#this has been such a private joy for me as i've worked on it the past couple of months so i'm admittedly a tad nervous about releasing it

[bantersnatch]

have you ever gone "gee i sure wish i could read a weirdly grounded prequel-slash-character study speculating about host!vic's relationship with their step family"?

...no?

well. that's what i wanted. i wanted it so badly, in fact, that i've gone and written it myself. if you've ever gone looking for a longer/multichapter vip fic, or you want to see host!vic start out bad and get so much worse, or you just crave bianca content -- there might be something here for you, too!

[yamarts]

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[bunny-jpeg]

Hi bunny, I'm obsessed with your writing, it's scratching a part of my brain I didn't know could be scratched. Anyway I love it and was wondering if any millionaire shortcake, s'mores, pots de crème and whatever's on the house could be served by Max Verstappen please?

Love <33

bakery menu!!

want to suggest your own order? then check out the menu! i've been slowly getting through the prompts! this has been a fun little one to write! and thank you, thank you for loving my writing. sometimes it's hard to put into my head that people read me work because it's just me in my room haha, so thank you!!

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" + pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo." + on the house: author's choice! (root beer: filming/recording) served by max vestappen (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, leclerc!reader, motorhome sex, rough sex, filming/recording, dirty talk, clothed sex

max looked at you from across the paddock, you were happily chatting with one of the mechanics. max knew you were taking engineering in school, after all racing was in your blood. you were the sister of charles leclerc, the only daughter out of four children.

and after a particularly rough weekend, max verstappen, wanted a little revenge. and while he was a little old for childish pranks towards charles. he was old enough to fuck the only leclerc daughter. as you ended up further through the paddock, your curious gaze was trying to find your brother max soon caught up with you.

a possessive arm got around your shoulder and you yelped. but then relaxed when it was just max. you exhaled deeply and smiled softly, an innocent kind of smile, "max! you scared me." you trusted max, you always did!

you had made the assumption in your head that max was going to shepherd you back to your brother. but, instead you were led further away from where he could possibly be. out of ferrari territory and right in red bull's. he guided you with a hand on the small of your back like a lover. his neck craned towards you as if he was going to kiss you.

"where's char, max?" you asked as you held the front of max's shirt. instead he just kissed you on the face.

"we'll wait in the red bull motorhome. you'll be safe there, treasure." he smiled at you. his voice soft, inviting. revenge coursed through him as he brought you up the steps of the home for the weekend.

his hands were on you a little more intimately once you got inside. you stumbled through the doorway and max pressed his clothed erection up against your behind, "the leclerc's pride and joy. the stray from the pack. you became an engineer and you made them proud. but if they saw you now." he flipped up the tennis skirt your wore and he was greeted with simple blue panties, "you'd be the greatest shame to your family." you were loved by your family and you always thought family was important. but, max's words burned in your minds and took nest in a deeper, darker part of you.

letting your brother's rival fuck the day lights out of you.

"max." you swallowed as he firmly grasped your throat. not enough to bruise but enough to keep you still.

"the accent gets you, doesn't it?" he asked lowly as he rubbed up against you. he thought he'd need to give you the princess treatment and give you a bed. but you quickly ended up over the couch. your blouse was unbuttoned and hung off your shoulders and your panties down your soft thighs.

if charles was a devil on the track, then you were the balance of light. an angel that max was going to ruin.

max admired your soaked cunt for a moment as he palmed himself through his jeans. he licked his lips, and said as he got behind you on the couch, "you look good like this. bent over for me. your little private school probably didn't teach you how to be a good slut. good thing i'm here, because i'll teach you everything."

you moaned as max teased your cunt with his fingers for a moment before he licked the wetness off of them. he undid his belt soon after and got his cock out of his pants. he knew he if he was a better man, he would have no grabbed his phone from his pocket and recorded him slotting his heavy cock into your needy little cunt.

he asked, "how does it feel?"

if a picture is worth a thousand words, then he could probably get a million dollars from the photo. the one he took of your cunt taking his cock beautifully. it made him lick his lips as he started to move against you.

his thrusts were strong and quickly he built up the pace. he was only encouraged by your slutty moans. you sounded like you loved cock. and who was max to deny you that. of course he'd fuck your sweet cunt with everything he got! and let filthy words tumble off his tongue as he worked your achy sex.

"i bet you were popular for all the wrong reason. not because of your smarts of your humor. no, you were popular because you gave it up so easily." max knew that wasn't true. you were notoriously monogamous, it was just words that scratched an itch. but don't worry you're little head, with the slice of heaven that max was feeling. he'd happily fuck you any day of the week.

you fueled his lust, simple as that. now it was your job to satisfy it. as his rough jeans rubbed against your behind with rough movements. he made you feel a pleasurable heat all over.

"i bet you knew exactly how to make the boys squirm. you have a pussy that could be called addictive. i was going to fuck you to blow off steam but now... i know why your brothers wanted you away from the track. you're not but a distraction."

you swallowed and felt the surge through your body. your pulse was quickened and your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. you had no idea what max had planned for the future. you were his now. he wasn't going to give up having sex with you and let someone else have the chance. not lando, or lance, or anyone else. no one else could stake a claim while he was pushed inside of you.

you groaned through a tense jaw as he continued to hit against the right places. he made you shudder and squirm in all the right ways. you clutched onto the couch as he continued to fuck you with a quick thrusts that made you need more.

"fuck, more! please!" your noises were so sweet that max couldn't help but record them as he fucked you. he caught sight of how lovely, simply lovely, you took his cock. you fit perfectly against him.

you were just a little treat as he continued. he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"it feels good." you gasped as he fucked you. his pace was quick and near erratic. he fucked you with purpose and it left you seeing stars at every chance. he was obsessed with you and you needed him in return. you knew you were close, you heavily panted against the white leather of the couch while he crammed every inch inside of you. he made sure your sweet cunt was filled to the max with him. his cock hit against you and it made you whine for more.

"you feel amazing, fuck, your pussy is amazing." he shuddered and pushed you further up against the couch. your noises, he gripped onto your hips tightly and bounced you up against his cock.

with a few more thrusts, you arched your back. you came around his cock which only made him move faster. he worked his aching cock into you.

"fuck, max!" you yelped and grasped tightly. you felt the after shudders of orgasm. you sounded beautiful and let him just fuck you with a feverish pace.

max was close behind you. he finished inside of you soon after. a few more heavy thrusts and he was spent. he held onto your hips for a moment longer as he slowed to a stop. he kissed your clothed back and rocked against you a few more times before he pulled out. a beady strain of cum connected you two. just as he liked it.

"how was that?" he asked as he pulled out and got his cock back into his jeans. he felt good as he watched you try to collect yourself.

you replied through heavy pants, "really fucking good."

-

"there you are." you heard your brother's voice as you walked through the paddock with max close by. charles took you by the shoulders and away from max, "where did you go?"

you swallowed as you could feel max's cum against the cotton of your panties. you then chuckled as your brother pulled you in for a tight hug, "i think i just got lost. but! max was here to help me." you looked over to the other man.

charles smiled at his long time rival, "thanks, mate." he had zero clue what max did to you. your brother slapped you on the back lovingly, "let's get back towards our end so we can get ready for dinner." then gave max one last look before you both left.

max eyed your behind as you walked away. he wondered for a moment, which school did you go to and how easily could get there. <3

[ns2dstudios]

My EPIC Journey

Where do I even begin? I have dreamt of being an animator ever since I was a little girl, growing up with the Disney animation renaissance era as well as a non-stop barrage of anime, in particular Dragonball Z. I even wrote in my high school yearbook that I dreamed of one day working for the studio that worked on Dragonball Z just so I can animate for that very series. And I made sure everyone knew it LOL

The dream didn't materialize, but after decades of struggle, I got something far better than I could ever have imagined. I get to animate at the comfort of my own home. I get the career I've always wanted, and am able to generally work at my own time. I get to work with a wonderful team (drawmisu, Camalemsy, Novi, Nathan Kuan, Jenny) who are generous with their time and talents and are fun to work with. And I get to work with wonderful clients who have changed my life and afforded me and my family the comforts we are enjoying, from Mortius, to Casper Fox, but most of all to Jorge Rivera-Herrans, whom I fondly call simply as Jay.

Jay gave me the amazing opportunity to be part of the roster of talented (skillented according to Casper) animator for the official EPIC: The Musical animatics and animations. He entrusted me with his vision, is just an overall joy to work with, and as some of you may know during the Vengeance Saga, literally saved my life for the simple fact that he commissioned me two animations (Dangerous and 600 strike finale), which allowed me, who does not have health insurance, to afford expensive care for a bad case of pneumonia. Without Jay, I would not only have reached my dreams, but I would literally not be here typing this. (Don't worry, with the generosity of my clients, I am actually now shopping around for a good health insurance company....which I know is a hot button topic right now, but I don't live in the US and our private health care here is often times better than public).

But I digress.

With the premiere of the Ithaca Saga, comes the conclusion of the concept album of EPIC: The Musical. But as Jay mentioned, the journey is far from done. I have so many things planned: more commissioned animatics from clients whom I also consider dear friends, more EPIC fan animatics and animations, more musical animatics from other IPs, an animated short, an animated trailer for my upcoming animated pilot episode, and so much more in the future!

Everything I have, the happiness and contentment that I am experiencing right now would not be possible had my paths not crossed with Jay's and his wonderful EPIC the Musical project. Our paths would not have crossed where it not for the EPIC fans who relentlessly tagged him in my animated works, which made him take notice and reach out. And I would not have become a big fan of EPIC, where it not for my cousin Julia, who had been relentless in her goal to turn me into an EPIC fan ever since the TROY saga dropped (I will never stop thank you, pinsan! Love you so much!)

This is not goodbye. This is see you again soon.

REAL SOON.

Bye for now, you guys! This has been Gwendy from NS2D Studios saying, I will see you, when I see you.

[kanmom51]

Are you sure?! Sapporo - Episode 8

I know.

I know it's been a bit and a half.

I know it's taken me time to come here and talk about the last episode.

I've been digesting, totally in the feels, and trying to recover.

The photobook, JM's little piece of information regarding his whereabouts night before Jeju and the pic. OMG, that JK marked by JM pic. The more you think about it the crazier it gets. That they actually did that and that the photo made it's way into the book (not to mention us knowing that JM has that pic he took of JK on his phone). All quite a distraction from me working through my thoughts about the episode. A welcomed distraction, but a distraction none the less.

This last episode we got of their Sapporo trip was an emotional rollercoaster. Not only for JK and JM. The level of Joy on the one hand. Seeing them so very happy. And them allowing us to see even more of them and their happiness. Like JM said:

Thinking again about what he said here... and then going back to this:

Yeah, I know he was talking about their Sapporo trip, but you know that this isn't the first time we saw JM wanting to claim his territory.

I know I don't have to point out where JM was pointing where he was going to be writing "Jimin", right?

So, this too is something JM does at home? Just a thought, lol.

And then those two just had to kill me. I know they were both pensive and sad it was all coming to an end, but JM crying, that just devastated me (because It's JM, and JM struggles so with showing himself so vulnerable).

So yes, it has taken me a second to get my wits together and come back and talk a bit with you about what we had in Episode 8.

When I finished watching the episode for the first time I couldn't help but think:

It's the end of the world as we know it...

Well, not really, because we knew it pretty well, but for those that didn't (or wouldn't see it, or denied it, or lived in a delusion that it wasn't happening) it sure is changed.

And then we get JM and JK just crushing down all those TKK rickety houses of cards (see what I did there?) with the photobook. Absolutely priceless!!

Are you sure?! Episode 8

Filled with romance and sentiment and so much feels. Couplie feels.

This episode, is the one, out of all those it followed, to cement for us, the spectators (all spectators, not only Jikookers), that these two are... drumroll... a REAL LIFE long term ever so loving couple.

No huge ear sucking, hickey showing or sunscreen claiming moments. And yet, this episode differs so much from the ones that came before because the whole aura of it was so heavy in "if it looks like a duck and quack like a duck then it's a fucking couple you idiots, just open your eyes".

This is JM and JK just being themselves albeit Sapporo Jikook are innately different due to timing and place - Japan and last trip before enlistment made this so much MORE for the two of them, and we most definitley saw just how much so at the end of this episode.

But this is also the editors doing, with the company's ok, of course, allowing us to see so much MORE. I do believe, that just like with the hickey finding it's way into memories 2020, this episode, the editing of it, was a conscious decision of both Jikook and the company. Jikook being themselves and allowing us to see more of it. More of them. I can assure you there is much we did not get to see, just like there was much we did not see from the previous trips and episodes, but we were allowed to see MORE in episode 8.

And again, it's not about seeing sus moments, because we definitely got a few of those in this episode. We had some in previous episodes as well.

It's about the MOOD.

it's about the editing allowing for more private moments (emotionally private, couplie private, not necessarily what people love to see or think would be the most suspicious ones, the more obvious ones with sexual innuendos), moments that I am sure happened in the other two destinations as well but were edited out.

But there were still things we weren't allowed to see.

Like when a crying JM goes to wake up JK in the morning.

Too personal. Too emotional. Too private.

Beyond the MORE, it was just TOO MUCH.

And yet we did get Jikook just being themselves and us getting to see it. Jikook just BEING. And it was beautiful. It was emotional. It was intimate. It was so very special.

We got to see them react to the first episode of the show. And although this most definitely wouldn't be the first time we got to see them sit down and watch and react to BTS content, that was always within the context of BTS content and with the other members. I can think of one time we got to see them watching their own interactions during the Black Swan shoot.

But even that had them sitting apart and the whole group present.

This was intimate. Just the two with only a red pillow between them (which I am 100% they put there to remind themselves of where, when and what they are doing). JK holding on to that pillow, to prevent hands from straying? I guess it kept them at bay... at times...

So yes. We see JK and JM (oh boy JM) definitely in the feels. And the different editing. Allowing us to see and feel their intimacy.

And with all that, the whole intimate aura surrounding that whole episode we got some cute and some more obvious moments (those moments you can point your finger at and say "there you go", unlike a feeling you get from just watching the two BEING).

We got so so much in this episode.

We got their usual playful flirting.

One example of many:

I mean, really???

The facial expression while saying it, and the mostly lack of reaction from JM as well. No flinching, no "you shouldn't say stuff like that", nope... just this:

This, to me, is not stressing about JK saying this to him but more about it being said for us to hear.

And I'm sorry, but whichever way you look at it, this is not the reaction you would get from a bro who was just told by his bro to strip.

We got more flirting in the car, at the convenience store, at the accommodations, in the hot tub as well. I will get to it all, don't worry, lol.

We got the touchy.

We also have the full combo of flirty playful and touchy:

We got JM telling us 3 times he was taking and took a boyfriend pic.

We got them calling each other pet names.

We got JM talking about his butt and JK's familiarity with it...

We got JK showing off his BF privileges.

We got JK trying to uplift JM's mood.

We got JK telling us all these trips with JM have been the best of his life,

and:

We got JK totally lost, gazing all stary eyed at JM.

Fuck, that was so beautiful!!

I want to go back a second to the clip I shared - what the absolute perfect ending to an absolutely wonderful show. And that little surprise at the end.

Even watching it again now I'm balling my eyes out.

JM rubbing his shaved head... I can't...

😭😭

The one thing that gives me strength is knowing that they are there TOGETHER!!!

[merrybloomwrites]

Been Here for Days

Summary: You never thought about the dangers of dating a celebrity. But when you get taken by a man who's after Harry's money you're faced with the jarring reality that you're not as safe as you thought.

Word Count: 3.7K

CW: kidnapping, drugs, violence, attempted sa, hospitals

AN: I've read a few mafia AU stories where reader gets kidnapped because of Harry's dark world. So it gave me the idea for a non-AU story in which the reader gets kidnapped, simply for being the partner of a famous and wealthy popstar. I've had this partially written for a while but it seemed fitting to include in Whumptober so I finally finished it up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dating Harry Styles came with a certain level of attention. This wasn’t a surprise to you, and you learned how to deal with it fairly quickly. Harry also did a lot to protect you and try to keep you out of the public eye as much as possible. 

Whenever he did get overprotective you’d remind him that it’s okay, you knew what you signed up for. But he always reiterated that his personal life should be private, and he didn’t want people trying to get more information about the two of you than he chooses to share.

One thing that’s obvious is that no one really cares about you. Not as an individual. They care that you’re Harry’s girlfriend. There’s not a doubt in your mind that if the two of you ever broke up, you’d never have photos posted of you again. 

And you’re fine with that too. It doesn’t bother you that you’re just seen as the girlfriend, mainly because it means people don’t care to go digging and finding facts about your life. Your family has been left alone for the most part, and you can still go out alone without being bothered.

Occasionally an individual will show deep interest in you, and you’ll find a social media account dedicated to you. Sometimes it’s a fan page, sometimes it’s a hate page. You let them be, since they’re still only posting things that are already released to the public. Even these ‘more enthusiastic’ people aren’t really crossing boundaries, since they’re not trying to find private photos or follow you to get photos of their own. 

Or so you thought.

Since spring began, and the weather turned nice, you’ve been making sure to walk to work each day. Ironically, you’d gotten a job in a local bakery. You wanted a steady job of your own while Harry isn’t touring, and this seemed like a perfect choice. You love getting up early to bake and decorate what’s needed for the day. It’s calm, and therapeutic. You mostly work in the back, doing the actual baking, but occasionally you fill in up front at the register. 

Each morning you walk to work as the sun is just rising, and you get home by early afternoon. This gives you time to run errands, do some chores around the house, or just take some time to relax before Harry gets home. He’s been working more in the studio recently, but still makes it a point to get back by 5PM in order to spend a couple of hours with you every day.

You cook a meal together, talk about your days, and often put on a movie and cuddle. It’s the simple things that bring the two of you joy, just getting to end your days together. 

You wake up on Monday morning, and it starts just like the rest. You get dressed, kiss the cheek of a still sleeping Harry, and begin your walk. You have an odd feeling, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. You were up a bit later than usual the night before, enjoying some adult activities with Harry, so maybe you’re just a bit tired.

The same feeling is there on the way home. But you’d had a tough day at work with someone calling out, leaving you to try and continue baking while also working the register. 

This feeling continues the whole week, and you continue to make excuses as to why you’re so anxious during your commute each day. But when the next week is the same, you begin to grow wary. Finally, on Thursday of the second week you realize that it feels as though you’re being followed. This thought does freak you out, and you plan to talk to Harry that night at home.

But you don’t make it home.

The weather on your walk back to the house is perfect, if not even a little warm. But you don’t feel it. You feel chilled, and nervous, and you’re glancing over your shoulder every two seconds. You’re mad at yourself, berating yourself for not calling Harry to have him pick you up. You’d convinced yourself it would be fine, and you didn’t want to bother him. But now as you walk alone, sensing another person might be following you, that logic seems incredibly stupid. 

As you’re pulling out your phone to call Harry you hear a noise in the bush next to you. Instinctively, you turn towards the sound. Everything happens so quickly, yet as though it’s in slow motion. A man rushes at you, covering your mouth so you can’t scream and using his other arm to keep you still. 

You try to fight back, but he’s bigger, stronger. Despite your best efforts, he still manages to get a needle into you. At first you feel the pinch of the needle, and then you feel nothing at all, and your world goes black. 

When you wake up, you’re disoriented. You’re in a bed, and while it’s comfy, it’s not your own. The bedroom you’re in is completely unrecognizable. Slowly, your memories come back. There was a man. Who’d probably been following you for weeks, tracking your schedule, and he’s now taken you. 

And not to some basement, or a warehouse or something creepy that you’d see in movies. No, he took you to his home. To a bed. And that feels even worse. You quickly assess your body, and are relieved to find that you’re still in your same clothes, and all you can feel are a couple minor scrapes and bruises, likely from trying to fight the man. 

There’s a window in the room so you get up and peek out. It’s dark, indicating a lot of time has passed. You can’t see anything outside, no other houses, and hope it’s just because of how dark it is. Because the idea that there’s nothing nearby is causing you to panic even more than you already are. 

You check the door, but of course it’s locked from the outside. The window won’t open either. You’re trapped. 

There is a bathroom attached to the bedroom, but no way to escape from there either. It does mean you can take a sip of water and splash some water on your face which helps calm you briefly. 

Taking deep breaths you begin to pace. Your mind spins, trying to come up with escape scenarios, and hoping that someone is figuring out where you are so they can come get you. The sky turns pink outside and you check your surroundings again. 

There’s nothing but a large open field. No biggie. Maybe there’s civilization out the front of the house. There’s no way you’re locked in a house with a crazy person out in the middle of nowhere. 

Tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. There’s got to be a way out of here. A way back home. A way to Harry. 

You’re left alone for what feels like hours. You’re a little hungry, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment. 

Finally, the door opens. You stand your ground in the middle of the room, not wanting to back yourself into a corner for whatever is about to happen. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand up straight, not showing any weakness to the person who took you. 

“Well good morning sweetheart,” he says. The pleasantries, the nickname, it’s all nauseating to you, but you keep your expression unreadable. 

“My name is Roy. I’ve been watching you and your boyfriend. You make a very cute little couple.”

“What do you want with me?” You ask, ignoring how violated you feel at the confirmation that this strange man has been following you. 

“Isn’t it obvious? Money. I want money. Harry seems to be quite devoted to you. I bet he’ll pay anything to get you back.” 

And it is obvious, really. It shouldn’t come as a surprise at all that people would want Harry’s money. But you never expected anyone to literally kidnap you for it. 

“Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure you have food and water and a safe place to stay. Might rough you up a bit, maybe have some fun,” he says as he steps forward and runs a finger along your cheek, causing you to recoil and bump into the bed behind you. 

He laughs at that, seeming to enjoy your discomfort, and then adds, “Of course that may be some good incentive for your boyfriend. I’m sure he’d hate to see anything bad happen to you.”

Your fear amps up a notch hearing this but you keep your emotions off of your face. You’re determined to stay strong throughout this whole ordeal. This man does not get to overpower you, doesn’t get to see you break like you’re sure he wants. 

He steps back a moment later and says, “Just need a quick picture, you know proof of life, proof I have you, all that.” Before you can register what he’s saying he takes out an old camera and takes your picture, the flash stunning you. 

“I brought you a sandwich and some water. It’s all sealed so you know I haven’t done anything to it. Wouldn’t want you starving yourself or dehydrating,” he says as he hands you the items. You take them, confirming they are in fact unopened. 

“Eat. I’ll be back later,” he says before stepping out of the room. You hear the definitive click of the lock but you still double check, just in case it’s open. 

Of course it isn’t, but you had to try. After examining the food to confirm it hasn’t been tampered with you take a tentative bite. It’s good, and that first bite kick starts your appetite so you quickly eat the rest. 

Roy comes back hours later to drop off dinner. He again leaves you alone to eat, and you’re starting to get lulled into a false sense of security. You think that maybe it won’t be so bad. If he’s just after money, then he might just leave you alone and then he’ll get paid and you’ll be home. 

But of course it can’t be that simple. 

Later that evening he comes back in.

“I’m bored,” he says. Just two words shouldn’t be so bone chilling, but you understand the implication. He’s bored and you’re at his mercy. He’s already drugged and kidnapped you. There’s not telling what else he’s capable of. 

By the time he leaves again you're bruised, and there’s blood running from your split lip. He’d thrown you around, hit you hard enough to send you to the ground where he kicked you repeatedly. It was terrifying and painful. 

But you admit to yourself that it could’ve been worse. You somehow convince yourself that it wasn’t so bad, that you’ll recover quickly once you get home.

After another day and a half with Roy, you’re doubting that will happen. You’re doubting you’ll recover. You’re doubting that you’ll get home. The situation has turned from terrible to terrifying. 

You’ve spent three nights in this room, including the one you were mostly unconscious for. Roy’s violence has grown, and now he seems to be changing plans again. 

“These bruises look lovely on you,” he says. It’s creepy as fuck, and indicates that whatever happens next will be awful. 

“While the violence has been fun, there are other ways to bruise your skin. I think I’ll do that today instead.”

After days of beatings you’re too tired to fight back. You lay there crying as he climbs on top of you and pins you down. His mouth goes to your neck and he begins to suck a mark there. Bile rises in your throat and it takes everything in you not to vomit at the feeling of him so close to you, touching you in this way. 

You’re wondering how you’re going to survive what’s sure to come next when there’s a noise. Suddenly the door slams open and nearly a dozen people enter the room. At first you’re terrified that they’re here to hurt you as well, but then Roy is pulled off of you and handcuffed and you realize that they’re police officers there to save you. 

One comes and talks to you, reassures you that everything is going to be okay, but still, you’re scared. It’s too much. Too much noise, and commotion, and people. You’re overwhelmed.

And then one more person enters the room. He looks different, more frazzled with a longer beard than you’ve ever seen. But as he crouches beside the bed and holds your hand between his, there’s no denying that Harry is here. 

There’s a darkness that’s been pulling at you for a while, and now that Harry’s here and you’re safe, you finally let it pull you under. 

You wake up in an uncomfortable bed wearing an itchy gown. There are bandages wrapped on various parts of your body and tubes and wires attached to you. Everything is still hazy, but you know there’s a hand holding yours. 

You quickly and clumsily pull away, not wanting anyone to touch you right now. 

Slowly the world around you refocuses, and you realize the person next to you is Harry. As much as you want his comfort, you can’t bear to have anyone’s skin touching yours. Not when it only makes you think of Roy and what he did. And what he was planning to do. 

Over the next few hours people come and go from your room. Nurses, doctors, detectives, all sharing information and asking you questions. 

But you say nothing. You don’t respond. You lay there, watching with a blank expression. Someone brings in food for dinner, and you eat just enough to make them happy before pushing away the tray and curling further into your blankets. 

The next day is much the same. They bring in a trauma counselor and though she’s a kind woman, you still say nothing. 

And it’s not that you’re upset with, or mad at these people. They’ve done nothing to you. But there’s this block in your mind right now. You’re so exhausted from the whole ordeal that it’s taking everything in you just to eat food and drink water and get yourself to and from the bathroom. 

Another two days pass and your doctor is in the room talking to Harry. He tried speaking to you but still you’re unable to find your voice. 

“Medically, she’s well enough to go home,” the doctor says. “Her injuries are healing well enough that I’m ready to discharge her.” 

You perk up a bit at this news. You miss home, miss the big comfy bed with the big windows. You miss your garden, and how peaceful it is. Hearing that you might be able to go back to your house with Harry has you more alert than you’ve been in days.

But then the doctor adds, “However, I’m concerned by her mental state. She still hasn’t said anything, and she barely lets anyone touch her. It’s important that her bandages get changed regularly and I’m worried that she won’t allow you to help with that. So until that changes she’ll have to stay here.”

Your heart drops at that. The despair you feel has you finally breaking through and suddenly you say, “No. Home.”

They both look at you and Harry quickly moves to the side of your bed. 

“What was that, baby?” he asks. He looks hopeful and you know that he’s just happy to hear you speak again.

“Home. Please,” you state. It’s hard to talk, full sentences being something you can’t do yet. But you get your point across and Harry looks at the doctor to see what he has to say about this advancement. 

Your doctor comes closer as well and asks, “Will you be okay with Harry helping you at home? He’ll have to touch you to properly clean and bandage your wounds.”

You nod, but you know that alone won’t convince them. Even though it takes a lot of courage to do this, you reach out your hand and grab Harry’s. He gasps at the contact and quickly laces your fingers with his. It feels foreign, and you hate that you no longer feel comfortable holding hands with the person who used to be your safe place. 

Apparently that was the right move, though, because you’re discharged by the end of the day. You get wheeled out, and Harry helps you get from the chair into the car that’s there for you. There’s still an overwhelming part of you that wants to flinch away from his touch, but you tell yourself that he needs this. He needs to be able to help you. 

On the drive, Harry informs you of the updated security the two of you will have. It’s weird to know that there will be people watching the house at all times, but you admit to yourself that it makes you feel better. 

Once you’re finally home you breathe a sigh of relief. And then you get to your room and the exhaustion hits again. 

You sit down on the bed and Harry moves through the house, doing all kinds of things that he thinks will help you. His nervousness is obvious, and you want to tell him you’re okay, that he should relax.

When he focuses on you again he asks, “What can I get for you? What do you need?”

“Bed.” 

“You’re tired? You want to get ready for bed?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, we can do that. Let me get you some clothes and then we can go brush our teeth together. And I’ll bring up some water and maybe some food in case you wake up hungry since you didn’t eat too much dinner before we left the hospital,” he rambles. It seems that he’s trying to make up for your lack of words by speaking more than usual. 

Harry grabs the clothes and walks over to you. It’s clear that he’s about to help you up and so you quickly stand and walk to the bathroom before he has the chance to touch you. You hate seeing the pain in his eyes at your rejection, but you’re just not ready yet. 

After getting ready you climb into bed. It’s so soft, so comfortable, and so familiar that you quickly fall asleep. 

You wake up with a jolt, your heart racing as the images of your dream race through your mind. The worst part is that it’s not just a made up nightmare, but the memories of the nightmare you actually lived. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks and he reaches out a hand to comfort you. He quickly pulls it back when he sees the way you eye it with fear and trepidation. 

“I can go,” he says. “If you’re uncomfortable with me in the bed I can stay in the next room.”

Immediately you panic at the thought of him going anywhere. “No. Stay. Please. Just, don’t touch,” you reply.

He nods and the two of you sit there in bed next to each other. You begin to cry and Harry fights back tears of his own. 

After a few minutes Harry says, “They wouldn’t let me pay the ransom.”

You turn to him, confused for a moment. And then you realize that he’s explaining why it took so long to get you out. 

“When I got the message from…him. I showed it to the detectives who were here and told them I’d pay immediately so I could get you back. But they wouldn’t let me. Said it would set a precedent and put you in even more danger. Make you a target. That if I listened to this crazy person’s demands and gave him what he wanted, more people might try to take you to get money as well. I hated knowing that they were right. That I couldn’t do the one thing in my power to help you without making life riskier for you. And I hated that you being with me put you in that position in the first place. Y/N, I am so sorry that this happened to you, that it happened because of me.” 

His voice breaks and you sit for another moment absorbing what he’d just said. You didn’t realize before, but now you know that you were mad at him. You were mad that it took so long for them to get you. But everything he said makes sense to you.

And as horrible as the experience was for you, it was awful for him as well. He looks just as exhausted as you are, and though he didn’t deal with the pain and terror that you did, he spent days filled with anxiety and fear and guilt. 

You lay down on your back, looking up and trying to silently send him a message. Once he understands he lays down as well. Slowly, one inch at a time, you shift closer to him. Finally, you turn and lay your hand on his chest. He brings up his hand and places it gently on top of yours.

The touch no longer feels foreign to you. It finally feels comforting again. Building up courage, you move again, lifting your head until you can place it on his chest. This time he doesn’t hesitate, but quickly wraps his free arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him.

For a moment you panic, feeling trapped by him. But then you take a deep breath, inhaling Harry’s distinct smell, and you relax into his hold. 

“I forgive you,” you say quietly. Harry lets out a sob and you squeeze his hand reassuringly. After a moment he controls his tears and regulates his breathing. 

“I love you. So much,” he says.

“I love you too,” you reply.

You know that this isn’t the end. There’s a long road of recovery ahead of you. But being able to lean on Harry, to trust him fully again, you know that you’re going to be okay. He’s going to be there, he’ll help you on the bad days and celebrate the good. 

He begins to quietly sing, filling the room with his familiar and comforting voice. He lulls you back to sleep, but stays up for a while just watching you, reveling in the feeling of having you back in his arms, home where you belong. Safe and sound once again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you for reading!

[bettsfic]

Betts. how do I stop feeling jealous of everyone and everything and just focus on myself? I'm tired of being comprised of nothing but envy.

story time:

so i was recently at Millay, which is one of the top artist residencies in the country. they have an acceptance rate of something like 3%. when i was shown my room, there was a packet of all the residents' artist bios. i sat down and read through all of them. most of them were like half a page in length, single-spaced, listing out accomplishments i could never dream of. one artist had won a guggenheim. one author had published 12 books. another author published her first book at 19 years old. these were people who were extremely well accomplished and respected in their fields.

and we all became very good friends!

and then there was me. my bio was 3 sentences listing out a couple short publications and awards and other residencies i'd done. and my honest to god first thought was, "wow, the jurors must have really liked my writing to have accepted me among all these great artists."

and my second thought was, "that's the healthiest thing i have ever thought."

i had no jealousy of their accomplishments. even though my career hadn't even begun compared to theirs, i didn't attend dinner that night with any impostor syndrome. and that confirmed for me that i had grown out of whatever place i used to be in as a person, where i was basically a raw wound wrapped in barbed wire. everything hurt me and i hurt everything in return.

jealous feelings come from an intense need of external approval, but as i've mentioned in other asks, approval and validation is a well that gets filled over time. at our introductory dinner that night, i didn't talk about my work in the hope of convincing everyone i deserved to be there, which was what i would've done a few years before. instead we all ended up talking about a TV show. the most highbrow place i've ever been in my life, and we're getting wine drunk and discussing at length a cheesy discovery channel reality series. the guggenheim winner: loves box turtles. the guy who's published 12 books: his favorite movie is Spirited Away. the girl who published a book at 19: reads One Direction fanfic. the well-lauded poet: old school tumblrina.

actually, 4 out of 7 of us read fanfic and we had some great conversations about it. sometime i'll tell you about introducing the co-director of the residency to AO3.

when you think of the most accomplished and successful writer you've ever read, remember that they are, at the very core of their being, a nerd. and if you were to eat dinner with them, you would, with enough polite inquisitiveness, be able to unlock the goofy side of them that binges Property Brothers.

so that was the big change for me, i think. i started asking a lot of questions. i stopped talking and i started listening. it seems counterintuitive that admitting to not knowing stuff shows confidence, but it does. pretending you know stuff is what looks insecure. i think for me, i put so much of myself in my work, i wanted my work to be lauded so i could feel accomplished, and feeling accomplishment would let me believe i deserved to exist. but over time, i've reframed that mentality. my work is a thing that exists beyond me and is private to those who read it. it comes from me, but it is not me. what i am is just the person i am, and my life is a series of moments i choose for myself, and i am allowed to exist.

even sending this ask shows that you've begun filling your well. it takes someone who's already come a long way to realize jealousy isn't the status quo and is a feeling to be overcome. and you can overcome it. you can reach a place where you have enough success that other people's success has nothing to do with you, and you're free to just be happy for them. and when you read work that's better than yours you feel joy at learning something new.

so put your work into the world and let it be rejected. you'll rack up a couple wins or close calls, and those will give you energy to be rejected some more. and eventually you'll be rejected so much that rejection doesn't feel like anything, and you will have won enough to realize your work has a place in the world, and that place is no bigger or smaller than anyone else's. your work is allowed to exist simply as it is, and you are allowed to exist simply as you are.

[novaursa]

hiiii how are you?

I can’t stop thinking about Aemond twin sister who was also sent to Oldtown and fell in love with Gwayne.

She came back with him to King’s Landing and her mother is like pist at her. When Gwayne and Criston go to battle she follow them on Cannibal to make sure that nothing happens to him. She got injure in the fight again Meleys and Gwayne can leave her side 🥹

The Crimson Sky

- Summary: When Gwayne was ordered to go to Rook’s Rest, you followed him.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: To read more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

- A/N: Request that I've received for Aemond should be out soon too, as it pretty much similar to this one. So, I've just made them simuntaniusly.

The echoes of footsteps reverberated through the stone corridors of the Red Keep, a haunting sound that mirrored the unease in Alicent Hightower's heart. She stood at the edge of the window in her private chambers, overlooking the sprawling city of King's Landing. The city was restless, much like her own soul, as if it sensed the storm that was brewing both within and beyond the castle walls. 

The letter from Oldtown lay open on the table beside her, the ink still fresh with words that brought both relief and dread. Her brother, Gwayne Hightower, was riding toward King's Landing with a force of Hightower knights, bolstering the Green cause in their struggle against the Blacks. And with him, her daughter, her sweet girl—though hardly a girl anymore—who had been sent to Oldtown all those years ago.

"She returns with Gwayne," Alicent murmured to herself, her voice barely more than a whisper. The notion should have filled her with joy. But the rumors... those insidious whispers that had even managed to penetrate the walls of the Red Keep, refused to be silenced.

The door creaked open behind her, and Alicent did not need to turn to know who it was. The scent of parchment and ink preceded him, along with the stern, unyielding presence that had always defined him. Otto Hightower, her father, the Hand of the King, stepped into the room, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

"I take it you have heard the news," Otto said, his voice measured, betraying nothing of the emotion that Alicent knew he was capable of.

"Yes," she replied, finally turning to face him. "Gwayne is coming with her."

Otto inclined his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as they met hers. "It is as we had hoped. Reinforcements from Oldtown will be invaluable in the coming days."

Alicent's gaze drifted back to the letter, her hand trembling slightly as she touched the edge of the parchment. "But at what cost?" she asked, her voice low, almost trembling. "The rumors, Father... they say things—unspeakable things about Gwayne and her. About my daughter."

Otto's expression darkened, and he stepped closer, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Idle gossip," he said dismissively. "People will say anything to sow discord, especially in times of war. We must not let baseless rumors cloud our judgment."

Alicent looked up at him, her green eyes wide with worry. "But the nature of these rumors... it's not just idle talk. They say she and Gwayne... that they are more than uncle and niece, that they are lovers." The word fell from her lips like a curse, and she shuddered at the thought.

"Do you believe it?" Otto's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"I don't want to," Alicent replied, her voice breaking. "But she has been away from me for so long. And Gwayne... he has always been protective of her, ever since she arrived in Oldtown. I... I fear what may have happened in my absence."

Otto's hand tightened on her shoulder, almost to the point of pain. "Alicent," he said firmly, "You cannot allow yourself to be swayed by rumors. We must focus on the war, on securing the throne for Aegon. Your daughter's honor is not to be questioned based on the gossip of those who would see us fail."

Alicent nodded slowly, but her heart was heavy with doubt. She could not dismiss the images that filled her mind, of her daughter and her brother, together in ways that were forbidden, sinful. The thought of it made her stomach churn, and she had to close her eyes to keep from weeping. But there was something else, something that frightened her even more. Her daughter was bonded with Cannibal, the most fearsome and wild of the dragons, a creature that had never been tamed. What if the dragon’s nature had seeped into her very soul, making her reckless, uncontrollable?

"What if there is truth to it?" she whispered, the question hanging in the air like a specter.

Otto's expression softened, just a fraction, as he looked at his daughter. "If there is truth to it, then we will deal with it. But we must not act rashly. There are greater matters at stake here, Alicent. The realm needs stability, not scandal. We cannot afford to let this undermine everything we have worked for."

Alicent swallowed hard, trying to push down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. "I cannot bear the thought of her being shamed," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "She is my child, my daughter. I sent her away to protect her, and now... now it feels as if I have lost her."

"You have not lost her," Otto said firmly. "She is returning to you, to her family. We will welcome her back with the honor she deserves. And as for Gwayne... I will speak to him. If there is any truth to these rumors, he will answer to me."

Alicent nodded, though she found little comfort in his words. Her thoughts were a tangled web of fear, love, and suspicion. She had always known that the bonds of family were complex, but never had she imagined they could become so twisted, so dangerous.

"Father," she said softly, "What if Aemond finds out? He is... possessive of her, protective. If he were to believe these rumors..."

Otto's eyes flashed with concern, and he released her shoulder, stepping back as he considered her words. "We must ensure that Aemond does not hear of this. His temper is too volatile, and his love for her... it borders on obsession. We cannot allow him to be provoked."

Alicent nodded again, but the fear lingered. The thought of her son, her fierce, vengeful Aemond, reacting to such news filled her with dread. She could only pray that Gwayne and her daughter would arrive without incident, that the rumors would prove false, and that the family could focus on the war at hand. 

But as she stared out over the city once more, the uneasy feeling in her chest remained. The winds of war were blowing, carrying with them whispers of scandal and betrayal. And Alicent could only hope that her family would not be torn apart before the storm had passed.

The courtyard of the Red Keep was alive with activity, the clang of armor and the clatter of hooves echoing off the ancient stone walls as the gates swung open to welcome the Hightower forces. Banners bearing the sigil of House Hightower— the tower crowned with flames— fluttered in the wind, a proud sight that filled Alicent with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. These were her people, the kin she had left behind in Oldtown so many years ago. Yet the emotions churning within her were anything but simple.

Aemond stood beside her, his presence as imposing as ever. The hard line of his jaw and the cold fire in his eye spoke volumes of the impatience he could barely contain. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, as if daring anyone to provoke him. Alicent knew his thoughts well enough—he was eager to see his sister, his twin, and if the rumors that plagued Alicent’s mind held any truth, Aemond’s reaction might be the spark that ignited the wildfire. 

Otto Hightower stood on her other side, his expression carefully neutral, but Alicent knew him too well. He was watching, calculating, preparing for whatever might unfold in the moments to come. His eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of the approaching entourage.

Gwayne Hightower rode at the front of his men, his armor gleaming in the midday sun. There was an aura of confidence about him, the kind that only came with years of experience in both battle and court. His gaze met Alicent’s as he dismounted, and for a moment, there was nothing but the shared understanding between siblings—a connection forged long before they were drawn into the deadly game of thrones.

“Welcome, brother,” Alicent called, stepping forward with a smile that she hoped conveyed warmth rather than the anxiety gnawing at her insides. 

“Sister,” Gwayne replied, his voice deep and rich with a familiarity that eased some of the tension in her shoulders. He approached her, inclining his head in a respectful greeting. “It is good to see you after so long.”

“And you as well, Gwayne,” Alicent said, her voice softer now, more genuine. “We have missed you here at court.”

Gwayne’s eyes flickered to Aemond, who had not yet spoken. “Aemond,” he greeted with a nod, but there was no warmth in his tone, only the formality of recognition between two men who were not entirely certain where they stood with one another.

“Gwayne,” Aemond responded, his voice clipped, the tension in him palpable. His eye scanned the ranks of Hightower knights, as if searching for someone. “Where is she?”

Gwayne’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “She will be here soon, Aemond. The journey from Oldtown was long and wearying.”

Alicent noted the careful wording and stepped in before her son could press further. “You must be exhausted after such a journey, all of you. The King has ordered that you be well cared for—rooms have been prepared, and a feast will be held in your honor.”

Gwayne nodded, accepting her words with a grace that belied the tension she could sense in him. “We are grateful, my lady.”

There was a brief pause, the silence heavy between them. Alicent felt the weight of unspoken questions, the rumors lingering like a shadow over their reunion. She searched Gwayne’s face for any sign that might betray him, but he was as unreadable as ever.

“How has Oldtown fared in these troubled times?” Alicent asked, choosing her words with care, hoping to probe gently without drawing blood.

Gwayne’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he recognized the maneuver for what it was. ��Oldtown remains strong, sister. The people are resilient, as they have always been. Daeron is well, a credit to our House. As for… other matters, all has been as it should be.”

The last words hung in the air, heavy with insinuation. Alicent caught the slight emphasis, the deliberate choice of words, and it set her on edge. Did he mean to reassure her, or to hide something more sinister? She could not tell.

Before she could press further, the sky above them darkened, and the unmistakable sound of massive wings beating the air filled the courtyard. A shadow passed over them, causing men to look up in awe and fear as a dragon circled above. But this was no ordinary dragon—this was Cannibal, the wild and ancient beast that had never been tamed, bonded only to her daughter.

The sight of the massive black dragon circling overhead sent a chill through Alicent. Cannibal was a fearsome creature, unpredictable and terrifying in its sheer size and ferocity. The fact that her daughter had bonded with such a beast had always unnerved Alicent, and now, seeing it here, so close to the Red Keep, that unease returned tenfold.

Aemond’s lips curved into a smirk as he watched the dragon’s descent. “It seems she has arrived,” he said, satisfaction coloring his tone.

Gwayne’s face was a study in conflicting emotions as he watched Cannibal. There was admiration, yes, but also a tension that Alicent did not miss. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, she thought she saw something akin to fear in his eyes—fear not of the dragon, but of what its presence might signify.

The dragon circled once more before veering off toward the Dragonpit, its massive wings slicing through the air with a sound like thunder. Alicent released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her heart racing in her chest. She turned to Gwayne, watching him closely, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” she asked, her voice light, though her eyes were sharp as they fixed on his face.

Gwayne forced a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. “She is a sight to behold, indeed.”

Alicent could see the effort it took for him to maintain his composure, and it only deepened her concerns. “I trust that her presence has not caused too much trouble in Oldtown?” she ventured, testing the waters.

“None at all,” Gwayne replied, but the answer came too quickly, too smoothly. “Her dragon is as much a part of her as her blood, is it not?”

“Of course,” Alicent agreed, but her mind was racing. Gwayne’s tension was palpable now, and she could not shake the feeling that there was something more beneath the surface. The way he had watched Cannibal, the slight tremor in his voice—these were not signs of a man completely at ease.

Before she could delve deeper, the sound of approaching footsteps caught their attention. Ser Criston Cole, ever the vigilant protector, strode into the courtyard, flanked by a contingent of Kingsguard. Behind him, veiled but unmistakable in her presence, walked her daughter, the niece of Gwayne Hightower, and the twin sister of Aemond.

Alicent’s heart leapt at the sight of her daughter, so regal and composed, yet she could not help but notice the tension in her as well. There was something different about her, something that had changed in the years since they had last seen one another.

Aemond stepped forward, his eye locked on his twin, but it was Gwayne who drew Alicent’s attention. His gaze was fixed on her daughter as well, and in that moment, Alicent saw the truth in his eyes—a truth she had feared but could no longer deny.

There was more between them than simple kinship. It was there in the way Gwayne’s breath hitched as he looked at her, in the way her daughter’s gaze flickered toward him before quickly looking away. It was in the tension that hung thick in the air, in the unspoken words that passed between them.

Alicent’s heart sank, her worst fears confirmed in the space of a heartbeat. She could see it now, plain as day—the connection between them, the bond that went beyond family, beyond duty. It was something deeper, something forbidden.

“Come, we must not keep the King waiting,” Otto’s voice cut through the tension, bringing them all back to the present.

Alicent forced herself to smile, to play the role she had been born into. “Indeed,” she agreed, her voice steady even as her mind churned with a thousand thoughts. “Let us return to the Red Keep.”

As they made their way back, Alicent found herself walking beside Gwayne. She glanced at him, trying to read his thoughts, but his expression was carefully controlled once more. Yet she could not forget the look in his eyes as he had watched her daughter, nor the way his hands had clenched at his sides when Cannibal had flown overhead.

“You must be proud,” she said softly, “of how far we have come, how strong our family has become.”

Gwayne glanced at her, his smile faint but polite. “I am, sister. We have much to be proud of.”

Alicent nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. She could not shake the feeling that everything was on the brink of unraveling, that the threads of their carefully woven lives were being pulled apart by forces they could not control.

And as they walked back toward the Red Keep, with Cannibal’s distant roar echoing in the sky above, Alicent could only hope that whatever came next, her family would survive it.

The flickering candlelight bathed the walls of her chambers in a soft, golden glow, casting silhouettes that danced across the tapestries and silken drapes. The air was thick with the scent of lavender, meant to soothe nerves and calm the mind, but tonight, it did little to ease the tension coiling within you.

You stood by the window, gazing out at the darkened sky, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Worry gnawed at you, like a persistent whisper at the back of your mind, and it only grew stronger as the door behind you creaked open. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was—the familiar presence, the unmistakable warmth that seemed to fill the room whenever he was near.

“Gwayne,” you whispered, turning to face him, the concern evident in your eyes.

He stepped into the room, his expression softened with affection as he looked at you. “You shouldn’t worry, my love,” he said, crossing the room with a few quick strides until he was standing before you, his hands reaching for yours.

“I can’t help it,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly as you took his hands in yours, gripping them tightly as if you feared he might slip away. “Aemond told me what they plan—how they expect one of Rhaenyra’s dragonriders at Rook’s Rest. It’s a trap, Gwayne. They mean to spring a trap, and you’ll be there with them.”

Gwayne’s expression hardened slightly at the mention of Aemond, but his voice remained gentle as he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I have faced worse, and I have always returned to you,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a tender caress. “I will return again, I promise you.”

“But this time…” Your voice broke, the fear creeping into your words. “This time feels different. Aemond is reckless, and Aegon… I don’t trust him to care for anyone but himself. What if something goes wrong?”

Gwayne leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he closed his eyes, as if trying to draw strength from your presence. “Nothing will go wrong,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “I will make sure of it.”

His words were meant to reassure, but you could hear the uncertainty beneath them, the fear that mirrored your own. You reached up, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer as if the closeness alone could protect him.

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your lips brushed against his. “Not now, not ever.”

His response was a soft, desperate kiss, one that quickly deepened as his hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him. There was a desperation in the way he kissed you, as if he too was trying to cling to the moment, to the safety of the here and now.

The kiss grew more urgent, more heated, and you could feel the tension in him, the way his fingers dug into your hips as if grounding himself in the sensation of your body against his. Your hands roamed over his chest, fingers tugging at the fabric, needing to feel his skin beneath your touch.

“Gwayne,” you gasped as he kissed down the column of your throat, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I don’t want to talk about war, or Aemond, or anyone else. Not right now.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark with desire and something deeper, something that went beyond words. “Then let’s not,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Let’s forget everything else, just for tonight.”

You nodded, and that was all the permission he needed. His hands moved to the laces of your gown, deftly working them free as you did the same with his tunic. The fabric fell away, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the chamber, but the chill was quickly replaced by the heat of his body as he pressed against you.

You let out a soft moan as his hands roamed over your bare skin, the touch both familiar and electrifying. There was no hesitation in the way he touched you, no uncertainty—only the confidence of a lover who knew every inch of your body, who had memorized the places that made you tremble, that made you sigh with pleasure.

He lifted you easily, setting you down on the table behind you with a force that sent a few scattered objects clattering to the floor. But neither of you paid them any mind. Your focus was entirely on each other, on the way his mouth found yours again, the way your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them as he positioned himself between them, his eyes locked on yours, watching the way your breath hitched, the way your body arched toward him in anticipation. The first slow, deliberate thrust drew a gasp from your lips, the familiar stretch filling you with a deep, aching need.

“Gwayne,” you moaned, your head falling back as you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. The sensation of him inside you was both comfort and torment, the slow drag of his body against yours driving you mad with desire.

He didn’t hold back, his movements quickening, each thrust more forceful than the last as he buried himself deeper inside you, his breath ragged against your neck. “They know,” he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of keeping control even as his body threatened to overwhelm him. “Alicent… Otto… they know about us.”

You bit back a cry of pleasure as you tightened around him, your hands gripping his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “I don’t care,” you whispered fiercely, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that silenced any further words. “I don’t want to think about them either.”

The kiss was consuming, a desperate melding of lips and tongues, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that was both frantic and familiar. The table beneath you creaked with the force of your movements, but you paid it no mind, lost in the sensation of him, in the heat that built between you, spiraling higher and higher until it threatened to consume you both.

His hands roamed over your body, as if memorizing every curve, every dip, the feel of you beneath his fingertips. And you responded in kind, your own hands exploring his body, the hard planes of muscle, the slickness of sweat that coated his skin as you moved together, faster, harder.

Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, your body arching off the table as the pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter until it was unbearable. “Gwayne,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you teetered on the edge of release, needing that final push.

“I’m here,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need, his pace quickening even further, driving you both toward the inevitable end. “I’m here, my love.”

The words sent you over the edge, your body shattering around him as you cried out, the pleasure washing over you in waves, pulling him along with you. He followed with a groan, his movements becoming erratic as he found his own release, his body tensing above you as he emptied himself inside you.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the feel of his body still joined with yours, the lingering warmth of pleasure that coursed through your veins. You clung to him, your hands gentle now, soothing as you held him close, not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose this moment.

But eventually, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes soft with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I love you,” he whispered, the words a balm to the fears that still lingered in the back of your mind.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice steady, but filled with the same deep emotion that he had shown you.

He kissed you again, this time slow and sweet, a promise in the way his lips lingered against yours. But as you held each other in the quiet aftermath, the world beyond your chambers slowly crept back in—the war, the dangers that awaited him at Rook’s Rest, the knowledge that nothing was certain.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours. For now, you were together, and that was all that mattered.

You sit astride your dragon, the wind whipping through your hair as Cannibal’s powerful wings cut through the air. The sound of battle echoes below, the clash of steel and the screams of men rising like a dark symphony. You can see the banners of House Targaryen and House Hightower waving in the distance, signaling the battlefield at Rook’s Rest. But your heart is not with the men below; it beats faster with each passing moment, drawn inexorably to the man on the hill, mounted on his horse, watching the sky with a tension that mirrors your own.

Gwayne.

He’s there, beside Ser Criston Cole, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. You know his eyes are on the horizon, where Meleys, the Red Queen, approaches with Rhaenys Targaryen astride her. His heart must be racing, as is yours, for different reasons. He knows the danger. You know the risk.

He’s always known, hasn’t he?

Even back in Oldtown, when you were sent away with Daeron, your brother, to be raised as a ward of House Hightower, it was clear that your life was bound to the iron will of your family. But it wasn’t duty that bound you to Gwayne; it was something else, something deeper, something forbidden.

It began with stolen glances, quiet moments in the gardens, and the brush of his hand against yours. Oldtown became your sanctuary, but it was Gwayne who became your world. The Hightower, with all its towering walls and ancient halls, held secrets—yours among them. The love that blossomed between you both was secret, tender, and as dangerous as the war that now rages around you.

Cannibal lets out a low, rumbling growl beneath you, sensing your anxiety. You press a hand to the black scales of his neck, grounding yourself. You were always a Targaryen, always bound to the dragons, but Cannibal… Cannibal was different. He was a creature of pure darkness, a beast of the old ways, feared and shunned by all but you. It was fitting, you suppose, that your fate would ride with such a dragon.

“Hold steady, Cannibal,” you murmur, though your eyes are fixed on Gwayne’s distant figure.

There’s no time to linger on thoughts of him. Meleys is close now, her crimson scales catching the light of the setting sun. Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, a seasoned dragonrider and a warrior born, is a formidable opponent. You know this as well as anyone. Your jaw tightens as you prepare for what’s to come.

Gwayne’s voice echoes in your mind, a memory from nights past. “You shouldn’t do this. It’s too dangerous.”

“This is what I was born to do,” you’d whispered back to him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “For the throne, for our family… for you.”

He hadn’t said anything more, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He’d known then that this day might come, and he’d feared it as much as you had.

A roar splits the air, snapping you back to the present. Rhaenys has begun her assault, Meleys unleashing a torrent of flame upon Cole’s men below. They scatter like leaves in the wind, consumed by the fire. The scorpion ballistas fire their harpoons, but Meleys is swift, her aerial maneuvers deft and practiced. The shots go wide, missing her entirely.

And then, another roar—this one deeper, more guttural—resonates through the skies. It’s a sound that stops your heart, and you know it’s the same for Gwayne, though he is miles away.

Cannibal.

The battlefield below stills for a moment, as if the very world is holding its breath. Then, the black shadow of your dragon falls across the earth, blocking out the sun as you and Cannibal descend upon the fray. Rhaenys turns her head, her eyes narrowing as she sees you. There’s no time for words, no time for the politics or the pain of family betrayal. There’s only the battle.

Cannibal’s jaws open, and a blast of dark fire shoots forth, aimed directly at Meleys. Rhaenys pulls her dragon to the side, just in time, the fire missing by a hair’s breadth. The air is thick with the stench of smoke and burning flesh, the screams of men below barely audible over the thunder of dragon wings.

Rhaenys maneuvers Meleys with precision, and you feel the thrill of the challenge rise within you. Cannibal surges forward, claws outstretched, and the two dragons clash in a tempest of scales and fury. The sky is a blur of red and black, fire and blood. Meleys snaps at Cannibal’s neck, but he twists, his tail whipping around to strike her side.

Gwayne watches from his position on the hill, his knuckles white as he grips the reins of his horse. He knows your style, knows the ferocity with which you fight. But this… this is something different. This is war.

Above, another dragon’s roar cuts through the din, and you know it’s Aegon on Sunfyre. He swoops in from the west, brilliant golden scales shining in the fading light. Aemond follows on Vhagar, the ancient dragon circling above, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

It’s a dance of death, a deadly game of strategy and strength. Cannibal and Sunfyre move in tandem, each attempting to flank Meleys, forcing her into a vulnerable position. You catch a glimpse of Rhaenys, her face set in grim determination, her lips moving as she urges her dragon on.

Cannibal snarls, his teeth snapping inches from Meleys’ throat, but she’s quick, too quick. She lashes out with her claws, raking them across Cannibal’s side. He roars in fury, and you feel the impact through the bond you share with him, the pain a sharp lance in your side.

But you don’t falter. You can’t. Not now.

Sunfyre dives, his maw open wide, but Meleys is ready. She turns, a stream of fire bursting from her jaws, and it engulfs Sunfyre. The golden dragon shrieks in agony, his wings catching fire, the delicate membrane burning away. Aegon is thrown from the saddle, his body a blazing comet as he plummets to the earth below.

“No!” The scream tears from your throat before you can stop it, the sight of your brother’s fall searing itself into your mind. But there’s no time to mourn, no time to grieve.

Cannibal takes advantage of the chaos, his claws digging into Meleys’ back as he forces her downward. The red dragon roars in defiance, but Cannibal is relentless, his jaws closing around her neck, ready to end it.And then it happens.

A scorpion ballista, aimed by desperate men, fires a harpoon meant for Rhaenys. But the aim is off, the bolt instead striking Cannibal’s side, driving deep into his flesh. The black dragon lets out a roar of agony, his grip on Meleys faltering. The pain is overwhelming, the bond between you and your dragon screaming with the shared agony.

“Cannibal!” The cry is torn from your lips as you feel him falter, feel his strength ebbing away. You’re falling now, the ground rushing up to meet you as Cannibal spirals out of control. The world blurs, the sky and earth blending into one as you plummet, your heart in your throat.

Gwayne watches in horror, his voice lost to the wind as he sees you falling, sees Cannibal spiraling down in a trail of blood and fire. He digs his heels into his horse’s sides, urging the beast forward, racing toward where you’ll land, desperate to reach you.

Above, Aemond’s fury is unleashed. Vhagar, enraged by the sight of his fallen kin, descends with a vengeance. The ancient dragon’s roar shakes the very earth as he closes in on Meleys, who is weakened, bloodied. Rhaenys barely has time to react before Vhagar’s jaws close around Meleys’ neck, and with a sickening crunch, it’s over.

Meleys falls, lifeless, to the ground, her crimson scales dulling as death claims her. Rhaenys, too, falls silent, her body still and broken beside her dragon.

But Gwayne’s thoughts are not with the dead queen or the defeated dragon. His only concern is you. He rides hard, faster than he’s ever ridden, his mind racing with fear and hope. He can’t lose you, not now, not like this.

Cannibal crashes into the earth with a sound like thunder, his massive body crumpling from the impact. The force of the fall throws you from the saddle, sending you tumbling across the scorched ground. Pain explodes through your body as you hit the earth, the breath knocked from your lungs.

Darkness edges your vision, but you fight it, fight to stay conscious. You can’t succumb, not yet. Gwayne is coming. You have to hold on.

As the world begins to fade, you hear it—the sound of hooves pounding against the earth, growing closer, and closer. Gwayne. He’s coming for you. You try to move, to reach for him, but the pain is too much, your body too broken.

The last thing you see before the darkness claims you is his face, twisted in anguish, as he leaps from his horse. 

You barely feel the impact as you fall into his arms, the world around you blurring into a haze of pain and shadows. Gwayne's voice is a distant echo, calling your name, but the sound is faint, drowned by the thunderous roar of the battle still raging in the skies above.

"Stay with me," Gwayne pleads, his voice thick with desperation. His hands tremble as they touch your face, your hair, as if he's afraid you're already slipping away. Blood is everywhere—yours, Cannibal's, staining the ground beneath you. He can't seem to stop the flow, no matter how hard he tries.

"Cannibal..." you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. Your hand reaches out instinctively, searching for the bond you've always felt so strongly. But there's only silence. Cannibal, the dragon who was feared by all, lies broken, motionless, his once powerful body now just a dark mass on the blood-soaked earth. The bond between you and your dragon fades, leaving a gaping void in your heart.

Gwayne’s heart shatters at the sight of your pale face, your bloodied form cradled in his arms. He knows he should call for the maester, for anyone who can help, but the thought of leaving your side, even for a moment, is unbearable. He pulls you closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your cold skin.

"You’re going to be fine," he says, but the words sound hollow, even to his own ears. There’s too much blood, too much pain, and he can see the life slipping from your eyes. "You have to be fine. I won’t let you go. I can’t..."

You try to speak, to comfort him as you always have, but the effort is too great. The darkness is pulling you down, dragging you away from him, and there’s nothing you can do to fight it. The world is growing colder, quieter, and all you can think about is Gwayne. How much you wanted to tell him that you loved him, how much you wanted to stay with him, away from the chaos of the war that has torn your family apart.

Gwayne’s tears fall freely now, his chest tightening with grief. He’s never felt so helpless, so utterly powerless. He presses his lips to your forehead, a silent vow passing between you both.

"I will keep you safe," he whispers, his voice breaking. "No matter what, I will keep you safe. I swear it on my life, my love. I will not lose you. Not to this war, not to anyone."

The sound of approaching footsteps jolts him back to reality, and he looks up to see Ser Criston Cole riding towards them, his expression grim. Behind him, the battlefield is a smoldering ruin, the bodies of men and dragons alike littering the ground. Aegon’s fall has sent a shockwave through their ranks, and the once glorious day has turned into a nightmare.

"Get her to the maester, now!" Cole commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Aegon’s alive but barely, and we need to regroup. We can’t afford to lose her too."

Gwayne doesn’t respond, his focus solely on you. With a strength born of sheer will, he lifts you into his arms, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. In his mind, you are.

As he carries you toward the tents, each step feels like a mile, the weight of his promise bearing down on him. The battle rages on, but in that moment, Gwayne doesn’t care about the throne, the war, or even his duty. All that matters is you, and the vow he’s made to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

He won’t let you die. He can’t. Not when there’s so much left unsaid, so much left to live for. He’ll fight for you, as fiercely as you’ve fought on the back of your dragon. And if it means going against the very family he’s sworn to serve, then so be it.

As Gwayne reaches the maester’s tent, he refuses to let go of you, even as the maester tries to take you from his arms. He holds on, even as the world around him spins out of control. He won’t let go. He can’t. 

And as the darkness finally overtakes you, the last thing you hear is his voice, a whispered promise that anchors you to the world.

“I will keep you safe,” he vows again, and this time, the words are as unbreakable as the bond you once shared with your dragon.

Even if it takes his last breath, Gwayne Hightower will not fail you.

[lvnleah]

Welcome Home Rory.

nervous about posting this but here it is! I tried to make this as accurate as possible with the adoption process but I’m sorry if it’s wrong 💗💗

MARCH 2023

Beth and Viv always knew they wanted kids, it was something that had been brought up on their very first date. So when the conversation about having kids came up one evening, the two weren’t shocked or unprepared. 

They sat together on their couch, Beth resting her head on Viv's shoulder. "Viv, do you still want to have a child?”

Viv paused the TV, nodding her head, “Yeah I do, why Mijn liefje?”

“I want to have a baby. I don’t feel like getting pregnant right now," Beth began, "With our schedules and everything, it just seems so complicated and I don’t think I could be out for longer than I’m already going to be.”

Viv nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I’d love to have a child right now but I don’t think I could handle pregnancy. What about adoption? I think we’re ready for a baby but neither of us is ready to go through pregnancy.”

A warm smile spread across Beth's face. "I've been thinking the same thing. We could give a child a family, it’d work out well too because we’ve got time at the moment to get to know them."

The couple had both been out with their ACLs for around four months now, just weeks between their injuries, so it meant that they had a lot of extra time on their hands. 

Beth reached for her laptop on the coffee table, "Let's start looking into the process. We have a good support system, and I'm sure our families will be thrilled."

Viv squeezed Beth's hand, "Absolutely. We should also get in touch with an adoption agency. I know it can take a while, but I'm ready to start this journey with you."

The couple spent hours that night researching the different types of adoption, they never knew there were so many choices. They could adopt from foster care, internationally or privately. They settled on foster care, something that felt right for them. 

The next few weeks were long and filled with lots of paperwork. In between their rehab, they filled out different applications and went through many background checks and interviews to make sure they were suitable to be parents. 

Their social worker, Sarah, carried out many home checks to see if their home would be right for a child. Beth and Viv had never been as anxious in their life as they showed the older woman around. 

“Thank you for showing me around your home,” Sarah smiled as she gathered her things, “I’ll be in contact within the next few days but I can assure you that you have a very loving home. The child you adopt will be so lucky to have you as their parents. I’m more than certain you’ll be approved.”

Viv and Beth exchanged an excited smile, “Thank you, Sarah.” Beth politely smiled.

They showed Sarah out before closing the door. Beth stood with her back to the door, an excited smile on her face before running into Viv’s arms. 

“We’re going to be approved!” Viv grinned as she lifted Beth off of the floor.

A few days later, their approval came through and they were officially put on the adoption list. Days turned into weeks as Beth and Viv waited, their anticipation growing with each passing moment. 

They continued with their rehab, trying to keep themselves busy, but the thought of their future child was always at the forefront of their minds.

One morning in late April, Beth's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. She glanced at the screen and saw Sarah's name. Her heart skipped a beat as she answered the call.

"Hello, Sarah?"

"Hi, Beth! I have some wonderful news. We've matched you with a little girl named Rory. She’s four years old and has been in foster care for six months after her grandmother passed away. Would you be willing to meet her?”

Beth's eyes filled with tears of joy. "Oh my gosh, Sarah, that's incredible! When can we meet her?"

Sarah's laughter came through the phone. "How about tomorrow? We can arrange a visit at her foster home, and you can spend some time with her."

Beth quickly agreed, and as soon as she hung up, she rushed to find Viv. "Viv, we've been matched! Her name is Rory, and we can meet her tomorrow!"

Viv's face lit up with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "Really? That's amazing!”

The couple spent the rest of the day preparing for their visit, making sure they had everything they might need to make a good first impression.

They hardly slept that night and were anxiously up the next morning. They arrived at Rory’s foster home, their hearts pounding with anticipation.

Sarah greeted them at the door, leading them inside to a cosy living room where Rory was playing with some toys with her foster mother. She looked up with curious eyes as Beth and Viv entered the room.

“Rory?” Sarah called out, grabbing the attention of the four-year-old. Rory’s head turned around, “I have some people I’d like you to meet.”

Rory shyly walked over with her foster mom, her fingers in her mouth while her other arm held her stuffed teddy. 

“This is Beth,” Sarah smiled, pointing to Beth, “And this is Vivianne but you can call her Viv.”

"Hi, Rory," Beth said softly, kneeling to her level. "I'm Beth, and this is Viv. We’ve been so excited to meet you."

Rory studied them for a moment before giving a shy smile. "Hi."

“Hi Rory,” Viv smiled, Rory’s face screwing up in confusion at Viv’s accent, “Who’s this little guy?” Viv asked, tickling the stomach of Rory’s teddy. 

Rory looked up at her foster mom who gave her a nod, “Twix.” Rory mumbled shily. 

Viv gasped excitedly, “That’s a great name! Want to know a secret?” She asked Rory, getting a small smile and a nod, “At home, I have a teddy! His name is Flip, maybe one day we can have a teddy play date!”

Rory nodded, jumping on the spot a little, “Yes, yes! Twix loves to play, do you like to play?” 

Beth and Viv exchanged a smile, their heartwarming at how sweet Rory was, “We love to play!” Beth smiled, “What kind of stuff do you and Twix like to play?”

Rory’s eyes lit up and she thought for a moment, “We like playing hide and seek! Oh! And colouring, you like colouring?”

“We do!” Viv smiled, nodding her head. 

“You colour with me now?” Rory asked, getting a nod from the couple before taking their hands into hers, “Okay! Follow me!”

They spent the afternoon getting to know Rory, playing games, and reading stories. Her initial shyness gradually gave way to giggles and laughter as she warmed up to them. Beth and Viv couldn't help but giggle at everything the little girl did.

As the visit came to an end, Rory clung to Beth's hand, looking up at her with wide eyes. "Are you coming back?"

Beth's heart melted. "Yes, Rory. We’ll see you again very soon, okay?"

Over the next few days, Beth and Viv started to spend more time with Rory, which eventually progressed into full days together. Once Rory was comfortable, they took her to the park, enjoying picnics and playtime in the sunshine.

One day, after a full day of laughter and running around, Rory fell asleep in Viv’s arms on the way back to the car.

“Vivi!” Rory tiredly called out, her grip on Twix tight.

Viv looked down at the little girl. “Yes, mijn liefje?”

“I’m so tired!” Rory whined, stopping in her tracks. “Carry me, please?”

Viv smiled warmly, kneeling so she could scoop Rory into her arms. “Of course, sweetheart. You’ve been such a busy little bee today!”

As Viv cradled her, Rory nestled against her shoulder, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to stay awake. Beth walked alongside them, her heart swelling at the sight of them together.

“Looks like someone had a fun day,” Beth teased gently.

“Yeah,” Rory mumbled, barely opening her eyes. “Best day ever.”

Viv chuckled softly, adjusting her hold. “We’re so glad you think so! What was your favourite part?”

“Swinging!” Rory exclaimed, her enthusiasm barely contained even in her sleepy state. “And the ice cream!”

Beth grinned. “You were pretty impressive on those swings. You went so high!”

“I want to go higher next time!” Rory declared, her voice growing softer.

As they drove back to Rory’s foster home, the quiet hum of the car was comforting. Viv occasionally glanced back to see Rory peacefully sleeping, Twix nestled against her. 

When they arrived there, Beth carefully unbuckled Rory and lifted her into her arms. “Let’s get you into bed, sleepyhead,” she whispered.

Rory stirred slightly but didn’t wake. They rang the doorbell before tiptoeing inside, Viv quietly followed, grabbing Rory’s blanket. 

In her room, Beth laid Rory down, tucking her in gently. “Sweet dreams, little one,” she said softly, brushing a stray hair from Rory’s forehead.

Viv stood by the door, watching with a smile before the couple said goodbye to Rory’s foster mother. The couple climbed into their care before making their way home. 

Beth turned to Viv, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe how much joy she’s already brought into our lives.”

“She’s a little ray of sunshine, isn’t she?” Viv agreed. 

Beth nodded, “It feels like we’ve known her forever.”

“Right?” Viv smiled. “I think she’s already starting to feel at home with us.”

Eventually, once Rory was even more comfortable she expressed how she wanted to stay overnight with Beth and Viv. Sarah, their social worker, quickly arranged the overnight stay, excited about Rory’s growing attachment.

The night finally arrived, and the couple prepared their home to make it as welcoming as possible. They set up a cosy corner in the living room with blankets and pillows, creating a perfect little nest for movie night. 

When Rory arrived, she was bouncing with excitement, holding Twix tightly. “I’m ready for a sleepover!” she declared, her eyes sparkling. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“Absolutely,” Viv laughed, brushing a strand of hair from Rory’s face. “What do you want to watch?”

“Can we watch a princess movie?” Rory asked, her face lighting up as they headed inside. 

“Of course!” Beth replied, already pulling out a selection of their favourite films. They settled on Rapunzel, a classic, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of music and laughter.

As they cuddled together under the blankets, Rory sat in the middle as Beth sneaked in some popcorn, handing it to Rory with a grin. “Movie snacks are a must!”

Rory giggled, “This is the best!”

After the movie, they moved to the kitchen to make their mini pizzas. Rory was excited to help, spreading sauce and adding cheese and toppings with careful precision. 

“Look! I made a smiley face!” Rory exclaimed, proudly showing off her creation.

“That’s amazing!” Viv cheered, giving her a high-five. “You’re an artist!”

As they waited for the pizzas to bake, they played games and chatted. Rory shared stories about her favourite things, from her love of animals to her favourite games at the park.

When it was finally time to eat, the pizzas came out hot and bubbling. They gathered around the table, laughter filling the air as they enjoyed their creations. 

“This is the best sleepover food!” Rory declared, her mouth full of pizza.

After dinner, it was time for bed. Beth and Viv helped Rory brush her teeth and change into her pyjamas. As they settled into the living room with Rory nestled between them, they read her a bedtime story.

“Do you like this one?” Beth asked, holding up a colourful book that Rory had packed with her. 

“Yes! Read it!” Rory said eagerly.

As Beth read aloud, Viv brushed Rory’s hair back gently. Rory listened, wide-eyed and engaged, making them both realise how far they had come in such a short time.

When the story ended, Rory yawned and snuggled closer to Viv. “Can we do this every night?” she murmured sleepily.

Beth exchanged a glance with Viv, her heart swelling. “We’d love to, Rory.”

Rory's eyes fluttered shut, and soon she was fast asleep, a peaceful smile on her face.

As Beth and Viv sat quietly, watching her sleep, Viv whispered, “I can’t believe how quickly she’s become part of us.”

Beth nodded and soon Viv scooped Rory up before carrying her to the room they’d set up for her. They both tucked her in, leaving the door on a jar before retreating to the living room. 

Later that night, they moved to the kitchen to clean up. “We should plan more activities for the weekends,” Viv suggested. “Maybe a trip to the zoo?”

Beth smiled, already imagining the fun they would have. “That sounds perfect. She’ll love it!”

After everything was cleaned up, they settled on the couch, before heading to bed and checking on Rory, who was still sound asleep. “I think we’re doing great,” Beth said, a mix of disbelief and joy in her voice.

“Yeah, we are,” Viv replied softly, taking Beth’s hand in hers. “And it feels incredible.”

Finally, a few weeks later, Viv and Beth were approved to adopt Rory and officially became her parents. When Viv and Beth told Rory the news, it was like Christmas morning. 

“Rory?” Beth said, sitting down beside the four-year-old. 

Rory looked up, “Yeah, Beffy?”

“So, me and Vivi were wondering,” Beth started, “Would you like to live with us? Like sleepover, every single night and stay with us forever?”

Rory's eyes widened, and she blinked in surprise. The question hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed like time itself held its breath. Then, with a radiant smile that could light up the darkest room, Rory nodded vigorously.

"Really, really, really?" she exclaimed, “I get to live with you like all my friends live with their Mummies and Daddies?”

Beth and Viv exchanged a glance, their hearts swelling with emotion. "Yes, Rory," Beth said, her voice steady. "We want you to be a part of our family forever."

Rory's joy bubbled over, and she flung her arms around both of them, hugging them tightly. "I love you, Beffy and Vivi!" she declared, her words muffled against their shoulders.

Tears welled up in Beth's eyes as she hugged Rory back. "We love you too, sweetie," she whispered. "More than anything."

Viv and Beth worked with Rory’s foster family on packing up all of her belongings, for one little girl there sure were a lot of clothes and toys. Rory said her goodbyes to her foster family before Viv helped strap her into the car. 

The drive home was filled with Rory singing along to all the different songs Viv and Beth had put onto a playlist of her, a few of them being Viv’s favourite Taylor Swift songs. 

When they arrived home, Rory was so excited to see before running off to her room to see how Viv and Beth had decorated. It was everything the little girl could’ve ever dreamed of. 

The walls were pink just like she’d asked for and she had a true princess-style bed. There was a bookshelf in the corner, filled with all of her favourite books, as well as a little teepee for her to read in. 

The couple spent the evening settling Rory in, after dinner they settled down onto the couch with Rory in her pyjamas and close by. 

“Vivi, Beffy?” Rory asked. 

Beth brushed back Rory’s hair from the spot she sat in between the couple, “Yes, sweetie?”

“My friends at school,” Rory started, anxiously playing with the ear of Twix, “they have parents and they call them Mummy and Daddy. What do I call you?”

Viv looked at Beth before speaking, “Well you can call us what you want. You can call us Beth and Viv, you can call us Mummy and Mamma or whatever you feel comfortable with!”

Rory hummed and thought for a second before speaking, “I like Mummy and Mamma!”

“Well you can call us that if you want, it’s totally up to you,” Beth smiled. 

“Mummy and Mamma!” Rory smiled, “I like that! You my Mummy and Mamma!”

Beth and Viv exchanged a happy grin and eventually Rory fell asleep in between them. They carried the little girl to her bed before heading back to the living room. 

Soon, a soft sound interrupted them. They looked over to see Rory standing in the doorway, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “Can I sleep with you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, sweetie,” Beth said, smiling.

Viv walked over to Rory before she knelt to Rory's level. “You want to come snuggle with us for a bit?”

Rory nodded, her face lighting up. Viv carried her over to the couch, Rory still holding Twix tightly.

As they all settled in, Beth wrapped an arm around both Viv and Rory. “This is perfect,” she said softly.

Viv leaned in closer, planting a kiss on Rory’s head. “We’re so lucky to have you, Rory.”

[doumadono]

ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a turning point for me. I've been silent for too long, but I can't stay quiet anymore.

I'm going through writer's burnout, and it has hit me hard. I've been writing on Tumblr and Ao3 for nearly eight years now (with about 1.5 years on my private blog, doumadono). Over that time, I've written more than 400 stories across various fandoms, created the Sinful Sunday event and a series that many people like, helped many with numerous emergency requests — so many that one masterlist wasn't enough to cover them all.

But all of this has brought me to a place where writing no longer feels like a joy, but rather a duty. In my effort to make everyone happy, I lost myself and took on too much, accepting even the most twisted and difficult requests. It made me anxious and unwell whenever I thought about writing. This is why I haven't been posting much these past few weeks. I missed the breaking point and let myself reach a place where I was seriously considering quitting writing altogether and closing both my Tumblr and Ao3 accounts.

There's something else I need to address. I feel completely detached from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer. I no longer feel comfortable writing for those fandoms. From now on, I'll be focusing mostly on My Hero Academia. Even though the manga recently ended, both the manga and the anime hold a special place in my heart. I’ve fallen in love with the story and its amazing characters. This is what feels right to me at this moment. That doesn't mean I'll never write for Demon Slayer or other fandoms again, but not now, not at this time. Maybe in the future — who knows?

Some of you might know that I've been dealing with a flood of hateful anonymous messages. Even though I’ve grown stronger and no longer consider them relevant, it still hurts to read such nasty words. This is another factor why I need to take a break.

So, what's going to change?

Sinful Sunday will no longer cover requests, and the event won't be as regular as it used to be. From now on, I'll post some sinful pieces specifically written for this event whenever I feel it's right. I'll write only for the characters I feel attached too.

Emergency requests will be limited to two slots and will no longer have a 48-hour window to be fulfilled. Once both slots are taken, emergency requests will be closed until I manage to clear the current asks in my inbox.

As of today, my ask box has been completely cleared. I won't be replying to any past asks, regardless of their origin or topic.

Commissions will remain open, as nearly all the requests have been fulfilled.

Regarding the following projects:

The Kvitravn series will be completed this year, but I can't provide a specific date just yet as I'm still working hard to bring everything together.

There's also a new series on the horizon featuring Dabi in the lead role, with a psychiatrist!Reader as the other main character.

As for Kinktober, I made a hard decision it will not be held as an event on my blog this year at all.

As of now, I want to focus on my own little My Hero Academia based AU that I created with my best friend @crystalwolfblog , and this is something that brings me a lot of comfort nowadays, and it's what I want to focus on. I’ll likely create another blog to post everything related to this AU, to keep things organized (the blog will be linked to my pinned post). This little AU was and is my safe haven for the past year and half, and since it contains all of my favourite characters, I want to focus on it fully.

The time for purification has come. I need to rediscover my purpose and find joy in writing again. To those who understand and have stuck with me since the ThePaperPanda days — you’re amazing and adorable, and I can never express how much I appreciate you, guys 💞

I want to share one last thought. This isn’t a statement, but rather a plea to readers: please respect writers, no matter the content they choose to explore. Writing is not as easy as it may seem; it requires a significant amount of time and effort, often taking up our personal time to craft a story. Don't send anon hate. Spread love instead! The least you can do to show your appreciation is to leave a comment, even if it’s just a word or two. For you, it’s a small gesture that takes less than a minute, but for the writer on the other side, it may be a much-needed sign that their work is meaningful. So if you enjoy an author’s work, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. It truly makes us writers feel like we’re on cloud nine.

Love you all, Marcianna

[hellsitedotcom]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Relationship Headcanons ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

ft. Robin, Firefly, Kafka.

˚₊‧ I've been writing a lot for my favorite men, even though I would drop all of them for a chance with any of these women, lol. So, here's some thoughts on my favorite women of HSR in relationships ˚₊‧

warnings: none - any mentions of kissing/physical touch are really brief; reader has no specified gender.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

‧₊˚✧ [KAFKA]✧˚₊‧

⇢ Not exactly sure why, but when I think of spending time with Kafka - or being in a relationship with her - my brain automatically pictures a more elegant, sophisticated(?) kind of life with her.

⇢ She's the kind to shower you in gifts (preferably clothing, jewelry, accessories like that) - not in a suffocating manner, but whenever she's out and about, she'll find something that she thinks would be perfect for you.

⇢ Secretly adores just spending quality time with you while some classic music is playing in the back - or any other calm, peaceful background music, though she'd definitely prefer something ''instrumental''.

⇢ While she's not necessarily the ''listener'' in your dynamic, she loves just listening to you tell her about your day, or talk about your interests, etc. When it comes to her being the talkative one, she feels...well, as peaceful and secure as she can around you, something that (to people close to her) even reflects in her expression.

⇢ Definitely compliments you all the time. If it's not a direct and obvious compliment, then its ''subtly hidden'' in a sentence she dropped while walking past you, or while you're both just minding your own business while working.

⇢ And, for the people that are fans of kissing and intimacy and such: She loves having an arm around you (or a hand on your lower back). It's her favorite way of showing affection to you regardless of the setting. Privately, she also enjoys kissing your cheek or the palm of your hands, if not even your shoulders. Plus, she prefers spooning you over being spooned.

‧₊˚✧ [FIREFLY]✧˚₊‧

⇢ I'm struggling a little to put into words what I mean, but I see Firefly as someone who leads a more ''calm'' life when in a relationship, while still being...lively.

⇢ Let me try to explain: I see her as someone who will always love going on ''dates'' with you, just nothing overly ''extreme'', like...rock climbing or something (lol). She loves exploring new places with you, going sightseeing or stargazing, or simply watching a theater performance, etc. More...''casual'' stuff.

⇢ She's always full of energy with you, and she loves going to festivals or events with you - and while she does enjoy being there for the sake of the events/vibes, she more so loves spending time with you doing something that brings you both joy/excitement.

⇢ I see her as someone who, while definitely enjoying to get you gifts, does so more rarely and takes her time to find something that's more...personal. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd do a pottery course just to make you a personalized coffee cup or something.

⇢ Has dozens of pictures of you two, be it selfies during dates or festivals, or just random pictures of you...just existing, basically. There's definitely a whole photo album stashed away in a drawer. And, for special occasions, she definitely gifts you framed pictures of you two.

⇢ And, regarding what kind of kisser/touchy partner she'd be: Definitely more shy and giddy when it comes to it. She's always really excited when kissing you, but her kisses are more on the fleeting/quick end. Definitely more of a little spoon, and adores holding your hand - she'll want to hold it anytime she can.

‧₊˚✧ [ROBIN]✧˚₊‧

⇢ I want to be cliché and say that relationships with her seem like straight out of a romance movie or something, and while it would sound somewhat dramatic, I do believe that she has this...gentle, beautiful, soft vibe to her relationships.

⇢ While it's a little harder to have complete privacy in public given Robin's profession & popularity, I feel like Robin would adore going on picnics. She definitely loves picking flowers, being gifted flowers, or making flower crowns. Also, just walking around the city and going through e.g. craft stores.

⇢ I can also see her enjoy watching the sunset/sunrise together. She's a big fan of spending the morning together with you while you prepare breakfast, dancing and singing together with you - the same counts for dinner in the evening. Big on baking cookies and such! And she loves handing a few batches of cookies out to neighbors, etc.

⇢ Definitely a person that enjoys physical touch and quality time. While she loves being cuddled by you, I believe that she prefers being the one to hold you, playing with your hair while she hums a melody (which often leads to you falling asleep in her lap). She feels an incredible serenity while just existing beside you.

⇢ Robin would love to teach you how to play an instrument, or just take you somewhere for you both to learn new skills. Once again, just spending quality time with you is incredibly important to her. When you do learn something new together, she loves having some decoration or anything to display that achievement/memory at home.

⇢ And, last but not least, how she is when it comes to touchiness & kissing: Robin's definitely the most gentle kisser of the Three, though I think she'd be more on the receiving end of kisses - loves when you kiss her nose, makes her giggle. You'll mostly catch her kiss your lips & your forehead. And, she loves holding onto your arm when you're walking around in public. Also a big on hugs.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Husband + G.N Monster Reader

A Slightly Fluffy/Slightly Suggestive Holiday Blurb

-

What do you get someone who has everything?

"You're asking me what I want for Christmas? Why would I want anything else when I already have everything I need? A nice house, a loving spouse. I'd say I'm set for life- so why don't you tell me what you'd like this year, Sweetheart."

He's so difficult sometimes- Your dear husband had always made sure the holiday season was special for you. Even as a college student with little to his name, he wanted you to experience the same magic he witnessed as a child when his parents were forced to play the part of attentive caretakers. Presents, festive activities, decorating the house. As you've never had the pleasure of these traditions due to your origins your husband made it his duty to give you everything and more- well, except for one thing.

You wanted to be the one to go all out for him for once. To see the joy and happiness in his eyes when he unwraps the perfect present that you picked out yourself. You've tried asking him. You've tried watching him to learn more about the little things he enjoys, but it's all you. All he wants for Christmas is your life. He enjoys cooking and gardening because they're things that keep you happy and cared for.

His entire life revolved around you - and as such, the answer to your blight has been in your lap the entire time.

-

Your husband arrives home an hour early. You expected him to get off a little early due to the holiday, but what you hadn't guessed was that he'd bring guests. Springing up from your sprawled out position on the couch, you rush to the front door - grabbing and hastily tossing on a coat as the choir of voices and the jostling of keys grows closer. Securing the belt strap around your waist and a scarf around your neck, you wait for the click out of outside lock and a knock on the frame before sliding back the bolt on your side of the door. Your husband lights up like a christmas tree seeing you standing there - the soft flush of his pale cheeks accented by the warm flow of the lights strung around your shared home.

Evan steps through the door, excitement dripping from his every move as he throws his arms at your waist. "You're already dressed. I meant to call you, but I left my phone back at the office."

Glancing over his shoulder, you hug your coat tighter to your chest - cold winds nawing at the thick layers of your flesh. "Evan...Who are they?"

Evan looks back at his colleagues. He told them to stay in their cars, but what goes in on ear goes right out the other. Are they scaring you? "A few friends from work. There's a party at the office I completely forgot about today and they followed me since I've already had a couple glasses. I thought it might be a good way for you to get to know some of them.

You shift uncomfortably under their gaze. "Evan, can I talk to you privately."

"Of course." Evan shuts the front door behind him without even addressing his coworkers. Your safety was more important. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... I was just wondering if we should stay home tonight... I have a gift I wanted to give you early."

The worry drains from his face. "Oh, hun- you didn't have to go through all that trouble for me. I've told you before that you're the greatest gift I could ever ask for. We can open it when we get home.

"Are you sure you don't want a peak now?"

His brows scrunch up in confusion. Cupping your hand against his ear, you untie your belt - letting the loose fitting coat fall freely. Even at your height the coat was a little big on you as it had been commissioned by your sweet husband as a present a few years back. The flush of his cheeks reaches all the way to his ears as you whisper.

"You've always say I'm the best gift you have ever received."

Hands tear the coat further from your shoulders. Evan looks from your face, to the ribbons wrapped around your thighs and torso, laced across your body with a finished bow sitting center on your chest. It was fitted tastefully enough to cover your assets, but with tiny imperfections between the layers of ribbon and its transparency if he tilted his head just right-

Evan presses his palm to his mouth to mask the shaky breath he exhales.

"Well?"

"Excuse me for one moment."

Evan covers you back up with a kiss to your shoulder. You press your ear to the front door as he steps back outside.

"I'm really sorry, guys. My spouse came down with something while I was out. They're extremely sick right now. You might not even hear from us till the new years. Enjoy the party!"

As cautious as he is, you've never seen your husband neglect to lock the upper locks on the front door as he did when he returned to your side. Evan sweeps you off your feet with little effort thanks to all the training he'd done for that express reason. Hooking your arms around him as he carries you to bed - you plant wet kisses to the already scarred areas of his neck and cheek.

"Do you like your present?"

Evan kisses your jaw. "None can compare...... but maybe you should ask again once I get this ribbon off.

[corydora-writes]

Baby Bird

Summary: You tell Dick that you're carrying the essence of new life.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Plus Size Female Reader.

A/N: Writing self-indulgent fan fiction has been a source of comfort for me and a private outlet for my feelings. This particular piece was penned two years ago when I was expecting my baby girl and coping with the absence of her father. Fairies held a special place in my heart at that time, which is why the reader (you) is of fairy and human lineage in the story. After revisiting my writing works, I've decided to share it with you. I hope it brings you some joy! x

Word Count: 945

After debriefing with the Titans, Dick found spare time to call you. Not a second went by that he didn't think of you. Your absence each second was arduous. Eternal.  He grabbed the phone from his locker, and the screen lit up, showcasing a candid photo he had taken of you at a community carnival event for low-income families in Bludhaven.  The trace of a smile broke the grime line of his lips as he recalled your effort and determination, actions that spoke of passion, of zest to help those downtrodden by a system. Seeing you embrace the children had flickered to life a sudden longing and desire for a family.  Not wanting to waste more time in his reveries, Dick dialed you.  "My love," you said and sighed in relief. "What a relief to hear from you and a surprise."  "Our briefing tonight was, well, brief," Dick joked, and he heard you giggle. Your laughter was a joyful, melodic sound, and Dick found himself joining you in a wide smile.  "I miss you every second of the day," you said with heartfelt sincerity.  "Hey, me too," Dick replied.  "Now that I've stepped down as Moonbow, I have spent a lot of time at the clinic," your voice softened, and Dick sensed a hint of cheer in your voice. He wondered if you reconciled with stepping down as a superhero. He recalled comforting you when you were distraught and inexplicably felt out of touch with your powers.  "You don't sound as upset about it as you were before I left," he said.  "Dick," you uttered his name so softly that it felt like you were there caressing him. "I need to see you, please. Even if it's for a minute." There was an urgent tone in your voice, and Dick felt his stomach drop.  "I'm all yours," he said.  As you both closed your eyes, fully focused on establishing a connection that would enable teleportation, you could feel the energy buzzing around you. After mere seconds, Dick sensed a familiar presence and, as he opened his eyes, he was astonished to see you standing just a few feet away. In that moment, you appeared in your fairy form, with delicate, gossamer wings and pointy ears peeking through your hair. You wore a long sky blue neck halter gown that modeled every curve of your body from your neck to a line below your hips, then flared out into a flowing skirt. The sight of your ethereal beauty could make anyone halt to admire you.  You stood there absolutely silent as if contemplating what you needed to tell Dick. Then, as though you made up your mind to something, your lips parted in an inviting smile, and with your smile, the whole ambient of the dull room changed. It became alive, animated, and comforting.  Not wanting to waste further seconds, you ran to Dick, and he wrapped his arms around you. He relished your perfume's delightful languor and aroma that enthralled his senses.  He let you go and looked at him, and a weight settled in Dick's gut.  You reached out to lock your arms around Dick's neck and gently rubbed your thumbs on his neck in a tender caress. 

"Your daughter and I need you to return to us safely," you whispered lovingly.  Your words echoed in his mind until it settled, and the cognizance kicked in. His chest brimmed with profound love and affection. 

"I'm going to be a father?" 

You nodded and smiled with encouragement. Your eyes were warm and comforting. 

Dick answered the passion rising inside him, bent his head slightly to you, and kissed you full on the lips. His pulse began to pound like thunder in his ears. It was clear to him, as he reveled in the passionate kiss, that he had been without your intimacy for far too long.  The kiss was gentle, cajoling, yet resolute. His hands grasped the back of your waist and coaxed you against his solid, toned chest.  When at last your mouth lifted, setting him free, you let your forehead drop to his shoulder that was bulky from the armor of his suit. "I don't want to let you go," Dick said eventually. He sounded far from pleased by the fact. "I don't want to leave my family."  "Me either," you answered softly. "But we will be waiting for you." You let go of Dick and stepped back. You held your hands out and put both palms on each other to manipulate energy. You released your palm to reveal a blue hyacinth.  "Our daughter has an affinity for harvesting and agriculture," you began, "and she made this grow as soon as I had mentioned that I wanted to see you, so I think this is for you."  You held out the hyacinth to him, and he graciously took it. His gaze was filled with adoration for you and your daughter. He lowered his head to your growing belly and said, "Thank you for the gift, my blossom. I already adore you and can't wait to spend more time with you and sing the lullabies your grandparents sang to me." 

His attention shifted to the second stem sprouting and blooming from the same hyacinth planter. 

"I think that means she approves and loves the idea," you added cheerfully. Dick turned his gaze on you and stood in absolute awe of what he'd just witnessed. He already loved his daughter.

"Dick!" Raven shouted from above the room and interrupted their moment.  Dick frowned as he knew it was time to leave.  "I will come back, I promise," he said, striving to keep his tone neutral. It was a promise that he swore to uphold.

[grenade-maid]

Honestly been really drawn to crossdressing romance manga the last few years. The fact there is such a focus on passing, anxiety over what the other partner might think or feel, the satisfaction of presenting in ways that feel good, the joy of being loved and desired in different forms, and the generally kind of weird funny fluid nature of gender and attraction all feel very relatable to me in ways that Yuri, and even Western lesbian and trans comics don't always reflect. "Is this gay or straight? Am I gay for this? Are *they* gay for this? Whatever is going on here it's not *not* gay and either way I'm committed" is a pretty unique mix of emotions familiar to my bi trans experience after all lol. Unfortunately most of them range from merely sucking to nuclear weapons grade hateful, so it's pretty rare to find a good one.

These pages really made me happy though. These two don't really get along as coworkers, but are immediately head over heels goofy eyed when encountering each other having genders in their off time (at this point neither recognizes the other or knows their gender). Cause like, I've had that experience SO many times where someone got under my skin, and then years later we run into each other after figuring some shit out and suddenly we're like irresistibly magnetized.

(Note: The term Lolita used here refers specifically to the style of fashion, and has no sexual connotations)

A lot of these manga are written in a very "That's Really a Guy!?!?!?!?!?" frame, but a surprising number even among the shitty ones don't seem to really ascribe much in the way of that like, meaning a whole lot. That's Really A Guy?? But she has effectively completely socially transitioned and is known, loved, and desired as a woman, I dunno, feels pretty trans to me, complete with the scrutiny, misgendering, and gags at her expense that I've known in my life. Being Really A Guy seems to lose very much meaning in that instance. Which is comforting to me as someone who works a public facing role and constantly gets gendered and perceived in weird ways that don't match who I am.

Are these intended to be read so charitably? I don't know, and I also don't really care. That hasn't stopped us from reading transness in Lain or Evangelion, or reading Dungeon Meshi as a lesbian love story has it?

[vikeera]

I was planning to publish such a post a while ago, but a few events finally pushed me to write it. I'm not particularly active on tumblr, especially in the hellaverse tk community - it's just not my cup of tea anymore. As much as I appreciate all the attention and positive feedback on my art, it no longer brings me the joy it did in the beginning. I'm not interested in being a part of this fandom right now, which is the main reason I've been so infrequent in recent weeks and even months.

(I'm not sure how many people actually take this into account, but I've gotten a few questions about where my drawings and content went)

I'm thinking about deleting most or all of my artwork, the things I used to draw just make me uncomfortable now and I don't really want to remember them as a public thing - you could say I've simply outgrown it. I may occasionally respond to private messages, but don't expect any new posts in the near future, because that's just not going to happen.

As many interactions as I had with wonderful and sweet people here, I have to say that I was probably not the only one who felt a sense of distaste when seeing the statements and comments of some users whose names I won't even mention for several reasons - I truly hope that other people will avoid interacting with you, for a group of adults you are really closed-minded, which isn't even particularly surprising, still disappointing tho. For sure one of the reasons why people harass anyone who is involved in any type of tk content. Your behavior is just plain nasty, it doesn't take much to sum it up.

Anyway, I would like to thank the people who actually made this community fun to be involved in. I enjoyed creating drawings, headcanons or stories based on your ideas <3 Again, thank you for all the kind words about my artwork - I really appreciate it! I'm sorry to say that but, as you can tell, I'm no longer able to create works based on your requests. I'm a bit busy with things outside of the internet, especially since I'm starting college soon - that's why I may think about opening commissions as a more ''private creator''. If anyone is interested, just contact me here or on discord - the same username as here :)

I'm not sure what else I should say, this post is pretty rushed and I don't think I have much to add considering my account has been dead for quite a while. Thank you all for the nice time and take care of yourself!!

[laterkatersays]

Ashley Johnson is ruining my life (but I still love her to the moon and back)

Sometimes it feels like being a callowmoore shipper this campaign has been an exercise in frustration.

Not only are we fighting against a dedicated section of people who never got over the shard incident and still believe Ashton hasn't apologised enough (four times in one conversation was not enough, apparently) or done enough to be forgiven (despite the work they put in to open up to the party, make commitments to be better and actually follow though).

Then there are those who vocally insist that callowmoore is being forced and that Fearne has better chemistry with Chetney or Imogen or Teven or Braius. I honestly don't care when someone ships Fearne and Ashton with other people (and while I am not, a lot of callowmoores are multishippers, or want Ashton and Fearne to be polyamorous). The only time I mind is when someone starts bad mouthing callowmoore because they weren't paying attention to the way they've been flirting with each other since episode 1 (then I care long enough to roll my eyes and find the block button).

But to get back to my thesis statement, despite the fact that I adore Ashley Johnson in a way that one can (entirely platonically) adore a stranger that you will never meet, she has consistently driven me up the wall this entire campaign with her insistence that she can't share what Fearne is thinking and feeling without exploring it at the table first.

Don't get me wrong, it's an approach I admire. I would not be capable of it in that situation. I would be much more of a Liam, admitting to having romantic feelings in a 4 Sided Dive a good while before it was revealed at the table. Even Taliesin is sharing Ashton's feelings about Fearne now, I suspect because some of those feelings are easier for Ashton (which I plan to explore in another post because fuck it, let's ramble on the internet while the world falls apart).

Everything we've ever gotten from Ashley has been eked out in miniscule portions. We had one initial (and, I suspect, accidental) confession during a 4SD that Fearne might have deeper feelings for someone (back in October 2023, a month before the shard incident). And then ever since we've been living off crumbs.

I suspect that Ashley even asked before the final 4SD that the rest of the cast not bring up Fearne and Ashton (which is why we had a whole conversation around Caleb's tower without actually addressing why the tower configuration specifically caused issues that episode, namely that Fearne and Ashton had trouble finding somewhere private to fuck) because Liam made that little joke, almost underneath the rest of the conversation, "Enough about your callowmoore," as if it was in reference to a prior discussion.

I've been shipping these characters for two and a half years (July 2022, episode 28, Fearne fell in the hole, Ashton tried to pickpocket her while helping her out again, and I suddenly realised pickpocketing was flirting for people who were bad at feelings), and don't get me wrong, while there were some hard times, the payoff of watching these two emotionally stunted people find their way to each other has been brilliant. There is a unique joy in picking a ship before anyone else is paying attention and then being right (and hopefully getting to see them have a somewhat happy ending if they don't all get murdered by Predathos/Ludinus/the Gods in the next episode).

So I'll wait for the resolution we get in game, when Ashley and Taliesin do their thing and work out how Ashton and Fearne fit together when the fate of the world isn't at stake. And I'm sure it will be brilliant, because those two have already captivated me with this small story, this bare beginning of a romance, told in fragments of moments, within the hundreds of hours of Campaign 3. I think about callowmoore every day, when I'm supposed to working, or cleaning my house, or sleeping. So much so that I've somehow written 14 callowmoore fanfics, and I'm currently working on 4 more (2 of which are 40k+ words each).

But fuck me, if they don't dive into it, really dive into it, in the campaign wrap up, if Ashley Johnson doesn't finally reveal Fearne's thoughts and feelings, and the changing pattern of them across their friendship turned romance, I am going to... Well probably be really fucking sad and then write a bunch more fanfic tbh.