords when Jaime entered, the heavy oak doors closing behind him with a dull thud. A large map of the Riverlands was spread across the long table, markers placed meticulously over key locations—Riverrun, the Twins, Harrenhal, and the Trident. Several cups of wine had already been poured, though few had been touched. This was not a gathering for feasting but for strategy, and the weight of it pressed over the chamber like a storm cloud.

Tywin stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding as always, his fingers resting lightly on the map. Kevan stood to his right, speaking quietly with Lord Brax, while other bannermen of the Westerlands—Lords Crakehall, Lefford, and Westerling—stood in various states of discussion.

Jaime stepped forward. “You summoned me,” he said, his voice casual, but he knew better than to assume this meeting was anything but grave.

Tywin barely looked up. “You took your time.”

Jaime smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Forgive me, Father. I was ensuring my wife didn’t stab me in my sleep for this latest betrayal.”

A few of the lords exchanged wary glances, unsure if they should react to the remark.

Tywin, however, remained unamused. “Sit.”

Jaime did, lowering himself into the chair beside Kevan. His uncle shot him a brief look before turning back to the conversation at hand.

Lord Crakehall cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “We received word from our informants in the Riverlands. Riverrun still holds, though the Blackfish refuses all terms of surrender. The Freys are growing restless, and their men are undisciplined.”

Jaime snorted, reaching for the goblet before him but not yet drinking. “The Freys have always been undisciplined.”

Kevan sighed. “Regardless, they are still the rightful lords of the castle by our decree.”

Jaime leaned back, fingers tapping against the wood. “And how does that help us? The Blackfish will never bow to a Frey, not after what happened with Robb.” His eyes flickered toward the map, toward Riverrun’s mark. “If we press them too soon, he’ll hold the walls indefinitely. They have provisions to last a siege for moons.”

Tywin finally lifted his gaze, his sharp eyes settling on Jaime. “Then we do not wait for them to starve. We take it by force.”

Jaime studied his father carefully. “And how do you propose we do that? Send another Frey to beg at the gates? He’ll throw the man in the river and send him back bloated.”

Tywin’s expression did not change. “That is where you come in.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, already feeling the weight of what was coming. “You want me to take Riverrun.”

Tywin nodded. “You are the next Warden of the West. This is your war now.”

Jaime scoffed, shaking his head. “I doubt the Riverlords will see it that way.”

Lord Lefford, who had been silent for most of the conversation, finally spoke. “With all due respect, Lord Jaime, the Riverlands are not a kingdom unto themselves anymore. They belong to the Iron Throne.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened slightly. The Iron Throne. Tommen’s throne.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “And how many men do I have at my disposal?”

Kevan turned toward him, his face carefully neutral. “Enough.”

Jaime frowned. He did not like vague answers when it came to war.

Tywin watched him closely. “This will be your first true campaign as heir to Casterly Rock. I expect results.”

Jaime looked at the map again, tracing his fingers over the Riverlands. “And if the Blackfish doesn’t surrender?”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then you put him down.”

Jaime clenched his jaw, his mind flickering back to your face, to the way your breath had hitched when he told you about Riverrun’s fate. To the way your hands had curled against the fabric of your gown as you listened to the lords speak so casually of ending your last living kin in the Riverlands.

He sighed. “And my wife?”

Tywin’s brow twitched slightly, as if he found the question tiresome. “She remains here. With child or without, she is your wife, and her place is at Casterly Rock.”

Jaime smirked faintly, though there was little humor behind it. “And you don’t think she’ll object to that?”

Tywin was unmoved. “She is a Stark, but she is no fool. She will not act against her own interests.”

Jaime exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “You give her too much credit.”

Kevan shifted, folding his hands before him. “She may despise us, but she is still bound to you, Jaime. And she knows the consequences of betrayal.”

Jaime’s fingers curled into a fist against the table, but he said nothing.

Tywin straightened, his voice final. “You will leave for Riverrun within the fortnight. This war must be ended before bad weather sets in.”

Jaime glanced at the map once more.

Riverrun. The Blackfish. The last stand of House Tully.

And you.

He knew what this would do to you.

And he had no idea if you would ever forgive him for it.

[rosy-hollow]

Your husband, Sukuna, is a menace—but he can't say no to your even bigger menace of a daughter.

He already can't say no to you—the absolute sweetheart he had fallen deeply for—so how could he stand a chance against his five-year-old daughter, who looked so much like you yet had the wrath and fury to make even hell freeze over?

It’s Yuna’s first day of kindergarten, and you and your husband have already been called to the school because of your girl's… behavioral issues.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. and Mrs. Sukuna. I, uh… as you’ve heard, Yuna has been acting disruptively in school today. We’ll have to send her home due to her actions, but I sincerely hope this doesn’t happen again."

Underneath the table, your hand finds your husband's reassuringly, squeezing it to let him know you'd handle this.

"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir... but may I know the details of what happened first?" you ask politely, maintaining a calm facade. And if the two of you weren’t talking to your daughter's school principal, Sukuna would’ve kissed you right then and there—because the moment he opened his mouth, he’d probably have a restraining order filed against him in every country.

Despite your calm demeanor, though, you were practically seething.

You knew your daughter. Yes, she had quite a temper, but to act up in such a way that caused a scene? That didn’t sound like her. And if she really had, then something serious must've happened.

The principal nods, sighing bitterly. "Apparently, there was a squabble between your daughter and another boy on the playground… He ended up with a tooth knocked out in the end."

You blink, taken aback, frowning.

Your daughter, though prone to getting angry, would never resort to violence. You and your husband raised her better than that.

Your blood simmers slightly as you take in the principal’s disdainful expression and condescending tone. You want to punch it off his face—but you don’t, much to your own chagrin.

Your husband is squeezing your hand so hard it feels like your bones might snap, but you still rub your thumb comfortingly against his knuckles.

"May I speak to my daughter? Though this behavior is unacceptable, this doesn’t sound like her at all," you say, and the principal sighs, nodding.

"Yes, but please make it quick."

You nod, mentally flipping the man off, before exiting the room with your furious husband in tow.

There, just outside, sits your daughter—wide red eyes filled with tears.

"I-I’m sorry, Mommy..." she whimpers softly, and something inside you breaks as you rush forward to envelop her in your arms.

It takes everything in you not to hunt down the people who reduced your loving daughter to this mess. And you're sure your husband isn’t doing any better—years and years of therapy doing everything it can to keep his rage at bay.

"H-He said my eyes m-made me look l-like a m-m-monster, and t-then he pushed me, and so I just pushed him back, and then he tripped over his shoelaces and his t-tooth fell out—"

Yuna is full-on sobbing now, and you freeze, holding her tightly.

Wordlessly, you pick up the small five-year-old and hand her to your husband, a glint in your eye. Sukuna stiffens, swallowing hard. His grip on Yuna tightens slightly as he watches you storm inside.

He’s only seen you mad maybe four times in your ten years of marriage—if Yuna could freeze hell over when she was angry, then you were the devil incarnate herself.

You reenter the principal’s office, slamming the door behind you. Sukuna decides to be a smart dad and take his daughter down the hall, avoiding what is definitely about to be verbal homicide.

When you finally exit the room, there's an eerily peaceful look on your face. Casually, you dust off your shirt, approaching your husband and daughter with a warm smile.

Sukuna and Yuna exchange uneasy glances.

"So~ who wants ice cream?"

Yuna’s not uneasy anymore.

Sukuna sighs.

He loves his two girls more than anything in the world—he never, ever would have pictured himself being the calmer one in the relationship, but you never ceased to prove him wrong.

That’s what he loved about you, though.

A/N: i love when beefy men are down bad for me (this has never happened)

[toa-archive]

Bellroc design path

As per Anon request there's going to be three posts regarding the Arcane Order consisting of any and all concept art we have of them. As ever with these it is far from impossible something else will belatedly turn up. Should this occur (And in this specific case would not be surprised), wherever it is added will have a [/edit xx/xx/xxxx] which includes a date marker. Just makes it easier to find the "new" thing :)

Also per Anon request we're starting with Bellroc! As a fun bonus fact, the voice meandering from masc to femme is both really cool and a Angel of Death from Hellboy reference. Particularly in this climate, we support non-binary they/them wrongs. So let's get to it!

First up is some initial concepts from Yingjue Chen! While this was originally figuring out Nari and thus forest themed, the left most one was repurposed into a fire wizard. Never went any further of course but still very neat to see how just changing some shapes and adding colour make something fresh from old ideas.

Source

Francisco Ruiz Velasco had his own stab at a bunch of wizards which are nigh impossible to pin down if it was for any of the Arcane Trio specifically or not. Still important to include tho :) This one will very understandably appear in all three.

Source goes to Linkedin so may require an account.

Then seemingly all of a sudden Bellroc as we know them pops up, also by Francisco Ruiz Velasco, who would finalise their design. This is a crop from a height chart shown during the Art of Wizards panel and when you compare it to the artwork below (Also from the panel), they do seem to get tightened up considerably.

Now this was uploaded outside the panel as well, which is great as can see it at a decent size, though does lacks one sketch and the specifics of their eyes. It's very possible that someone else drew/painted those though who if that is the case is currently unknown.

Source

The next one to appear is their texture markup by Isaac Orloff! This is an absolute goldmine for your reference needs, particularly all their little details.

Source

Decided to add a trio of bonuses just for fun. You might have noticed the Order pops up in the Wizards credits sequence though unlike Trollhunters and 3Below, it is not Headless Studios. They were drawn in a similar way though! They are by Alison Donato.

Source

Ivan Gozali, who boarded on Wizards, had a bunch of Bellroc sketches on his website which were likely related to boards he may have done that are not public. Sadly, said sketches suddenly vanished one day and to date only one of these has been recovered. This is a good a time as any to show it.

This is also a great excuse to yet again break out Francisco Ruiz Velasco's Order band poster again! In part due to them only appearing in colour keys for RotT otherwise. Well, there's one exception but want to save it for it's own post...

Source goes to Linkedin so may require an account.

Can't forget Bellroc's staff! Presumably it was modeled after Fruiz's design as Alison Donato mentions her texture work here was painted over a blank. Unlike the other two which do have 2D reference art for the design, it's not been seen publicly at this time.

Source

On the more magical front there is a tiny screenshot from the Art of Wizards panel which shows the magic effects for Bellroc. It is unknown who the right two images belong to however -

We do have a bigger version of the left image which we know is by Yingjue Chen! Aren't effects neat?

Source

Poking Rise of the Titans a moment, thanks to Andy Murray we have the glow up eye effect for Bellroc. This has been cropped from a larger image for fitting this post reasons only. Have to scroll back up for the Wizards version!

Source

And for fun since we also have it, this is the Arcane Circle for Bellroc which is shown on the Fire Titan including the Genesis Seal marker. As above it has been cropped for fitting this post reasons only. This time they are by Sean Wang.

Source

To close up a fun little tidbit! Thanks to Bianca Siercke we have the temporary name for Bellroc before they became, well, Bellroc. It was Belrog!

Source

When all three posts are up there will be a link here to the other two members. For now it is a placeholder:

Bellroc - Nari - Skrael

Anon if you could say who you would like next will appreciate it~

[mote-of-ash]

Been thinking about the little radio outpost living quarters situation she has and her small collection of fiction novels. How shes in constant radio contact with a sparse network of other alkrs and they all have callsigns either inherited or designated by others. Frequent repair jobs on both herself and the station since supply drop offs are few and far between. Dreams she has from years of distant scattered broadcasts intercepted both intentionally and unintentionally. Eventually she may in the last years of her life wander off into the arctic wastes to never be recovered or seen again. She'll beam one last goodnight out onto the world and worlds beyond.

signalis bunnygirl.

i am once again romanticizing the idea of operating a remote radio outpost.

[chimuelo2005-blog]

More yapping about Jayce and his relationship with Viktor and Mel cause why not?

One of the most interesting things about Jayce’s character arc is how Mel and Viktor act as these two opposing forces in his life; both guiding him, both shaping him, but in very different ways. Mel represents power, ambition, legacy, the political weight of Hextech and everything it could be. Viktor represents innovation, raw intellect, and the heart of why Hextech even exists in the first place. Jayce is caught between them, constantly being pulled in two directions.

Mel teaches Jayce how to navigate Piltover, how to gain and control his power instead of letting it control him. She gives him the tools to actually use Hextech as more than just an invention— turn it into something that changes the world. Without her, he never would’ve made it onto the council, never would’ve learned how to play politics, never would’ve become the leader Piltover needed. But at the end of the day? Jayce was never truly Mel’s.

Because no matter how much Mel shapes him, no matter how much power she hands him, Jayce’s first and strongest connection is always Viktor. His first choice is always Viktor. Viktor is the reason Hextech exists. Viktor is the reason Jayce even believes in progress in the first place. And you see it in the way Jayce prioritizes him over and over again.

Mel offers Jayce power, and yeah, he takes it—but he hesitates. He falters. With Viktor? There’s no hesitation. Jayce is willing to risk everything for Viktor in a way he never does for Mel. Like, when Viktor starts slipping away, Jayce drops everything. He stops caring about politics, about his reputation, about the carefully constructed path Mel laid out for him. The second Viktor needs him, that’s it. He’s done playing the game. He’s ready to throw away everything if it means saving him. Mel is an influence in his life. Viktor is his foundation.

And what’s really sad about all of this is that Mel knows. She sees it. She knows that at the end of the day, she’s teaching Jayce how to be powerful, but Viktor is the one who actually owns his heart. She sees how quickly Jayce pulls away from her when Viktor starts getting worse, how his priorities shift without a second thought. She spent the entire second part of the show shaping Jayce into a leader, a politician, a visionary—but the second Viktor is in danger, Jayce doesn’t care about any of that. He only cares about him.

Mel may have given Jayce power, but Viktor is the only person he was ever willing to lose that power for. Mel was the one who taught Jayce how to build an empire. But Viktor? Viktor is the one thing that could make him burn it all down.

And that says everything about Jayce.

I've seen some people in the reblogs make good points I missed while making the post, so I'll add them here.

This post is about jayce's perception or what I think his perception is based on his actions. Once said that: No, Mel is not the black girlfriend, that's a huge disrespect of her character, she's a powerful, intelligent woman with complexities and flaws that go far beyond some guy.

I agree that Jayce loved Mel, to a certain point. His favoritism towards Viktor is not even conscious most of the time. He obviously loved and cared for her, if he didn't they wouldn't have been together. My point is that he loved her in a way that would never be matched to the way he loves Viktor, and that's ok. They are two separate people, it's obvious Jayce won't love them the same.

While writing the script, I believe the writers made their relationship to put Jayce between a rock and a hard place at times. Mel is progress, she's powerful, beautiful, kind, She symbolizes everything Jayce wants to achieve (talking about her symbolism in jayce's character, not her own character) . Viktor is his foundation, he's beginning, he's the constant in his life even before he knew it. That's what I mean by saying Jayce was never fully Mel's.

I agree that as a fandom we don't talk enough about characters individually, but I firmly believe that there are characters that you need to talk about while talking about others. You cannot really talk deeply about Mel without talking about her mom, her brother and so on.

I love my girl Mel and I will yap about her soon because she's just too pretty and interesting not to.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept: Sally meeting Jason would’ve been nice for many reasons.

Jason doesn’t have a parent and arguably never has. It would’ve been sweet to see him gain some semblance of that.

But there’s also just how much the two of them are alike.

Sally is a kind, caring woman but she was not raised in a loving environment. She lost her parents young and lived with her uncle.

But essentially raised herself and put her dreams on hold to be his caretaker.

And then put them on hold again to raise Percy with a man who treated her and him with nothing but cruelty.

I think she’d see parts of herself in Jason who was also forced to grow up alone. To harden his heart when by nature he’s soft and kind soul.

Jason who has always put the needs of others above his own. He sacrificed a better life in the 1st cohort to uplift and fight for the 5th.

And all that good will was never enough for anyone to care about finding him.

Sally in many ways is seen as perfection.

She is the woman Poseidon wanted to make his queen. She is super mum, kind and endlessly compassionate and patient to others. Opening her door to her son’s friends, helping them in anyway she can.

And Jason is also seen by others as being perfect. Often in a “he’s too perfect” sense where people see him as unreachable. He’s blonde superman, the perfect son of Jupiter that always knows what’s to say and do.

Neither of them are perfect but that’s how they’re perceived. They carry hardships but do so in a way no one ever quite sees.

I can just see Jason using a line to how he feels and Sally knowing immediately he’s not. Because she’s used that exact same line.

Sally who can’t approach Jason the same as how she does the rest of Percy’s friends. This one, is almost like talking to herself.

A younger version, one who’s lead a life she can only hope to truly comprehend one day. And yet, still so similar to the girl she once was.

She wonders if he had a dream like she did that she put up on a shelf to play her role. A dream she has only recently been able to realise.

Maybe it hits her how young he actually is. Maybe it hits her how young she was.

Maybe she whispers to Percy to keep an eye on that boy who may not be her.

But he has her eyes.

[pixiecactus]

Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. "I know which end to use," Arya said. A doubtful look crossed her face. "Septa Mordane will take it away from me."

.

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.

.

"Sometimes I dream about it," he said. "I'm walking down this long empty hall. My voice echoes all around, but no one answers, so I walk faster, opening doors, shouting names. I don't even know who I'm looking for. Most nights it's my father, but sometimes it's Robb instead, or my little sister Arya, or my uncle." The thought of Benjen Stark saddened him; his uncle was still missing.

.

"He's frightened. We're leaving him." He remembered the day he had left Winterfell, all the bittersweet farewells; Bran lying broken, Robb with snow in his hair, Arya raining kisses on him after he'd given her Needle.

.

"They were as close as brothers, once." Jon wondered if Joffrey would keep his father as the King's Hand. It did not seem likely. That might mean Lord Eddard would return to Winterfell, and his sisters as well. He might even be allowed to visit them, with Lord Mormont's permission. It would be good to see Arya's grin again and to talk with his father. I will ask him about my mother, he resolved. I am a man now, it is past time he told me. Even if she was a whore, I don't care, I want to know.

.

Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran … forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. "I am … yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again."

.

As he rode, Jon peeled off his glove to air his burned fingers. Ugly things. He remembered suddenly how he used to muss Arya's hair. His little stick of a sister. He wondered how she was faring. It made him a little sad to think that he might never muss her hair again. He began to flex his hand, opening and closing the fingers. If he let his sword hand stiffen and grow clumsy, it well might be the end of him, he knew. A man needed his sword beyond the Wall.

.

May those deaths be long in coming. Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.

.

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.

he just loves her so much, thank you for your existence in arya's life, jon snow.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello mods! I’m looking for any fics about or including moments where Aziraphale accidentally falls asleep around Crowley? A cat nap on the couch or in the Bentley, that sort of thing. Preferably with some pining on Crowley’s end or at least before any sort of established relationship. Thank you for the help!!

We have fics about Aziraphale and sleep here and here. Here are some fics where he falls asleep...

Sit Around and Dream by his_infinitevariety (G)

Crowley may or may not catch Aziraphale sleeping.

Counterpoint by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

When Aziraphale is injured during a raid on a monastery, he’s unable to focus enough to heal the injuries. Crowley offers to help, but Aziraphale is suspicious. Can he trust a demon?

As If By Divine Ordinance by vir_adahlenn (G)

Aziraphale falls asleep on Crowley's couch. Yearning ensues.

It Is Written (In The Smile On Your Face, My Beloved) by Angel_made_of_stars (G)

There is an unspoken bond. A bond very seldom kept unbroken. Something the angel and the demon had toed the line of before. But that meant nothing, when faced with the question. What will you do when it is shown? AKA: Aziraphale falls asleep in Crowley’s car, going a full one hundred, and he has never seen more trust shown. Maybe it’s time he trusts a sleeping angel with his confessions.

you fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time (but that's okay, I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine) by midnightdragons (G)

Crowley sighed tiredly, patting the Bentley's dashboard and smoothing a hand over it. She revved her engine at him, the tiniest hum – she sounded almost smug (at least, as smug as a car can be), and Crowley frowned disapprovingly. “Shaddup,” he mumbled, reddening all the way to the tips of his ears. “Even angels gotta rest, I guess. Don’t wanna piss ‘im off by drivin’ too fast, y’know?” The Bentley hummed again, as if saying: when have you ever cared about that before, you old sap? Crowley doggedly ignored her in favor of glancing towards Aziraphale once more, a smile threatening to tug at the corners of his mouth once more at the sight of the sleeping angel. He looked so at peace, so relaxed, and . . . and so trusting. It made the place where his heart should be utterly ache.

Aziraphale falls asleep in the Bentley, and Crowley begrudgingly gives up his favorite pastime of violating traffic laws and breaking the sound barrier with Queen music to allow him to rest.

Apostraphe and Somniloquy by cyankelpie (G)

Exhausted by all the excitement with the church and the Nazis, Aziraphale falls asleep mid-conversation. Crowley talks to him while he sleeps. To his surprise, Aziraphale talks back.

- Mod D

[da-extroverted-introvert]

Are we even friends? (tasm!Peter Parker x reader)

Fandom: The Amazing Spider-Man, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2.66k

Warnings: angst, death mention, grief

So I had a burst of inspiration and wrote this. I haven't seen the Andrew Garfield Spiderman movies in a hot minute so things may not be entirely accurate but please just roll with it. Working on a part 2 already, hope you enjoy. Please leave feedback!

Dividers by @lavendergalactic

Despite the gnawing feeling deep in your gut, you bring yourself to unbuckle your seat belt and walk out of the car.

You sit in the car and take a few deep breaths. You clutch the bouquet of flowers in your hand, trying to will yourself to step foot out of the car. Even after three months, this is hard to do. It’s like the first time all over again. The grief hits you just as hard as the day of the funeral.

You walk through the long, long aisle of headstones and grave markers. A bunch of people long gone who you’ll never know. It breaks your heart to know that to other people visiting loved ones, Gwen Stacy is just another headstone. Another person nobody will know again.

You finally make it up to Gwen’s grave. You kneel down and gently set down the bouquet. You stay kneeling there, just staring at your best friend’s name.

You take a deep breath before you start speaking.

“Hey. It’s me again.”

You pause for a moment, almost as if you’re expecting a response, even though there hasn’t been a single response throughout the many times you’ve been here.

“My grades are doing really good now. Applied for a few scholarships, and I actually think I might get into an Ivy League.”

You smile gently, knowing Gwen would be so proud of you. Whenever you doubted yourself, she would always encourage you. You remember the countless nights of her helping you with homework, telling you how much you’ve improved. She even said she was positive you’d get into the same school, becoming roommates and actually living together. Like sisters.

“Everyone in school misses you. They still talk about how amazing you were. How smart and how nice.”

Just yesterday you were walking down the hall past Gwen’s locker. There’s still plenty of pictures and decorations commemorating her. It gives you hope that Gwen will not be forgotten for a long time.

But you also think about the looks you get when you walk by. The sad, pitiful looks. You hate those looks. You also think some of those odd expressions are looks of confusion, as it was so weird to see you without Gwen Stacy right in front of you. You’ve always been Gwen Stacy’s best friend. People don’t know how to react seeing you without her.

“Uhmm…Peter misses you.”

You always choke up a bit at this part.

“We all do, of course, but especially Peter. I try to visit him every day. He doesn’t really talk to me though.”

Not that he talked to you too much before Gwen died, but you still felt like mentioning it.

“He just kind of sits in his room all the time. He hasn’t been in school much.”

The few times he has shown up in school, he just kind of ignores everyone. He must be getting tired of those pitiful looks in the hallways too.

“I’ve tried looking out for him. Like…like you would’ve wanted.”

God, you hate this. You really hate this.

“He just won’t let me in. I know he’s not going out as Spider-Man anymore, but he’s just not doing anything. He just sits in his room all the time. Not talking to anyone. Not even May.”

If he isn’t even talking to May, why would he talk to you?

You take a deep breath and finally stand up fully, your legs aching from kneeling on the hard ground for too long.

“I’m actually headed to his place now. I know he probably won’t talk to me, but I’ll still try. For you.”

You try to keep the tears back.

“Even if he doesn’t talk to me, May still lets me hang out. You know she makes the best food.”

You stare at her name again, not wanting to say goodbye again. But you know you have to.

“Anyway, that’s all. Thought I’d keep you updated. I’ll visit same time next week.”

You can almost hear her say goodbye to you. But you know it’s in your head. So you finally turn around and go back to your car, preparing for yet another uneventful visit to the Parker residence.

You knock on the door, preparing to put on a happy face in front of May. She’s such a sweet lady, you don’t want her to worry too much about you. She already has to worry about Peter, and you don’t want to put any extra stress on her shoulders.

Sure enough, May answers the front door with her signature sweet smile.

“Hey there, sweetie! Come on in, I just put on a pot of coffee, you must be freezing out here.”

She ushers you in and you revel in the warm atmosphere of the home.

“Thanks, May. I appreciate it.”

She dismisses your statement with a wave.

“Think nothing of it, hun.”

You sit down at the coffee table while May gets the coffee ready. While she does, you look around the home, which you’ve done countless times at this point.

Your favorite thing to look at is the picture on the wall of Peter. He must’ve been young, maybe sixth grade. In the picture, he’s at a science fair, holding up a nice red ribbon with “1st Place” written on it. May and Ben are standing proudly behind him as he smiles brightly at the camera. It makes you smile, seeing him so happy. But you also get sad, wishing he had some of that childlike joy back in his life.

May brings comes back in the room with two cups of coffee in her hand.

“Here you go, should warm you right up.”

You accept the cup with a smile, embracing the warm feeling on your hands. The warmth spreads when you take a sip. The coffee is nothing special, just as generic as any cup of coffee, but knowing that May made it for you and how happy she was to see you makes it taste better.

“Peter’s in his room if you want to say hi.”

She didn’t need to tell you where he was. You knew.

“Okay, I’ll go see him.”

You take a final sip of coffee and walk to Peter’s room.

You contemplate knocking on his door. You know if you knock that he probably won’t answer you, but if you just walk in, he still won’t talk to you. So, knowing the answer will be the same either way, you just walk in.

It looks like Peter hasn’t moved an inch since your last visit. He’s just laying on his bed, covered in blankets, head turned away from you. You know he’s awake though, you can tell by the way his body slightly tensed at the door opening.

“Hey, Pete.”

You speak gently, almost like you were afraid to scare him off. You close the door as softly as you can behind you.

“Missed you at school. I had the teachers give me your assignments so I can give them to you.”

No response. As usual.

You don’t know how to speak to him. You never really did. Neither of you really spoke to each other before he started dating Gwen, and when they did start dating, there was only small interactions between you. But still, you liked those small interactions. They were nice. Made you feel like you were sort of friends. But now that Gwen is gone, you don’t know where you stand.

Even so, you still try. You know that’s what Gwen would want. She wouldn’t want the love of her life wasting away like this.

“Have you eaten at all today?”

No answer.

“I know you’re, like, superhuman and all, but even so, you need to have some food in your body.”

You lick your lips and sigh, getting a little bit frustrated. It’s the same thing every day. You talk, he lays there, then you go home. You don’t feel like your presence is helping him that much, but if you don’t make an effort, you know you’ll feel guilty.

“How about some pizza? I can order one and it’ll be delivered in no time.”

As expected, no response. God, this boy is so infuriating sometimes.

“I know you hear me. Your spidey-senses kind of force you to.”

It’s still weird that Peter’s Spider-Man. You only found out about his secret by accident. You just walked into Gwen’s room, without knocking of course, as best friends do, and there you saw a surprised Gwen and Peter in his suit, mask in hand. That was a few weeks before the accident.

“Come on, Peter. You need to eat something. We can’t have you wasting away in here.”

“Why do you care?”

Even though his voice is raspy and not at all loud, you still flinch. That’s the most you’ve gotten out of him in three months.

“I, uh, what do you mean? Of course I care.”

“Why?”

His voice is a little louder this time.

“Because, we’re friends, Peter. I care about you.”

He sits up in his bed and faces you. You can finally get a good look at him. His once bright eyes, full of joy and mischief are dull and bloodshot.

“Since when? I mean, we barely talk.”

You don’t really know what to say, because it is true, you never talked with Peter as much as you would’ve liked to, but you still kind of thought those small interactions amounted to a friendship.

Just as you try to speak again, he talks some more.

“We both know the only reason we ever hung out was because of Gwen. And she’s not here now. So, please, just…”

He moves his arms around, trying to get his frustration across.

“Leave me alone.”

When he says this, he looks dead into your eyes, which are slowly but surely filling up with tears. You try not to let them fall.

You’ve been wishing for Peter to say something to you for months now, and now that it’s happened, you just want to curl into a ball on the ground.

Not wanting to be in the room with him any longer, you turn around and face the door. You put your hand on the doorknob but before you twist it, you turn your head towards Peter.

“I know you never really thought of me as a friend, Peter. A part of me always knew you just putting up with me for Gwen’s sake. But I always respected you, Pete. You were kind, funny, cool. Never mean.”

A couple of tears drops fall despite yourself.

“I remember when there was that Homecoming dance. You and Gwen were going together but I didn’t have a date. I was fine staying home, but you felt bad and invited me to come with you guys. You didn’t have to, nobody was forcing you, you just offered. Gwen didn’t even have to ask you to, you just did it.”

You wipe your cheek for a moment, still trying to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you.

“It was small things like that that made me like you. You’re such a good person Peter. I mean, you’re fucking Spider-Man, of course you’re a good person.”

You take one final big breath.

“So, you may not consider me a friend, Peter Parker, but you are mine. You are my friend. And I don’t have many of those, so, I’ve got to look after you.”

You finally twist the doorknob and open the door.

“It’s what Gwen would’ve wanted.”

With that final sentiment, you walk out of his room and speed past May, who is clearly worried about the tears on your face, eager to leave this house and go home to cry.

You spend the rest of your night watching movies in your room. You’re laying on your bed in your pajamas, bowl of popcorn in your lap. You glance at the opposite side of the bed. The side Gwen would sit as she laughed at the movies with you.

You try to focus on the movie, trying not to think about Gwen so much, and also trying not to think about your fight with Peter.

Was it even a fight? Neither of you yelled, but he did make you cry. He said some hurtful things. Things that were partially true. But you still didn’t want to see him. Seeing him hurt you a lot. All you can think about was the way he looked at you, with annoyance, frustration, anger. You felt bad for him, you know he’s grieving too, but he just made your blood boil and your eyes well up with tears.

Despite this, you know you’ll still visit him tomorrow. Because Gwen would want you to. Because that’s what friends do.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

Instead of your mom or dad like you expected, none other than Peter Parker walks through your door.

He’s actually dressed in New clothes, as opposed to the weeks old clothes you saw him wear earlier. His eyes look like they’re filled with guilt.

“Hey.”

You’re not used to seeing Peter Parker in your room. He only showed up a few times when he crashed yours and Gwen’s movie nights.

“Hey.”

Peter looks at the ground nervously, hand reaching to scratch the back of his head.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I have been an absolute jerk to you and you don’t deserve that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words.

“You’re grieving. I get it. It’s okay.”

He quickly shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s not okay. I know I’m grieving, but you are too. I’ve just been shutting you out when all you want to do is help. It’s not right.”

You have no words. You certainly weren’t expecting this, but maybe you should have. It is Peter, after all. He’s a superhero. Always trying to make things right.

“You have always been nice to me, and you never gave up on me, even when I completely shutting you out. I haven’t been a good friend to you, and I want that to change.”

Hearing him actual say that he wants to be your friend warms your heart more than it should.

You give him a slight smile.

“You can start being a good friend and have a movie night with me?”

At first, Peter looks shocked that you’re willing to just forgive him so quickly. But then the expression on his face soon turns jovial as you shoot over on the bed, allowing him to sit next to you.

You smile as you press play on the movie you were watching. You can feel Peter’s eyes on the side of your face, but you ignore it until you know he’s watching the movie. Both of you just sit and watch, hands leisurely grabbing popcorn from the bowl between you. It almost feels normal, natural.

It actually feels like you have a friend again. Not that he can ever replace Gwen. And you know you could never replace Gwen in Peter’s eyes either. But both of you are filling the space that Gwen’s death left. It makes things easier for the both of you. It’s nice knowing that you have each other during this difficult time.

After a while, when all is calm between you and Peter and the movie is almost over, you turn to look over at Peter.

“You know, I visited Gwen’s grave today. I visit every week. You could come with me if you want.”

Peter is still for a moment, eyes locked on the screen in front of you. You wish you didn’t bring it up, knowing that Peter is just now starting to talk about Gwen’s death, and now you may have pushed too far too fast.

But then he looks over at you, a sad but gentle smile on his face.

“Yeah. I think that’d be nice.”

[ihaznoclue]

Just Imagine...

Pairings -> Bumblebee x Reader

Warnings -> Family issues, school issues

Note -> Thought of something cute so why not do it with my precious boy Bumblebee!

Genre -> Angst to Fluff

Just Imagine this... You and Bumblebee are both having a very hard and bad day. Bee has been working hard non-stop and he's getting tired of it but something else has pissed him off today.

With you, you're just pissed off since you have no more patience anymore, school has just been draining you and you just didn't want to go back home to get your parents yelling at you and at each other.

It was like those days where you wanted to punch something or someone who dares talk to you since you were in such a bad mood. Now here you are sitting next to your partner Bee who hasn't seen to be his cheery self.

You wondered what happened back there in his mission that got him so riled up, he's never like this unless there is a reason.

You thought he would be happy after getting his voice back and everything else, you might think it's about his home and that he couldn't leave just yet.

Bee was also wondering why you were in a bad mood as well, you're usually all over the place and always love to laugh with Miko with her terrible jokes and actions.

You didn't even know what time it was to be honest on how long you have stayed here at the base for.

So you checked your phone as it shown '9:24pm' then you thought of an idea that can help cheer both you and bee. So you tapped on bee to get his attention.

"I want to show you something" You gave a small smile towards him, he nodded as he had nothing better to do anyways so he followed you up onto the top of the base

As soon as you stepped out, the cold gentle breeze blew right past you, making your hair go everywhere which caused a chuckle from Bee who was behind you

At least he's laughing

Now you were sitting together, You sitting on Bee's shoulder as he was careful to not drop you, his legs dangling over the edge

"Looks at all the stars tonight" You whispered

"I never seen so many stars" Bee spoke

"Well you are now" You happily spoke, still looking up at the sky then thought it was the best time to ask why bee was so grumpy earlier

"Hey Bee, may I ask you something?" You asked which caused bee to look at you

"Sure, what is it?"

"I have been meaning to ask this for a while now but I didn't want to make anything worse, but What happened earlier to make you so mad? Is it something that happened back at your mission that got you so riled up? You weren't your cheery happy self" You asked

Bee thought for a moment, "What happened at the mission was that Starscream commented something about you and that just hit something in me. I just couldn't let that slide with me." Bee spoke, you could also hears his whirrling as his fist tightened

"But I am also meaning to ask you something as well, the same question that is" Bee then asked

"Oh, it's just nothing too special actually just school and my parents"

"Are they fighting again?"

"..."

"Flower, you can tell me"

"I just didn't want to go back there after everything that has happened, and school is making everything worse for me."

There was a moment of silence...

.

..

...

"Let's just try to forget all that for now, let's just enjoy each other"

Your shoulders now slouched down from the tense you've been holding for a while, the breeze came back making you shiver a little

You heard Bee chuckle, "You cold?" He asked, you nodded as you rub your arms up and down to warm yourself up

"Let's go back inside, warm you up and then I'll take care of you, My little flower"

Just thought of something before I go off to Camp tomorrow

-A<3

[arceespinkgun]

Elita-1 and Lugnut from the Earth Wars Mobile Game

Pyra Magna: Elita... help us! The Prime Core's bleeding us dry of energy! Life support systems... failing...

Jumpstream: Get... us... out... of... here...

Lugnut: You have a choice, Elita-1. Fight me and maybe grab the Prime Core... Or save the Rust Renegades.

Elita-1: Looks to me like you've got the exact same choice, Lugnut - the Core or the Stunticons.

Lugnut: Ha! That's no choice at all. I would gladly give my life for Megatron and they should do no less. Farewell, Motormaster, you'll be remembered... As a footnote, maybe.

Motormaster: You... miserable... jumped-up... I'll- Unhhh...

Elita-1: Without the Core, Optimus Prime may die. But... he'd never forgive me... never! Not if others paid the price for his life!

Pyra Magna: H-Hurry... we're running on fumes here!

Lugnut: Tick, tock, Elita... Time's running out for your Rusty Regenades. While my eyes are on the prize!

Elita-1: Optimus... I'm sorry...

Lugnut: Haw! This is like taking cyber candy from a protoform! The Prime Core is mine... all mine! In the name of glorious Megatron, naturally!

Elita-1: Hang on, Rust Renegades - I'm coming. Tow cable away! I'm going to haul you clear of the danger zone... one at a time.

Motormaster: Lug... nut... come... back. Don't... leave... us...

Dead End: Too... late... boss. He's as good as gone. They... all... left us... to rust...

Motormaster: No! Never! I may be critically low on energy, but I got reserve tanks full'a rage! I'm... gettin' us out of here! An' when I do... they're all gonna pay! Lugnut and the Renegades!

Megatron: Lugnut - you have done well. I am pleased. Unlike some of my underlings... You do not fail me!

Starscream: Pah! Creep!

Megatron: Keep the Prime Core, Lugnut. You will be my... talisman. With you at my side, no force on Earth will lay me low again.

Lugnut: This... This is the most glorious day of my existence!

Elita-1: Optimus, I'm sorry, I... failed you.

Optimus: (shaking head) No, Elita. You remained true to the ideals we both hold dear. Thank you.

Jetfire: Optimus! I've been experimenting with the Prime Core that Hound recovered. When supplied with the energy signatures Elita-1 experienced on her mission...

Optimus: Short version, Jetfire.

Jetfire: Don't say your goodbyes just yet, Optimus. We have a cure!

...All I could picture at the end there when Elita-1 and Optimus were spouting the very Autobot duty, responsibility, sacrifice thing:

Also I firmly believe transformers can feel all emotions and I'm a shipper, but I kind of love Elita-1, Optimus, and Lugnut being seen as like... abnormal for their romantic feelings LMAO