#totally not projecting because I kin him or anything...

[orionthenightfury]

I'm sorry but you can NOT convince me that this guy fucks. LOOK AT HIM. He is an anti-social introvert with social anxiety who only seems to like one speficific person.

I love Poe, but he is a virgin loser and would probably stay that way his whole life if not for Ranpo.

[queers-gambit]

Sweetest Devotion

[ part two ] [ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ] [ series masterlist ]

prompt: exhausted by the war efforts, your husband does what he can to protect you. but maybe in the end, it'll be you who saves him.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.3k+

note: two parts because total word count was at 17k. also, this is the final, people!!

warnings: major book spoilers. cursing, some angst, some comfort, author projects a little, major alternate timeline ending. ❗️SPOILERS

The storm had followed Aemond home to wreck havoc over King's Landing, flooding the streets and homes in Flea Bottom and low bearing homes.

You weren't sure how long you sat in silence together, but your heart was weeping, and you had no earnest idea on how to move forward from this moment. Your baby brother, the sweet Prince Lucerys, had met his end from your husband's ruthless pursuit of revenge.

Though it was his dragon that did the slaying, he is still Vhagar's rider and wanted revenge; though he would've settled for an eye, the dragon did not understand.

Aemond was silent beside you, the storm heard from the Dragon Caves as water gently leaked through cracks in the foundation. You thought the weather matched your mood and did little to quell the raging tempest that built in your chest and head; if anything, it spurred your anger onward. Tears leaked from your eyes with no sign of stopping; legs remaining bent to keep your arms tight around them. You also could not meet his gaze, nor look upon his face without picturing your baby brother screaming in terror.

You sniffled several times as you couldn't do much else but cry, but then, you made a swift decision. Jumping to your feet, you muttered, "I must go."

"Wait," Aemond stood after you, following you to your saddled dragon. Kasta raised her head and narrowed her eyes in threat, growling when Aemond reached for you. "Sweet girl, please, just hang on a second - "

"No," you sneered, wheeling around on him - meeting his eye at last. "You did this. You killed my brother, and what I need right now, is fucking space."

"How do I know you're not leaving for good? Fleeing to tell your mother the news?" He asked hopelessly. "Please, my love, understand that I cannot let you leave me. I cannot bare it."

"You cannot keep me here," you whispered in return. "You said you'd smuggle me out of the city if I wanted. Well, this is what I want - to fly with Kasta, and to be rid of your presence for now."

Tears filled his violet eye, "Please tell me you will return?"

"What if I don't?" You sneered. "Will you get on Vhagar and follow me, too? Hunt me down in the skies, maybe? Let your dragon eat Kasta and I for her main course?"

The emerald green dragon positioned above you glowered, and bore her teeth as if to dare your husband to do anything.

"You know I'd never hurt you," he whispered, but reached for your arms. "I need you to step away with me, please. We need a word."

"A word? A word? You need a word with me? Where was that courtesy for my brother? A boy of only ten and four!? Hey!?"

But you silenced yourself when Vhagar lifted her head from her alcove and swung it to watch the three of you - making Kasta go on the defense. "Kasta," you demanded in High Valyrian, "enough. Do not engage."

Your dragon growled still, standing rigidly above you as Aemond's hands tightened over your upper arms. "Listen to me," he begged still, making your glare turn back to his lone eye, "and believe me, please, none of this was my intention."

"You've made that clear. Yet what I can understand, is that you antagonized a child and your dragon does not understand limits nor bounds. She does not understand you only wanted to torment and scare the boy, and when his dragon reacted in an effort to protect his rider, you lost control."

"Why is his dragon understood and mine crucified?"

You scoffed, "Truly? What business did a 10-year-old child have claiming some 180-year-old dragon!?"

"Now that is on trial!?"

"Aemond, what are you expecting here?" You snapped, ignoring the way your skin seared under his touch. "You and your fucking dragon killed my brother, end of story, end of sentence, no other room for judgement. This is your sin to bear, not mine, though I am now burdened with knowing my husband claimed the innocent life of my brother! How could you?" You whispered, stepping closer as your voice lowered but still rang clearer than the storm raging outside. Both hands tightened over his biceps, begging, "How could you do this? To me? To us? To my Mother? If it was an eye you wanted, you can have mine - both if it would satisfy you."

His head shook, "No. No, I would not - do not twist this on me."

"I am assuring you that there were any other way to solve this, and should you remember correctly, we married so that your pride might be soothed. As payment for my brother's actions, my hand was offered, and your father accepted that proposal. Pray tell me how that was not enough? After all this time?" Your arms laid over his to grab the muscle above his elbow; his grip tightening on your waist. "Why did you do it? Why did you push for this? It is by your selfishness that my brother isn't even allowed to be buried!"

"Say the word and we will go find him now," Aemond shook his head.

You scoffed, then nodded solemnly. "Truly?"

"I would do anything to right this terrible wrong. If it meant you stayed, if it meant I kept you, I would do anything."

You nodded again and tried to smile, but your tears made it difficult. Before Aemond could blink, your hands reached for his belt and yanked the leather free; grabbing his long-sword in hand and shoving the weapon into his chest - which forced him back two steps.

"Gut your dragon," you whispered into the eery silence.

"What?"

"Gut Vhagar and pull my brother's body free before the acids have time to dissolve him further," you sneered, pressing the sword harder.

"My love," he begged softly.

"No? Is that refusal?" You goaded.

"You know I cannot."

"Then there is nothing more I want from you than to be free to take my dragon into the skies. I cannot look at your face longer, knowing what I know now. I need time to think."

His hand softly folded over yours, pausing a moment to ask, "Is there any way you could forgive me?"

"I need to first find a way to fully stomach what you've done, then we might ponder if I can forgive you. I would not hold my breath if I were you, though."

His hand tightened over yours, nodding as he repeated to you your words from earlier that day in High Valyrian, "I will wait for you forever, if I must. But do not make me... Please."

You snorted through your nose, shaking your head, "Do not do that. Do not try to romance me now. You cannot possibly have love for me if your dragon ate my fucking brother."

You pulled away from him in full to make for Kasta again. Sword laid forgotten in the sand as he called after you, "Just be careful, my love, please. There's a storm tonight."

"Yes, I've ears to hear with, thank you!" You snapped over your shoulder. "I will be fine."

You wanted to tell him you'd return, but in truth, you were unsure if you were able to. You wanted to go back before today, before the love of your life had killed and eaten your little brother. Well, his dragon did the eating, and while that's not Aemond, and beasties are allowed to be wild from their masters, you were disgusted looking at him.

Kasta purred when you got to her side and easily climbed on top of the saddle, sparring Aemond only a single look before encouraging your dragon from the Caves under the Dragon Pit.

Aemond had to flatten himself against the Cave wall as Kasta surged past him - bursting into the frigid air, and spreading her wings to beat once, twice, three times, and rise into the air.

You soared higher and higher; darkness swallowing you as it had your brother, letting the storm encompass you whole. When Kasta was level, your hands let go of the saddle to sit back and choke on your sobs, arms going lax as your strength to hold yourself together gave way. And through the storm, what better way to release your rage?

You let your tears mix with the water splattering on your face. For the thunder to drown your anguished screams. For the lightning to flash away the images you unintentionally conjured when you thought of your husband and brother.

You let the vapid, sideways rain pound over you. For the wind to howl and create a legion of goose flesh to form over your shivering form; though you did not feel it. For the storm to become one with you.

Your pain was tangible. Your anguish known.

You flew for miles, unsure where you were heading because the storm demanded the forefront of your attention - but you weren't willing to give it. Kasta chose to fly aimlessly as she just wanted to stretch out, and for a moment, you considered just flying across the Narrow Sea. Head for Essos, where you would escape this petty stupidity. Where you would not have to choose between your beloved mother and adoring husband.

Between Green and Black.

Between rightful succession, and well... Tradition. You hated the thoughts when they registered in your head, but the truth of the matter is that after centuries of tradition as naming first-born males the heir, you were not stupid and understood your shit-stain-brother-by-law, Aegon, held a 'legitimate' claim now.

You were desperately confused, you had no honest idea what to do, and the further you flew in the storm, the more your exhaustion rose. As your dragon's pale green wings cut through the air and she took charge of your flight, you weighed the pro's and con's of each action.

If you stayed, you got Aemond - and that was enough of a pro on its own.

If you left, you'd be able to salvage whatever time you have with your brothers, Jace and Joffrey. Plus your step-sisters, Rhaena and Baela, along with half-siblings, Viserys II and Aegon III.

If you stayed, your dragon would be on the frontlines only due to her sheer size... And that sounded more like a con.

But! But! But! If you left, you knew the message you bore - that was sure to reach your mother's ears with or without you - would be reason enough for Rhaenyra to wage war. If you returned to your mother, you'd be thrown into her war, and with Kasta, who still grew in size and ferocity, who was to say you wouldn't be used on the frontlines there, too?

If you stayed, Aemond would always protect you. Not that you needed it but it was a comfort to know you'd not be alone.

You'd hopefully get to see your siblings all marry, too, if you went home.

Your child would know its father if you stayed.

You screamed into the night again.

Sobs ransacked your lungs, demanding oxygen be sucked in with a shuddering, stuttering inhale. You were restless and distraught, and even when time passed, the storm did not; nor did your heartbreak. But Kasta understood your pain, letting you sob into her hide as she flew you higher, higher, higher... Before breaking free of the storm to give you a view of the just rising sun.

You breathed in shock as you sat up off her shoulders. With your arms keeping you upright, you gazed with swollen red eyes to the beautiful sight before you; relishing in the swirls of colors that only brightened with each flap of Kasta's wings.

She hovered a moment to let you gaze at the clouds and rising sunlight, patting her shoulder as you praised in High Valyrian, "Good girl, my sweet Emerald. Good girl - thank you. Thank you," you whispered, hearing her purr as she beat her wings to keep her body suspended.

You took a sobering breath and sat up tall. With nobody around, you were left with only Kasta to speak to, and maybe, that'd be your saving grace in time. You spoke, "It is more than myself I need to consider. You are my priority," you smiled, stroking her neck, "but I also now have a baby growing in my womb, and I have to take them into consideration, too. Where we go, I have to think of you two the most - because I cannot let you suffer for human selfishness."

She gave a loud purr.

"Yet we have two options, my girl. We stay in King's Landing and we would fight with Aemond, only. We are loyal to him, not his usurping weasel of a brother."

She snorted, almost nodding her head. You saw her lips flutter and knew she bore her teeth in distrust of Aegon.

"If we return to Dragonstone, we are subservient to our Queen, my Mother, the rightful ruler and heir to the Iron Throne. Surely, with Daemon's influence, we would be expected to fight."

Saying it aloud again made you slump onto her shoulders, groaning, "Oh, Kasta, what the hell are we doing? We should just take our chances in Essos."

She huffed.

"No? Maybe Pentos?"

She growled.

"Then where should we go, pet? Where? Where you are safe and so is my baby?"

Kasta whined lightly, unsure of your decision either.

"I care little for my own safety, but you, my precious girl, are entirely dear to me and I will not risk you in open war. I could not ask that of you, you are not at fault for the deceit my people show. But we have to chose which side we are to take, love. Where I took vowels to be loyal to Aemond, we know Rhaenyra is right and true, but with Luke's death, she... She cannot be thinking levelly."

Kasta lowly whined in agreement, turning in a circle to keep her blood pumping before coming to another halt. You had a view to a sea of sun-soaked clouds, finding rolling hills of different colors; all painted on fluffy canvases.

"She'll need me now more than ever," you whispered. "She cannot do this alone, and... And the Greens have Vhagar. The Blacks have Meleys. Yet if I take a position, I will still have to fight the ones I love, the dragons you grew with."

But Kasta gave a small snarl.

"You know I mean Aemond," you chuckled lowly. "He's the best trained with a sword and rides the largest dragon... He'd be sent off to battle, and to meet him, I'd wager Daemon would not hesitate to send us with Melyes and Rhaenys. What would hurt more, Kasta? Fighting my step father and mother's cousin? Or fighting the man I was sworn to love and be loyal to before the Gods? Who sires my children? But... The man has killed my brother and I fear I'd be unable to forgive him. What do I do, Kasta?"

She whined again.

"I made vows to him," you whispered brokenly. "I do not think I can leave... Mother would surely use us to fight, but at least Aemond would protest Aegon's command, try to keep us safe..." Your tears streamed down your cheeks, making you nod, "All right, yeah, come now, my love, we need to go."

Kasta anticipated this and turned to dive back into the storm; your eyes closing from the whipping wind stinging your eyes as Kasta dove at an angle straight down. You held on tightly and trusted her, and when she leveled, you cracked your eyes open to see your dragon flapping her wings straight for the distant Red Keep.

"Mumma's sneaky girl, aren't you?" You chuckled at her, patting her neck with an affection hand. She gave a roar of announcement as she swiftly circled the Dragon Pit and descended; landing with a trembling thud before she was hurrying under cover from the still-raging storm. You held on until she came to a halt in the Caves; pausing to let you slide off your saddle. "Good girl," you praised, letting her forehead caress the scales of her cheek. "Good girl, thank you. Always my good girl, yes," she gave a small snort of contentment, almost leaning into you.

"Thank you for returning my wife safely, Kasta," Another voice purred in smooth High Valyrian, and you sighed when you recognized it instantly. It was a voice you longed to hear, but not yet - not so soon. You did not think he'd still be here at this hour.

"I've only just returned, Aemond, are you truly that dull or does the concept of time and space just not register in your head?" You leered to Aemond from over your shoulder.

"I needed to see you were safe with my own eye," he sighed, watching your dragon patter (read: took thundering steps) into her alcove for rest; leaving the two of you as alone as you could be.

"You see me now," you snipped. "Now leave me be."

"We should talk - "

"The only thing I've left to say is that I'm done," you nodded. "I'm not leaving you, don't bother even trying to lock up Kasta - she's been biting lately. But I can't stay with you anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"That I still need time and space to think about this, it's not a decision I can come to in a single evening," you sighed. "Look, I'll move out - "

"No, wait," Aemond stepped towards you but you held a hand.

"It's for the best," you backed off a step. "I can't live in our room anymore, not when you are everywhere. I'll suffocate."

"I'll move out."

"Do you not listen?" You groaned lightly. "You're all I see in that room, and I need time apart. I understand what happened with Vhagar, I do - and while I'm sorry you feel guilt over losing control, I still need you to have accountability for the actions taken tonight. You've started a war - both in life with my mother, and in my heart with my head."

Your words planted his feet as his stomach plunged; letting you slip past him only just - your ears catching his whisper, "Will you ever forgive me?"

You paused but did not look at him. "Time will tell," you alluded, unsure of what to tell him in truth. You left after that, the storm thick and making you stick to back allies of King's Landing to reach the Red Keep again. Seemingly out of respect, Aemond did not follow, and from your shared quarters, you made a beeline for the one thing you wanted. The rest of the room and all contents shared some kind of memory attached to your husband.

You only took an ornate jewelry box your mother had gifted you years ago and quickly fled the room in favor of locating Amira. From there, she helped you locate a new room, and together, you shoveled clothes into trucks, and with another maid, Clara, carried two full trunks between you three.

You lead, holding one handle, Amira in the middle, both hands holding an end of a trunk, and Clara at the rear; a single rucksack strung around yours and Clara's shoulders. You ignored the bewildered looks of others to quickly head for your new room, somewhere far from Aemond to avoid accidentally running into him.

Your two maidens helped you unload your trunks with two jugs of wine - the night long, and given your status, you could 'relieve' the two women of their daily chores. So, they spent the night with you, and you didn't dare open your mouth about what happened.

You told them you and Aemond had a terrible fight and you needed space to think. They understood and while you saw the way Clara wanted to push, Amira was sending her stern looks that silenced the younger girl. They did not linger after the sun broke the horizon, but Amira did return to bring you something for breakfast.

You didn't realize this would become your new normal.

Weeks upon weeks went by with Aemond keeping his distance and it drove you up the bloody wall. On one hand, you were frustrated because you were alone, but also angry, because he killed your brother. You craved his affection, his touch, but still felt repulsed by the sight of him. He liked to send you flowers; filling your room with sickly sweetness that made your anger almost solidify, but the reminder of the act of kindness went farther than you were willing to admit; and though you'd not admit it, each little card that came with the flowers were saved in a small, carved wooden box.

On the loneliest nights, you curled up in bed, caressed your still-growing bump, and reread his declarations of love and loyalty. His words that read how much he missed you, and prayed for you daily.

In order to maintain appearances to both his family and the public, you and Aemond attended official royal events together. However, the silence between you and Aemond echoed across any room; earning the attention of his family.

They were well aware by now of Luke's demise and could only assume you knew, as well; but nobody ever confronted you about it after Aemond threatened physical harm to any who dared. When Aegon threw Aemond a feast to celebrate his 'accomplishment', not even the arrogant boy-King questioned your notable absence. Especially after teasing he'd go collect you himself - and earned Aemond's venomous glare that rooted him in spot.

For weeks, you slept alone, mostly ate alone, couldn't bare to sit with Helaena and her children anymore. You were heartbroken and feeling sick from stress, isolating yourself in the hope of figuring out your emotions and next steps forward.

You tried to rationalize in your head that in times of war, casualties were inevitable; but you were frustrated because it was the first punch, and never knew where to place your emotions. Granted, you could've considered Aegon's coronation provocation towards war but your mother was trying to be calculated in her movements; almost now forced into the fray following the death of Lucerys.

Despite this understanding, nothing in your mind cleared.

Until enough was enough when the next storm struck the city. You flinched awake and felt your chest tighten with memories of your baby brother as the storm had tapped into your subconscious to make you dream of him. It felt more like a haunting now.

You were left alone to pace the cold, stone floors, the hearth stoked to life, flowers slowly drying from a vase on the spare table, but the thunder made you tremble and rub your palms together. Your mind did not stop, nor did the frantic, vapid beat of your heart; anxiety flaring with each flash of lightning.

You flinched when there was a pounding at your door. Not a knock, but four beats of a fist in rapid succession that nearly made the whole door shake off its hinges.

Gulping any nerves, you reached for the handle and opened it a crack; curious as to who would call upon you at this late hour. But what you saw surprised you, making you blink a few times. "You're soaked," You whispered, leaning on the door you held, taking note of the rain water dripping off Aemond's form.

"There were matters I had to attend to, so, I was outside for a time," he explained with a nervous nod. "I was just returning, and only wanted to come by and check on you..."

"Why?"

He shrugged some, "The storm, and because I love you. I didn't want you feeling so alone. I know you grow weary."

You nodded as another crack of thunder rumbled, making you ask softly, "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, thank you," he whispered with a curt nod, watching you step away to push the door open and grant him passage into the smaller room. When he stepped over the threshold, you gulped nervously and shut the door securely. "You rearranged," he noted with a small chuckle. "Like you did in our room."

"I think I am nesting," you smiled, smoothing a hand around your swollen belly. "Times I am stressed, I can curl up in bed with a book."

He nodded, "Good."

The bookshelf was in a new place than the first, last, and only time he's seen your new room, and the bed was pushed into a corner where you had piled a mountain of pillows to create a literal nest. You watched him for a moment, offering, "Do you want to change? You might catch a cold in that."

He nodded, "Uh, yeah, yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you, sweet girl, but I have clothes in, uh, our room..."

You smiled softly and went to the wardrobe to find him something new, warm, and suitable to change into. "I kept some of your clothes, they're comfortable to sleep in," you explained, slightly defending yourself as you didn't like feeling so vulnerable under his luminescent gaze. "What were your errands?" You wondered gently.

He sighed, "I had to visit the Storm Lands again, Aegon had a new message for Lord Borros."

"How fairs your intended?"

He laughed, "Oh, my beautiful girl, you still think that's happening?"

"Is it, Aemond?"

"Not in the slightest," he sighed, nodding with assurance when your eyes met his with skepticism. "I told Aegon now wasn't the time for strife between my wife and I, and I wasn't available to do his bidding nor make his alliances."

You considered his words, then asking, "Is there news?"

Aemond cleared his throat, nodding as you presented the clothing and sat it on the bed. Then, your hands took hold of his jerkin and started to undo the latches and laces - as if no time had passed. He sighed, "Your step-father claimed Harrenhal and the Lady Arryn and Lords Manderly, Sunderland, and Stark, maybe another, have declared for your mother's side."

You nodded, peeling the wet leather from his form. "And your news to Storm's End?"

"To break the engagement in person, but Borros did not seem too disheartened."

"You think he would abandon the cause?"

"No," he sighed. "He's smarter than that."

"Uneducated, though," you mused gently, peeling his tunic free from his damp chest. "Hang on," you paused, moving for the heath to pull off a towel from a drying rack. When you returned, you asked, "And how are you feeling now?"

"Exhausted," he whispered. "But I was worried about you, Princess, when I came home and saw the storm was here, too."

You nodded, "You do not need worry - "

"Of course I do," he snarled gently, "you are most precious to me, my love," he frowned as his tone tapered off, shaking his head. "'S been killing me trying to give you space."

"Thank you for it," you nodded, sweeping over his skin to dry it before handing him the thin, white tunic. "But um..." You paused with nervousness, nudging his booted foot with your bare one. "Take those off."

"What were you truly going to say?"

You rolled your eyes some, silently cursing him for knowing you so bloody well. "That I do not wish to be alone tonight... Maybe you'd like to stay?"

"You'd want me?"

"Of course," you nodded, gently unlacing his trousers and stepping away to let him change completely into drier pants. "I told you I didn't want to be alone."

"You've been so angry."

"With reason."

"I know," he nodded, eye tinging red from restrained emotion. "I'm so sorry - "

"For what this time?"

"All of it," he reached for you, changed finally. "But I swore you wouldn't be alone, and here, I just left you."

"I wanted to be alone," you reminded softly.

"Did not mean you should have been," he whispered, letting his forehead meet yours. He let out a sigh of relief, "Let me fix us."

"I think time apart has sickened my stomach... And your child misses the sound of your voice," you admitted. "I don't want to be without you anymore, but your brother oversteps himself."

"I know - "

"He threw you a feast for killing my brother," you reminded, stepping away. "He mocks my pain."

"I will have a word with him - and with everyone. You will not be caught between this war, you are my wife, and I will protect you against them all."

"I am only loyal to you," you sighed. "So, whatever you ask of me, I will do, but only that. I am not your brother's subject - "

"Hey," he quipped, slipping his hand over your mouth and giving a suspicious glance around the room. "I hear you, pet, I do, trust me, but the walls have ears now. Please..."

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him before opening your mouth and boldly licking his palm. He tasted like leather, and just like you wanted, he recoiled in shock from the feel of your tongue. "Wash your hands, husband," you chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Because you don't know where you've been, wife?" He teased, pulling a soft mug at his soiled hand before stepping away from you to head for the wash basin.

"I haven't really left this room, Aemond," you sighed.

"I know," he admitted, washing his hands and forearms, "I was worried about you isolating yourself but Amira kept saying you needed space to think."

"She's a good friend," you smiled gently, watching him. "Can we be done with this?"

He offered a look of shock, "What? With what, love?"

You sighed, quelling his worry by responding, "This fight? The distance between us? I don't... I don't want space anymore. I just want you, Aemond, I want my husband back."

His shoulders gently slumped with relief as he dried his hands. "Yes, good, we're done, it's at an end, my love. You have me, you always have - and always will."

"I'm still working on forgiving you but I think, all things considered, we can start... Moving on..."

He nodded, "Many are lost in war, but I am so sorry he was the first. And that it was by my hand."

"Thank you for saying that," you nodded at him, finding his accountability refreshing. "Come to bed, please?"

"In your nest?" He chuckled, letting your hand reach for his and lead him to the mattress.

"Yes, it's cozy," you defended. "And you made me sleep alone, so, I made do with what I had."

"Fight's over, love, that's all done now," he promised with a sigh, settling into your nest and readjusting a few times. "Hmm," he considered, glancing around the mountain of silks and fluff. "I don't think I hate it completely."

"Shhh," you hushed as you moved to curl up at his side. The hearth had died a bit in flame, but the warmth was enough that you only needed a thin sheet for comfort. You smiled when his hand laid to your belly, rubbing gently as if in fascination.

"Missed you so much, sweet girl," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You sighed against him, promising you missed him, too; then deflating into his chest as sleep tugged at your form. You still flinched into his embrace on a few particular hard claps of thunder rattling the walls and windows, but Aemond was there to soothe you back into gentle submission.

Yet, by morning, there was nothing but chaos.

"MY PRINCE!" Someone banged at the door, making you and your husband flinch awake. "PRINCESS!"

"The hell?" Aemond muttered through a haze of sleep, hand tightening on your waist.

"MY PRINCE! PLEASE! PRINCESS! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, PLEASE! MY LADY! LORD! LORD, PLEASE!"

"That's Mira," you realized, sitting up in shock. "Come in, come in!"

"Love," Aemond reprimanded, yanking the bedsheet over his bare hips after feigning being too hot in the night to spend it in your cunt with you still in your singlet.

The door barged open and Amira entered with a pant, "You both need to come quick!"

"What's happened? Are we under attack?" You worried.

"No, no, well, I-I don't - I don't know anymore," she panted, using her hands to reiterate her words. "Something has happened - "

"Tell us plainly," Aemond demanded.

"The Queen - y-your mother, s-s-someone broke in a-and bound her," Amira told you both with a tremble; making you grab Aemond's hand as if it would quell his growing temper. "Th-They killed the hand maiden and your sister arrived with all three of her children, like they do every night - t-to say goodnight to their grandmother."

"No," you whispered.

"The door was barred," Amira's tears started, "an-and the Queen was made to choose which of her sons would die."

"For the love of the Gods," Aemond cursed, looking down as if to prepare himself.

Amira gulped.

"Tell us," you encouraged.

"S-She named Maelor... But they killed Jaehaerys instead." You felt the tears swell. "They took his head, and fled the Keep," she whispered.

"What?" You gasped.

"But, wait, wait," she saw both your temper and Aemond's flare when his head lifted to burn her with his glare. The missing eyepatch allowed his sapphire to leave her unnerved. "One of the assassins was caught. He's been brought to the dungeons."

"The dungeons?" Aemond nodded.

"Yes, my Prince. Your brother is being informed and anticipated he'll call for you," she explained. "Your mother is being seen to, she is well-enough, and the Lady Helaena was not harmed... But she is beside herself with grief."

"Rightfully," you nodded, watching Amira sniffle.

"I'll go, but perhaps, Lady, you should remain... You do not need to bear witness to the King's justice," she spoke softly.

"I will go with my husband, thank you, Amira," you nodded at her, letting her turn for the door in haste. "Aemond?" You turned to him, reaching for his cheek to direct his attention to you. "Hey, hey, stay in the present with me; take me through your thoughts..."

He shook his head, leaning in to sigh when his head rested in the crook of your neck. "I do not even know," he admitted. "What am I supposed to do right now? What am I to think? What - What if they came for us? Came for you?" His hand secured to your belly. "This is retribution for Lucerys, this is my fault - my doing. They could've come for you, my love - "

"They did not because they know I am under your protection, my sweet love," you muttered, caressing the back of his head. "Nobody would be so foolish."

"Then perhaps I need to keep you close," he frowned, lifting his gaze. "So that I can protect you at all times." You nodded, letting his hand caress your belly in soothing circles. "I-I am ashamed to admit I cannot stop thinking about it. If they came for you."

"Aemond," your hand reached for his jaw; fingers fitting between his ear to thread slightly into his hair. "Do not burden yourself with the unknown, please. The hypothetical, it-it will not serve us now. When we're alone, yes, my love, please, grieve and be upset and tell me what thoughts plague your mind. But we need to hit pause because there's business to attend right now."

He sniffled and nodded some. "You're right. Come with me, please."

You agreed, and together, got from the bed. After changing from your singlet, you both hustled through the castle to make for the dungeons - your husband armed with his long sword and two different daggers. Your hand was tight in his, trying to help keep him level headed as you met Aegon and witnessed the murderer, 'Blood', be tortured for answers.

He admitted to a partner, a rat-catcher named Cheese, and that he was on his way to collect payment for the Prince's death from your step-father, Daemon. Aemond's arm constricted around you when he heard, trying to prevent any residual anger be directed your way.

Yet, it never came.

Blood confessed to being told this ransom by some 'whore', nicknamed Misery - and you stilled at the familiar name. Only Aemond noted it, and he would question you later - where you'd admit to knowing the name of the White Worm because she was Daemon's paramour - before focusing on the interrogation.

The rest was a frenzy.

Over a two week period, Aegon hung every single rat-catcher in the city after being unsuccessful in locating this 'Cheese' character. In truth, they could not find your step-father's woman, either, but finding Cheese was much more important - since he fucking murdered the Prince. To be sure, all were executed and Aegon had their heads mounted on spikes around the Red Keep's fortress walls, and the Hand, Otto, had cats shipped into the Keep to take over the catcher's old job.

You and Aemond sought comfort in each other's arms the night you found out the truth of his sister's state. She had locked herself away and threw herself into a deep depression, unable to care for her children, and absolutely refusing to care for Maelor - after she named him to die. In response, Aegon had taken up residence in another room and gave his mother, Alicent, care of the baby after deeming his sister-wife unfit.

It made the both of you outrageously grateful for one another and all feelings of hardship truly evaporated. He held you close, letting his fingers run over your flesh; relishing in the warm feel of your curves. He liked kissing your forehead, holding your baby bump, letting calloused fingertips trace the contours of your face.

Yet the worst was yet to come.

The blows kept coming.

Aegon had seemingly lost the support of the mainland, the Riverlands, and left him in a drunken despair following the murder of his son. He grew tired of waiting and denounced his grandsire, Otto Hightower, as Hand before anointing Ser Criston Cole.

You and Aemond had shared looks of mistrust when the ceremony occurred to announce the change of position - both feeling as if Aemond was being cheated out of a natural position.

Yet, he did not voice anything and did as he was bid.

He did not let you on the frontlines despite his brother's nagging and pushing for such. Aemond worried for the babe in your womb and refused his brother every time - telling him to condemn both you and he as a traitor for it, then.

Aegon never followed through and actually left you be. Yet, as if in retaliation, he sent Aemond on constant errands and missions.

One day, when your husband returned victorious from his latest mission with his brother, who you could not see, because Ameond was rushing for you waiting at the gates of the Keep, and seized hold of your hips. "Come with me," he ushered, trying to lead you away.

"What's wrong?" You worried, hearing the crowds gather in the city streets. "Aemond? 'S goin' on, love?"

He sighed, and then you saw it over his shoulder. "Oh, Gods, no, no, no, no, no," you whispered, a large wagon carrying the head of the Red Queen, Meleys, who was your Grandmother's dragon. "What happened?" You rounded on Aemond. "Tell me what happened!"

"It was a fair fight," he assured softly, avoiding your gaze. "But..."

"Please, just tell me," you whispered, one hand to your lower belly as if to support the babe growing in your womb.

"Meleys perished and her head was brought back to encourage the commonfolk. Sunfyre was severely wounded and had to be left behind in Rook's Rest, and Aegon is gravely wounded, he'll be seen by the Maester's, and..."

"Please."

"Your Grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, did not survive. Or, so we think. There was a body too charred to identify found with the Red Queen."

"Gods," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist to rest on his chest. You whispered sadly, "It just follows us now, doesn't it? Everywhere we look..."

"What does?"

"Death."

He frowned and leaned down to kiss your head, giving a tight squeeze. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to you.

But the blows didn't stop.

Rumor reached the Keep of your brother, Prince Jacerys, collecting Targaryen bastards - offering a knighthood to those who could conquer any of the six, riderless dragons left on Dragonstone. Apparently, many tired, many failed, and only four were conquered - including King Jaehaerys' dragon, Vermithor.

The Greens were vastly outmatched.

You grew nervous and Aemond often spent his nights mindlessly tracing up and down your spine to assure you he was still there. He was still alive. He was still with you.

The blows kept coming.

Your two half-brothers, Viserys II and Aegon the Younger, were being transferred across the sea when the Green's navy found them. No ships were left untouched and rumor had it, only Aegon III survived - clinging to the neck of his injured dragon. However, there was no way of confirming if he ever washed ashore or not, so, the idea of him being lost to the sea sank your stomach to new depths.

Over the Gullet of Blackwater Bay, your brother, Jace, had apparently flown too close to the water's surface when he descended to avenge his half-brothers. He leapt from Vermax' back as the dragon crashed and died in the accident, leaving the Green's navy defenses to take aim and shoot the Prince to the death.

He was never pulled from the waters. Again, another brother with no body to mourn or burn.

However, the men Otto recruited from the Stepstones made landfall and sacked Spicetown before laying siege to High Tide. Apparently, they burnt the whole of it, and all of your Grandfather, Corlys', treasures were lost. In addition, a third of his fleet was set ablaze - and you felt guilt for the small relief you felt.

Maybe the end of the war was soon upon you.

By a stroke of nature, you went into labor following news of your brother's demise. It was the smallest semblance of happiness the Greens could find, and they paced at your door; curious for the new addition to the family. Husbands weren't usually allowed in the birthing chambers but Aemond left no choice; holding your hand through it all and using a cloth to dab sweat from your forehead and brow. He paced with you, sat behind you when you needed to squat, did not let anyone touch you when you did not wish to be touched.

He was encouraging, soft, loving, and mostly, worried. The labors of birth was not for the weak of heart, and Aemond had to remind himself several times to be strong for you.

A full fucking day and a half in labor, and you and Aemond were then laid in bed holding a pair of twins. A boy, who looked just as his father does, who his mother named Olyver, and a little girl, who liked to wriggle around in her father's arms, who he named Brinna.

"You did so good, my love, so good," Aemond whispered from beside you, supporting your weight on his shoulder and weight of his newborn daughter in his arms. "Look at them. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Mhm," you assured softly.

His mother and brother visited to offer good tidings, leaving both of you surprised by Aegon's presence. Helaena never showed. But Otto did, offering you both congratulations.

Aemond was awe-struck, holding his children carefully; thanking you repeatedly for giving him the gift of fatherhood. They were gorgeous babes with stark white hair and bright purple eyes that slowly darkened with the passing weeks.

Aemond was obsessed. He liked their cribs at the base of your bed - in case they needed anything - and was always first to hop up to offer them care or comfort. Except when they were hungry, then he had to wake you, but he liked sitting behind you as you nursed the twins one at a time, on different breasts.

He couldn't stop showering you in compliments, truly in awe over what you both had created. He didn't like maids or midwives around the babies, often shooing them away in favor of either of you. Following the Blood and Cheese incident, he was overly protective and did not like your twins far from either of you. However, he was the first to call for aid when the long nights took a toll on you; leaving you to rest undisturbed while the babies slept in a separate room.

Any night your husband wasn't home, you were laid in bed with your twins with a wall of pillows around the edges. Aemond was named Protector of the Realm in his brother's absence - Aegon recovering from his severe broken bones and burns obtained at Rook's Rest. This only meant your husband was extremely busy as of late, but every night, no matter the time, he still came back to you.

You preferred knowing he was in meetings and strategy sessions rather than out on the frontlines with Vhagar - never allowing you to know of his safety. It was a gamble if he came home, which resulted in a passionate reunion, yes, but the anxiety you felt wasn't truly worth it. Now that he ruled in his brother's stead, you knew he'd come to bed eventually and started to settle down easier.

But then, when your children were under two, Aemond came to you with a proposition; late from a war strategy meeting, and slipping into bed behind you. He gave a tight squeeze to your frame, making you hum as you woke up fully from your sleepy daze.

"My love," you muttered, reaching up to caress the back of his neck as his lips pressed into your neck several times. You sighed in contentment, small smile on your lips.

"I need to ask you something important, sweet girl. Are you awake?"

"Mhm. What's wrong?" Then, you shot up to twist around and look at him with a crazed expression, "Is it the children!?"

"No, no," he soothed quickly, slowly coaxing you to lay down again. "C'mere, please," he sighed, slowly guiding you back into position. You tried to relax but his words made you suspicious; letting a hand lace with his that was resting on your stomach.

"What is it, love? Worrying me a bit," you sighed, feeling his breath fan over your neck and shoulder.

"Could you ride Kasta with us?" He sighed into your hair, being the big spoon.

"Where, my Prince?"

"To Harrenhal," he revealed quietly. "We mean to move on Daemon from the East and the Lannisters from the West, and in truth, I would hope he'd at least yield if he saw you. Or, more like, if he saw Kasta."

You nodded softly and turned in his arms so you could see his worried expression, reaching out to trace a fingertip over his face. You asked in a whisper, "You would spare him?"

"I have been the cause of enough of your grief, my love," he whispered, "I would try to undo some damage. Yes, I would take him alive, spare his life."

You sighed, "All right."

"We march at dawn after Cole and his men," he informed.

You sighed in agreement, "All right. Then, you're not fucking me, we're going to sleep if I'm to leave bed for long."

His grin was felt against your lips, and just as he planned, your resolve crumbled easily to let him flip you back around and slip inside you, but he still left time for you both to rest. What a gentleman. When you rose, both you and Aemond dressed for the excursion before kissing your children goodbye.

With your husband at your side, you both mounted your dragons solemnly before letting them take to the skies - the armies long-gone with Cole at the lead. They were easy to catch up with, and unknown to any of you, your step-father knew of the Green movement and flew Caraxes to King's Landing to meet your mother on Syrax.

None of you would know of the damage until it was too late.

After a 19-day march through mud and rain, that was met with only few battles from lesser Lords, you were surprised to find Harrenhal empty. Abandoned. There was only the weakened bodies of House Strong left, and all were taken prisoner. You eyed the castle wearily after Aemond had called you from the skies, feet crunching over charred dirt as you went.

"What's happened?" Aemond wondered gently, looking around with you in skepticism.

"He fled," you noted with suspicion, eyes meeting your husband's gaze as you slowly reached for his hand. "He wouldn't unless for something bigger, Aemond."

He nodded mutely as a grinning Cole approached you both, informing, "The whole place is abandoned. Word must've reached him of our numbers and he didn't want the fight. I imagine he's already back at Dragonstone."

You hummed, "Maybe, but it's not like Daemon to flee. We're talking about the same madman who took the Blood Stone Island singlehandedly - "

"Until he was overrun and your Grandsire rode to his aid," Cole cut off, sighing at you. "Daemon's past triumphs are of no use nor concern here. The truth is, he's fled the fortress and it's been reclaimed in the name of King Aegon."

"No, something's not right," you insisted, still glancing around as if to expect a message that would tell you where Daemon had gone. "He wouldn't just give up, not without the Queen's explicit instruction."

"Could his Queen have given another order?" Aemond wondered, and Cole had to physically restrain himself from snapping that Rhaenyra was the False Queen - and that Alicent and Helaena were the rightful leading Ladies of the Realm.

You paused to consider his question, muttering, "'S possible. But what was said? And when?" Your head shook, "No, something's not right. Can't you feel it?"

"They say this castle is haunted, Lady," Cole sighed.

"No, it goes beyond that - and fuck off, Cole, ghosts are real," you snipped, waving him off. "I don't think we should stay, I-I think we should return to the capital. Love?"

Before Aemond could answer, Cole did, "No, we need to hold the fort."

"With respect," you spat at Cole, "but this is not the easy win you think it is. How much would you wager there's been a spy?"

"Impossible - "

"Improbable," you corrected, "but very much possible."

This lead you three to make for one of the strategy rooms to argue, nobody truly knowing what the next course of action should be.

That was, until the late hours, when a bloodied and soot-covered messenger arrived. "Love," You gasped when the man burst into the room, grabbing onto Aemond in shock.

"Who are you?" Aemond demanded, hand to his longsword.

"I-I come - I come from the Keep, my Prince," the man panted. "I carry grave news."

"What's happened?" Cole demanded.

The message was simple: after they had all left, Rhaenyra and Daemon flew their dragons over the city and your Grandsire, Corlys, sailed into Blackwater Bay - seizing it. Any messenger was caught and arrested, anyone trying to send ravens, too. Yet, your messenger only managed to escape through the back tunnels under the Keep; but could not avoid the panic of the city.

"What of the King?" Aemond demanded.

Larys Strong had managed to smuggle Aegon, his daughter, Jaehaera, and Prince Maelor out of the city. He sent the children to different places, and did not say where Aegon was sent. You'd only learn later he was planted in Dragonstone.

"Where is Larys now?" Aemond muttered, being told the man simply disappeared and there was no further news of him.

"And the Queen?" Cole needed to know.

Alicent had been spared, but her father, Otto, your husband's grandsire, had been beheaded - and any remaining Greens surrendered to Rhaenyra. The city was sacked in less than a day.

"What of our children?" Aemond demanded with a tremor to his voice, his arm around you tightened with each passing second as you waited for an answer.

Allegedly, Alicent had been found holding your babies tightly to her chest, trying to protect them - begging they be spared when finally caught. But Rhaenyra thought the little girl looked oddly like Laena Velaryon, and upon closer inspection, discovered the twins to definitely be your children. They were spared and being taken care of by your mother, now; apparently being under strict watch.

"Oh, Gods," you breathed, starting to pace as panic cemented your stomach. "I-I should not have left. Oh, no, no, no, Gods, please, no, what have we done?"

"We don't know if your life would've been spared, my love," Aemond argued, turning to grab onto you and halt your pacing, "better you were here with us then left to the unknown. We will get our babies back, I swear to you."

"No, no, this is my mother we're talking about, Aemond," you snapped. "She would not harm me - "

"She would if she thought you Green," he pointed out. "I know you're worried, I am, too, but we will find our children soon. We are not abandoning them, I promise you."

"I just want our family together," you whispered tearfully, feeling stressed beyond belief. His arms encircled around you, letting you rest against his chest and almost forgetting the present company.

"My Prince?" Cole asked.

"We march for the capital," his head turned to look at Cole and nod, arms never loosening from around you. It was as if he thought his arms protected you, but it wasn't like you wanted to leave.

"No, no, we should join with Ormund Hightower and your brother, Prince Daeron!"

"Our family needs us," Aemond argued. "Our children, Cole! Where is your head, how can you think there's any other choice of action!?"

"The country needs us - and Daeron is your kin, so are the Hightowers!"

"Our children are in a sacked city, Cole! They're left with the enemy!"

"Which is truly unfortunate, but there is nothing - "

"LIKE HELL THERE ISN'T!" Aemond roared, letting go of you to stride up Cole in anger. "Our children will not be sacrificed! If it takes every life of every man at disposal, then that is what we will do!"

"You're all ignoring the biggest point," you snapped, reddened eyes glaring at the two men as the messenger was given leave to rest. "I told you Daemon did not simply leave - he was tipped off. There's a mole amongst us and someone is sharing secrets."

Aemond's head snapped to look at you, "I told you I did not trust him..."

"Who?" Cole asked.

"Ser Larys Strong," you sneered. "I do believe we need to have a conversation with Ser Simon Strong."

"For now, Lady, we should feast," Cole nodded. "It's been a long journey and the men are tired. Please, for tonight, allow us reprieve from turmoil."

Aemond nodded in agreement, and while you rested from pure exhaustion in a hard, cold bed, your husband took part in the night's festivities. You heard rumor later of him boasting how Daemon grew weary from their numbers and strength, but never once gave mention to the suspicions you shared.

[ part two ]

[ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ]

[ series masterlist ]

[coiled-dragon]

for the fandom ask, hannibal!

Send me a fandom!

(sweating in still hasnt watched season 3 because they know it'll wreck them shhh)

The first character I first fell in love with: Will Graham. Blorbo-kin-projection meter off the charts homie The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Cant think of any tbhhhh Im very much not gonna lie I sort of hyperfocused so hard on Hannibal and Will that sometimes I forget theres an amazing cast of characters around them, and I desperately need to rewatch the show and properly finish it The character everyone else loves that I don’t: idk if its everyone who loves him, but I cant stand Chilton LMAO The character I love that everyone else hates: Dont know if anyone I Love is hated by others hmm The character I used to love but don’t any longer: None all the characters I love never did anything wrong ever The character I would totally smooch: Gonna throw a wild card in here because I would normally be like Will and Abigail but u know what Peter Bernardone deserves a kiss and to be held a little The character I’d want to be like:  Beverly Katz... shes a fucking REAL ONE and im STILL MAD AND SAD ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO HER,,,, The character I’d slap: Mason Verger except I wouldnt slap him I would hold his face in a vat of acid A pairing that I love: Hannigram ♥ A pairing that I despise:  I cant think of any offhand tbh but im sure there are some I would dislike

[puppiekit]

(( NOT sure if this counts as spoilers since its about the Shadow Excerpt ))

.

.

HONESTLY.......... NOT SURE IF THIS IS AN UNPOPULAR OPINION... BUT IM ON NIGHTHEARTS SIDE IN THIS SCENARIO LMFAOO

like okay sorry not to project on the silly book cats but I have experienced this exact same scenario before its insane... Finchflight seriously cannot name ONE single reason she wants NightHeart back beyond "we work harder now"? LMFAOO this is insane. I've had people say similar things to me in the past and it just reeks of manipulation and guilt-tripping (not to say FinchFlight is this way, but the people I knew personally certainly were).

NightHeart very much feels like... The scapegoat child of his family dynamic overall. the 'problem child'. (not to say NightHeart has never done anything wrong ever but like... Be serious... A good majority of the crap his clanmates nagged at him over was stupid as all hell)

And like... Okay I love SparkPelt in all but imo if you, as a parent, are not present in your childs upbringing whatsoever (no matter the reason), and the moment you attempt to form a connection you instantly jump to pressuring and getting bad at them (the whole FireStar lineage + raging over changing name nonsense)... You really have no right to sulk over them being rightfully upset and seeking a different environment altogether. ESPECIALLY if you lack the will to communicate face to face.

NightHeart was nothing but an angry bitter mess back in ThunderClan... So honestly I dont know WHY they would want him back when his entire stay at ShadowClan has been rage free... its pretty obvious none of his clanmates genuinely respected him or cared for him, at least beyond a surface level obligation to watch over ones clanmates, causing him to lash out.

Or at the very least they totally FAILED to communicate the fact that they did care. I mean hes not the first character in the series to be this way for similar reasons (breezepelt, jayfeather, ivypool to an extent...).

They treated him like a problem and yet, now that they want him back, cannot so much as provide a good reason WHY. Not even a "because youre my kin". Not even a "because I miss you". How sad is that LMFAOO I would be upset too! If his personality is really that insufferable perhaps its best to let him be because he seems chill in shadowclan so far!?!?!

[moa-broke-me]

Y'know, I gotta say, it's been really weird having a fanfiction going for so long.

I mostly say this because I tend to abandon projects kinda quickly, but also because I'm making a lot of revelations about minor characters that I didn't usually give a second thought. Octavian and Drew, specifically.

Like, I mostly just thought of them as generically insufferable people at first, and while they certainly aren't pleasant... Well, I can't really speak for Octavian, sure his mom may have abandoned him (I'm not sure if that's canon I just read that somewhere) and sure that's sad, but he's also a power-hungry, manipulative, pretentious bully. I do feel sorry for the guy, especially since he's just a kid, but so is practically every other character in the series, and for the most part, they all seem to know better. So I'm kind of ambivalent about the character. I'm not entirely sure he deserved to DIE, especially at such a young age, but I'd rather that over a rushed, forced, and unearned forgiveness and subsequent acceptance by the group, which is probably what Rick would've done with him had he lived all the way to the end.

If I were to give him an arc, let's say Nico does intervene when he sees Octavian's cape caught in the trebuchet, not because he's forgiven him or to prove that he's a better person than Octavian or any of that junk, but because if he dies, he escapes the consequences of his actions. Sure, maybe he'll go to punishment, but that won't teach him anything, it'll just make him miserable, and the people he's hurt won't be able to truly hold him accountable in a way that matters.

Once the dust settles, he's exiled from New Rome for his failed coup, understandably, but CHB lets him crash in the Apollo cabin, mostly through Mr. D's suggestion. He's gone mad with power, Dionysus can sense it, and he knows what happens when you turn people like that loose to roam the streets.

He hates it there, he hates the greeks, and he hates Will especially, calling himself his 'kin'. He has no kinship with this hick, aside from perhaps a drop or two of ichor in his veins.

I also think he should get bullied after the camp learns about what he's done. It's realistic, I think, and he deserves a taste of his own medicine.

The funny thing is, Will actually sticks up for him. What a fool he is, so devoted to him even when he's given him nothing but snide remarks and stabbing glares.

Maybe it's the guilt of being treated so well when he's treated others so poorly, maybe it's the realization that this is what it feels like to be freely, unconditionally loved, or maybe it's both... But he's willing to give the greeks another shot.

To be clear, not all the characters forgive him in the end. Less consider themselves on good terms with him, and even less accept him wholeheartedly into their circle of friends. And that's totally within their right. Like I said, I'm very ambivalent about the character, I don't think he deserves the perfect happy ending that most of these characters do, at least not without some major fucking development that would have to take an entire solo book AT LEAST. Even that ambivalence is a more favorable opinion of him than I used to have, which is just 'irredeemable asshole'.

Drew, though, is a lot more sympathetic than that. A lot more sympathetic than Rick seemed to realize. Like, she felt betrayed, it only makes sense that she'd put her guard up, that she'd develop a hard edge, a shell if you will. Granted, a shiny pretty pink shell, but just as hard and stubborn as any other. And yes, I'm referencing Botticelli's Venus just a little bit, y'know the one where Venus emerges out of the clam shell? I'm not sure what I'd do with her, all I know is that she deserved better. She deserved more development, she deserved an arc, and Rick, to the best of my memory, never gave her one. And that sucks.

What makes my fanfiction weird specifically is that both of these characters, in the beginning, were written just to be one dimensional high school bullies, because that's essentially how I saw them. And once I started seeing other people posting about them in a positive way, at first I thought it was weird and just kinda ignored it, but then I was like... Hey wait a second, this makes sense, weirdly enough. I never thought about it like that before but... You're right!

So now, I have to find a way to integrate that into my fanfiction. The only problem?

A lot of the shit that makes these characters so interesting didn't happen in this fanfic. There was no war, no death (ok a little death), no world-shattering consequences or magical powers. It's a mortal high school AU. So I have to find some other way to make these characters be just a smidge more sympathetic, while also staying true to the original characterization. Like ok, they're bullies, but bullies bully for a reason. I also don't wanna uwu-ify them too much and make them into sad wet blorbos (we have enough of those). They're still unapologetically mean and selfish, but they have reasons behind that now.

Anyway all this to say, read my fanfiction if you want to I'm really proud of it.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/315247323-daddy-issues

[abcdosaka]

had a pretty hard time at work last week. got my period + i got chewed out by that one guy again (probably the fourth or fifth time by now) bc i didn’t communicate something well. the deadline is next week, which i didn't know about, and he wanted to have this completed last week and now its pushed to monday probably. it was my fault and i’ll admit that. but the truth is i just fucking hate talking to him. if he wasn't so completely intolerable to talk to i wouldn't mind it as much but holy shit. what a seriously hateable guy. i was watching a video earlier today and i got a little annoyed because the person in the video had similar features to the guy.

he always talks over me and doesn't let me finish my thought or question. he does this to everyone it seems worst with the women in the office

he definitely thinks i'm stupid. whenever i ask him a question he's like ok clearly i need to dumb this down for you (not exact phrasing of course but that's basically what he's saying). like no wonder i don't fucking like asking him questions

i feel like he regrets choosing to hire me. i know they wanted to hire someone a bit more experienced and i'm not like i just graduated. but to be quite honest in my interview i fucked up bad like i could barely answer the technical questions but i did express a desire to learn. so idk i feel like that's not really on me

our personalities just don't match at all. honestly i used to try hard to be laidback and able to handle anyone but it just kinda made me a pushover. when i assert myself with this guy he just gets mad. this always happens like every single time i try to assert myself bc i'll admit it, i'm a shy chick, i'm on fucking tumblr so no shit, but i hate hate hate the feeling of being steamrolled over.

his management style/expectations just make very little sense to me. like he's always pointing out stuff i should've done when i'm showing him results. or stuff that i didn't even think was my responsibility. he's kinda all over the place when giving me instructions, he's always skipping steps and then making me feel stupid for not being able to keep up. it gives me such imposter syndrome

all of this combined with the fact that he's super smart makes him pretty intimidating. and the fact that i have to mainly work with him bc he's the only other (specialized in my specific field at the office) is seriously like.... tough shit for me.

i'm not the first person to feel this way. two of the other junior employees said they really didn't like working with him. one of them even said she straight up couldn't deal with him bc he was so mean. she also said that the company is def aware of this but they're not great at responding to it.

the pm i'm doing one project with (which he was kinda supervising) was like yeah he's super intimidating and honestly not a fun guy to work with but he's a hard worker and will work to get stuff done. that's great that he's like the backbone of the company or whatever but that actually makes me a bit more mad. it's like when the patriarch of a family is trash but you can't say anything bc "oh he's holding it together he's the breadwinner". it just feels like it's being held over my head a bit. we couldn't have someone nicer in this position?

worst part is i can't just say he's a shit boss bc he's not wrong. like i said (his favourite words btw), he's chewed me out a lot over my communication skills and i get that i need to improve that but he just really gives me anxiety. plus he's told me good work over some stuff a couple times. (always with a caveat of course lmao). and i haven't been as fast as i know i could be bc i try to figure shit out by myself since i hate asking him questions, end up spinning my wheels and having to ask him anyway, and then he tells me i should be faster. which yes i totally could be if you weren't a piece of shit!

like people don't do things for no reason especially not me. maybe dumb reasons yes but not no reason. and i know what kinda things motivate me to actually thrive in a workplace. that is to say, i vibe with the carrot, i don't with the stick. i dunno i'm normally not super affected by it bc i really don't give a shit if he hates me on a personal level unless it affects my job but (this was on thursday evening when work was ending) prob bc of my period it really got to me this time and i cried on the way home and i was on/off crying yesterday. my eyes were soo puffy it was bad.

idk how long i'll last here. i really do kinda like working here (well i like 3 people and the rest i could take or leave) but i basically uprooted my life to be here. not that i'm mad about that bc i had very few friends back home and living at home was genuinely getting intolerable but it was a big decision. i don't want this to be a sunk cost scenario. but yesterday i was genuinely thinking like is this worth the stress? should i stay here for at least 4 years like i planned or stick it out for a year and get tf out?

i'm gonna try to be stronger and have more confidence bc i don't think he's the most unreasonable person ever. maybe i'll be petty and overcommunicate way too much and like tell him what i'm eating for lunch and shit bc at least it's fighting back somehow instead of being scared. (i'm not actually gonna do that. wish i could) but i'm not sticking around for much longer if things don't change. i just have no idea what to say or how to point it out esp if it's already a known issue. i do sorta feel supported by a couple ppl but...that has never been me, i've never felt strong enough to confront men like that. i guess if i do end up trying to leave, key word trying, i need to be really discerning during interviews. at least i have some leverage since i actually have a job now. as long as i don't lose it.

i was probably really upset bc this has been building up inside me for a while and my anxiety has taken over a lot thanks to him but i don't think its the worst situation to be in considering i'm new and i've only been in the office for like a month now. i just hate that i feel so associated with not meeting deadlines.

i also think i was kinda upset bc this dude is a lot like if my dad wasn't my dad but my boss. my dad is an alright father but if he wasn't personally related to me i wouldn't like him. getting yelled at by my dad was always terrifying for me as a kid so when my pm takes on that annoyed loud speaking tone all the fight in me just dies its embarassing. they're both really critical. neither of them can take a joke especially from a woman. plus they both smell bad like i forgot to mention this but holy moly they smell the exact same and it is MUSTY. oh and they're both asian. different parts of asia but whatever.

anyways like i know i can handle this i literally worked for that bitch karen in highschool and i was even less confident back then. plus i know i'm not stupid i graduated with a degree in this field and did 6 internships.

[tk-writer]

⭐️⭐️⭐️

I politely request some directors commentary for your fics.

fics?!? as in PLURAL?!?? with a 's'???

*cracks knuckles*

lets GOOOOOOO (infodump below le cut)

SOOOOOOOO in my most recent shadamy fic, i had them go to an indie neo-soul concert instead of Honet Pot or whatever tf that band was in MoStH. and thats because i had just gone to a Liv.e concert and wanted to incorporate that into the story since it was an AMAZING concert, plus the genre fit the vibes/tone i was going for moreso than a peppy pop singer :) and also i want more ppl to listen to her cuz shes phenomenal. my taste in music is superior, pls trust me on this

for the ongoing surgeamy fic i'm in the midst of writing, all of surge's dialogue and inner thoughts are what i say to myself when im having a bad bpd episode. and everything amy says to her is what i wish someone would say to me when i get bad. i see myself in both of them!! i kinda view them as my dark side thats angry and full of self hatred and my brighter side thats loving and sweet and compassionate!!

the one shot surgeamy fic was a rewrite of an old catradora fic that now seems awkward and weird when i look back on it lol. the setting and plot fits surgeamy soooo much better tho. originally i wrote it when i was pining hard for this girl who was my good friend, who kept getting fucked over by lame guys, and i wanted to swoop in like captain save a hoe like the raging bisexual i am lol. she ended up being super toxic and narcissistic tho so i dodged a bullet 🌚

when i wrote the amnesia sonamy fic, it was going to be TOTALLY different from the final draft. i was actually going to have amy lead sonic through her mind, but i didnt think it would hit as hard emotionally so i changed it to have her actively fighting against him, to depict her internal conflict of trying to forget him + trying to preserve her memories of him. i kinda wanna make an alternate ending or even another separate amnesia fic, but that shit was difficult to write so im gonna wait on that lmao.

in pieces of cloud, i realized i lowkey kin amy skfhsjd. i projected so much of myself into her character, from her bpd diagnosis (that no one has noticed yet cuz its such a small detail hehehe) to her fear of abandonment & anxious attachment style. all of that was taken from me and my personal real life experiences!! AND the therapist's dialogue is everything my current therapist tells me when i'm having an episode! its good advice so i wanted to share it 💗 and also heal amy cuz I LOVE HER (just like i love me! 🩷) also im still debating on writing an epilogue for it!! wanted a post frontiers scene but not sure if that would add anything to the story or not!

boom boom into my heart was supposed to be like 25 chapters, but after trying to write a few "fillers" i realized i hated them and they lacked the passion and excitement of earlier chapters. so i ended it early when i thought it felt more natural. im kinda bummed i couldnt stretch the slow burn a little longer, but i also didnt wanna drag it out or have it become boring just for the sake of being longer. does that make sense?

[dailycupofcreativitea]

Do you think Gohan has impacted you in your everyday life?

OoOoOoOOOo juicy question! 👀👀👀

The short answer is yes, but for kind of a weird reason. This is totally a word vomit/stream of consciousness type overshare so I'm putting it under the cut:

So I've loved Gohan ever since I was a kid. I never had a crush on him as a character or anything, but man I really, REALLY liked his character. Like I remember being 4 or 5 and kneeling on the ground in front of the TV, half-eaten cereal in front of me, staring at the TV in a trance as Goku teleported Cell away and Gohan started yelling. The Cell Saga was the first time I was introduced to DBZ, and in that moment Gohan became my favourite character ever and a huge comfort character.

He kind of fell on the backburner for a bit while I was indulging in other media like Inuyasha and Yu-Gi-Oh, where characters like Inuyasha and Bakura and became my comfort characters (oh god I even wrote tons of Yu-Gi-Oh fanfiction, all in a little private physical notebook), but in late middle school/early high school I was reintroduced to DBZ via the abridged series, then I rewatched the actual series a few times. And Gohan came back as a prominent comfort character for me.

Whenever I'm daydreaming, drifting, need to totally dissociate from the world (my childhood wasn't a good one and I dissociated often), I'd just make up DBZ fanfics in my head where Gohan was the main focus. I'd also write TONS of fanfics in little notebooks. I filled 3 whole notebooks with Gohan fanfiction!!! Exploring his character and his relationships to all the other characters in the series (which, as fanfics go, meant I also had to get good at writing each individual character and their relationships with each other, sans Gohan) was my way to destress after a really bad day. Like a little slice of normalcy (as normal as DBZ characters can be, anyways!). "Role-playing" those little healthy interactions between characters taught me a lot about how to have those interactions in my own life because it's a safe place to explore them. Aside from destressing though, it's also just incredibly fun. A way to make any day, good or bad, better!

Currently, I use Gohan (and other characters) to practice different artstyles and stuff, but also I've legitimately used these characters as a proxy for sorting through tough emotions for me to the point where my therapist even recommends I explore certain themes by drawing Gohan in different ways, and I even constantly show her my art and we pick apart the emotions that went into it XD Because I have a LOT of trouble drawing self-portraits of myself, but drawing Gohan comes really easily to me, and I constantly project a lot of my own experiences onto Gohan. So I can explore those feelings without having to draw pictures of myself. I think some people might consider this "kinning" but I don't associate with that term and don't consider myself a "Gohan kin" (since Gohan is simply lines on a piece of paper).

It's also just really fun to have something to obsess over. I really look forward to coming home and making a cup of chai so I can relax and draw. It's a prominent part of my day-to-day. If I DON'T draw DBZ characters doing stupid shit for a while then I definitely feel the difference.

So yeah, you can say that he's definitely impacted me in my every day life this way!

[theramseyloft]

You go on about how intelligent/emotional pigeons are, but you treat them like objects and that bothers me. You separate bonded pairs of these intelligent, loving animals so frequently as if they don't have any feelings. And then you wonder why these birds afterward do not just take a new mate instantly. You are continually traumatizing these animals and causing them to shut down because they probably begin to realize any new bond they make will only be severed.

I do that because they are.

There is a huge difference between treating a living being like an object and acknowledging that the feelings of a non-human will not often perfectly align with those of a human.

Different species are different.

They have different physical, emotional, and social needs, even if there are a lot of close parallels.

And there are certainly a lot of parallels between humans and pigeons;

They are self aware cooperative social learners.

They form societies.

Those societies have a culture that varies regionally and they have a base line of values...

But their society, culture, and values are different from a human’s because pigeons are not human.

Nothing specializes in preying on humans. We generalize in preying on everything, as a species, as a whole.

We change our environment to suit our needs as much as we are able, and we are more able with every generation.

While things, objectively, can happen to any human at any time, out of nowhere..

On the whole, we generally don’t expect them to.

As such, our monogamous relationships are, ideally, “Until death do us part” meaning “Until we both die of old age, preferably around the same time.”

To the extent that closely bonded humans are emotionally devastated by the loss of that life partner.

To many of us, a life partner is also counted as lost if they engage in sexual infidelity, and if this happens, we are just as devastated (if not even more devastated) as we could have been if that partner had died.

Pigeons are a prey species that evolved in a cheetah-and-thompson’s-gazelle-style arms race with the Peregrine Falcon.

Their monogamous relationships version of “Until Death do us part” can be better translated; “Until one or the other of us gets eaten on a foraging trip.”

And sexual fidelity does not enter into the equation for a pigeon unless their partner is treading or being tread by some one else at the exact moment that bird wants to tread or be tread by their partner.

A cock who wants sex will seek out his wife first, but if she is not interested, he will go asking all the hens away from their nest until one agrees and crouches for him.

If his mate changes her mind and wants him to tread her, she will seek him out and crouch to present herself.

He will tread his wife, and after they do the cute little “I just had sex” dance that’s reserved for mated pairs (side flings get neither this nor courtship. Just sex and separate.) she goes off to do what ever she wanted to do.

If the cock is satisfied, he goes with his wife.

If he still needs or wants more sex, he can tread as many hens as he wants. His wife will not care, because she has had her turn.

If a hen wants sex, she will seek out her husband, generally, but if he’s busy or away, she’ll present for who ever she likes.

Her husband does not care who filled the egg. He only cares that she lays it in his nest and he gets to help set and raise it.

Pigeons divorce partners they consider to be inadequate. Cocks who fail to fill eggs, hens who refuse to set eggs, partners of either sex that don’t spend enough time reaffirming their bond with their spouses...

Unrequited relationships and love triangles are also relationships that pigeons find themselves in.

A pair is considered to have divorced if one partner or the other moves in and spends their nights in the nest of another partner, not for mating with some one else.

Some times, divorces are mutual, and both birds move on to other mates.

Some times, they are not. And the partner left will pine and keep making overtures to reconcile with the partner that left them.

But when a mate just disappears and doesn’t come back, they are assumed by the remaining partner to have been eaten.

If they were closely bonded, the remaining partner may wait a week or so at most, in case they were lost, in hopes the missing bird will make their way back and reunite.

If, after a week, the remaining bird is keeping to them self and not socializing, something is physically wrong, and anthropomorphizing it as “depressed” can get the bird killed.

The veterinary term ‘depression’ describes an animal that is physically ill, be that from a pathogen attacking it to ingesting or absorbing a toxin or simple vitamin or mineral deficiency.

For example;

A week after I became aware that breeding pigeons could become salt deficient and gave the flock a salt and trace mineral brick, birds that had shown no interest in bonding or courting for months are suddenly flirting with everything that moves.

They were not too traumatized to before.

They had a mineral deficiency.

They did not court because they did not feel good.

With the addition of their supplement brick, lo and behold, they all feel better and are courting again.

I have an entire flock to take care of, and I am responsible for the wellbeing of every individual I bring into the world.

To avoid overcrowding, I have a cap of 10 breeding pair.

Because that is the number of adults and their offspring under 6 months old that my loft can comfortably house.

When ever a new breeding bird leaves quarantine or a keeper reaches 6 months, a bird of the same sex has to be retired and made available to avoid overcrowding and the stress and disease that come with it.

Who retires when is not arbitrary.

There are very strict criteria.

1. Physical health.

Regardless of whether or not I have a replacement ready, a bird who may be hurt by the physical process of reproduction or the strain of rearing young, or who may pass on genes that may be harmful to potential offspring is retired on the spot and adopted out with a strict nonbreeding agreement.

Gus is a sweet boy,

But this happens to him every molt, and we have since found out that it runs in both sides of his family, proving it to be genetic and cumulative.

As cute as he and Leela were together, I cannot let him breed.

Because I would have to be a monster to be willing to knowingly pass that painful condition on to another generation.

He has a forever family familiar with his condition to whom he is going on Monday.

2. Undesirable structure

I do not mean anything as stupid as “This animal isn’t pretty enough.”

Cody is not only gorgeous, but an excellent father who has served our program very well.

But his muffs are big enough to make walking uncomfortable, so while I like the rest of his traits, that’s one I want to breed away from.

Now that I have a brother and Sister of his with short muffs that do not cause them discomfort, 

Farthing 

and suki

will continue contributions to the project

and Cody is available.

3. Antisocial behavior that disrupts or disturbs their flock mates.

Indica

And Pookie 

Are the poster children for flock disruption.

They are a gay and bi mated pair of cocks, who are literally turned on by prying other treading pairs off of each other.

If they see another pair treading, Indica will grab the hen by the scruff, Pookie will grab the cock by his, and they will pull in opposite directions, prying the treading pair apart, and marching them in opposite directions towards the wall.

Indica and Pookie will then throw the bird they have at the wall and then run back to meet each other in the center of the floor, smooch-feed each other back and forth, and take turns treading each other.

On top of this, they defend 15 of the 36 total nest boxes in my loft, refusing to pick a specific one or let any other pair settle in a box to lay.

You may or may not have noticed that when I advertised the available birds on Thursday, I made a point of saying that I would prefer these two be adopted together because they are bonded and would be happier that way.

A prospective new family is coming to meet them on Monday.

But they are SUCH a violent disruption to their flock mates that if only one had a home lined up, it would be unkind to the rest of the flock to keep them both on the insistence that they go together.

4. Shitty parenting history

Parents who tend to ignore eggs or peeps, leaving all the work of setting or feeding to their partner.

This is a personality trait, and such a parent puts dangerous strain on their partner and stress on their peeps. 

Their partner will usually divorce them for that, so adopting the bad parent out isn’t “Splitting up a bonded pair”.

Their former spouse is usually looking for or has found some one else with out any interference on my part.

5. Too many offspring/grandchildren

This is to avoid any more inbreeding than necessary.

Betty is one of the best studs here.

He is an outstanding father who sits tight on his eggs, pumps his peeps full, and educates them carefully though weaning.

MANY are his children and grand children, and he has a strong preference for birds with faces like his.

He has already bred with his niece to produce Sherry, and I would like to avoid having him breed to any more of his kin.

Once his peep with Liang is weaned, he will be adopted.

Liang is very skittish, and she liked him right off the bat, so I delayed his retirement to give her more time to feel secure with the flock.

But with her egg hatching, she is allowing herself to be casually flirt with more.

Wukong still likes her. So do Cherub and Ginger, so she’ll have her pick when Betty goes to his new home.

6. Temperament

The Therapy Bird Project is working towards developing a performance breed with a temperament conducive to Therapy work.

All else being equal; The birds are all physically sound with no known detrimental genes, no embellishments too exaggerated, not overly aggressive to flock mates, great parents... Then the bird least interested in human company gets retired.

The ground work of physical and mental base soundness has to be laid first and foremost for that excellent temperament I’m aiming for to shine in their handler’s lives for as long as possible.

You probably have not noticed that when bonded pairs retire at the same time, I make a thing of them being bonded in hopes that they will be adopted together.

Dodger and Alex retired close enough to each other that both are still here, and I would prefer they be adopted together.

But if one of them gets a perfect home lined up where I think that individual will be happy, I will not refuse them that good home for the sake of not splitting up a pair.

You care about the idea of that a LOT more than the pigeons themselves do.

[moldisgoodforyou]

valentine’s day

warnings: cursing as per usual. also. angsty!!! blame the anon tho not me I accept zero responsibility for anything here. it’s about the GROWTH people

wordcount: 2.2k

source: @obi-kin​

Rafe called Sophie at 5pm on Valentine’s Day, his tone unusually bright. Sophie had been in the architecture studio all week and they hadn’t seen each other in a few days, so he was especially eager to take her out. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was a sucker for romance. His last long-term girlfriend hadn’t really entertained it, and made fun of him often for trying too hard. While Sophie might have occasionally ribbed him for his gestures, she made a point to show him she appreciated it, which always made him more eager to please.

“Hey! Will you be ready soon? I’ll pick you up,” Rafe greeted when she answered.

“Ready?” Sophie sounded distant, with her phone on speaker lying on the desk next to her work.

“...Yes? That’s what I said, are you ready?” He cocked his head with the phone pressed to his ear, thinking he might have had bad reception.

She furrowed her brow, trying to think if she had forgotten something. She was usually meticulous about her plans, marking everything down in her calendar no matter what. “Ready for what?”

From his voice, she could tell he was becoming more and more deflated, but couldn’t quite place why.

“Soph, you’re serious?”

She wrinkled her nose a little at the question. “Yes, I’m serious. What am I missing here?”

“Ready for dinner. Downtown.” Rafe didn’t give her anything more, hoping she’d remember, hoping she didn’t completely forget something he’d been looking forward to for the past week. He ran his hand through his hair impatiently as he waited for her response.

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to remember. “Rafe, I can’t go to dinner tonight, I have to work on my project due Friday. I got caught up with helping some of my students earlier.”

To him, she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, just factual. He was silent, almost in disbelief for a moment. “Right. I forgot school comes first.”

His tone was more bitter than he intended, and she almost flinched just hearing it over the phone, her own voice growing apologetic. “Well, yeah, I have to -”

“S’whatever.” He cut her off abruptly. “I have to go. Have fun with your project.”

“Rafe...” she tried, unsuccessful as he hung up. Feeling uneasy, she briefly debated calling him back to figure out what was up, but another student knocked on the studio door and she got distracted helping them try to find spare supplies. After a while, she decided to just push it off and ignore it, chalking it up to a bad day on his end.

A few hours later, when it was nearing midnight, Rafe shot her a text - a simple ‘How much longer? I’ll come drive you home.’ He had cancelled their dinner reservation and got Mexican with the boys instead, but resisted from indulging in the drink specials, knowing he still wanted to see Sophie despite her forgetting their plans.

Still a little stung from his comments (and completely unaware of what she did), she shot back her text right away - ‘I’m fine, I’ll walk.’ She was packing up her things when he texted, planning on leaving soon anyways, but wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her after his demeanor on the phone.

Always loyal, Rafe was already waiting out front in his car when she walked out a few minutes later. She scowled at his stubbornness that rivaled hers but strolled up to the car anyways and opened the door, but didn’t get in just yet. “Are you still mad at me?”

He paused for a moment, considering his response. “I’m not really happy with you right now, no. But get in. I don’t want you walking home alone.”

She sighed but climbed in, setting her backpack at her feet, and crossed her arms across her chest with a little huff. “Look, Rafe, I don’t know what I did to make you all pissed off, but -”

Rafe leaned back and pulled out a bouquet of flowers from the backseat, setting it in her lap. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Dead silence.

Her jaw dropped and she glanced at her phone for the date, just to confirm how badly she’d screwed up. “I...fuck,” she whispered, swallowing hard.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t forget. Tried giving you the benefit of the doubt, you know.” His voice softened a little but he kept his eyes trained on the road, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel.

Sophie looked like she was about to cry, shrinking back into her seat as her cheeks grew hot. “I’m so, so sorry, Rafe. I guess I thought it was next week or something. I know this was important to you.”

He exhaled at her apology, glancing over with concern when he saw her wobbling lip and teary eyes. “It’s fine, Soph, it’s nothing to cry over.”

“No, I - you’ve been so sweet, and so supportive, and I was being totally selfish,” she started rambling, reaching out for him and only stopping once he took her hand and squeezed gently. He only wanted to make her realize how he felt for a moment, not to make her truly upset.

It was like all the stress from the past week had all piled up on her at once and this was the tipping point, something she could have controlled. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. “I’m going to make it up to you. Saturday. I mean it.”

He turned to her at the stoplight and ran his thumb over her cheekbone, trying to calm her down. “What if I have homework?”

“Oh.” Sophie’s face fell. “Right, never mind -”

Rafe laughed a little, shaking his head quickly. “No, no, I’m sorry, that was mean. Saturday, then?”

“Yes.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Saturday, belated Valentine’s Day. I won’t be a terrible girlfriend.”

“You’re not a terrible girlfriend.” He hesitated before continuing, pulling up on the street outside her sorority house and turning off the car so he could walk her to the door like always. “Just, um.” After a few seconds, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me.” She reached out and took his hand again, brows knitting together in concern.

He spoke quickly, only making eye contact once he got it all out. “Sometimes I feel like second place to your schoolwork.” After a moment’s pause, he added quickly, “and it’s not a big deal, I really admire how hard you work and I know it’s important to you. But.” He shrugged. “It just felt like something I should tell you.”

“Rafe, baby...” She frowned, squeezing his hand in reassurance upon hearing his confession. “I love you so damn much, you know that?”

He nodded and leaned over to kiss her, hating the way her eyes started welling up with tears again. “I know. I love you too. We don’t have to talk about it, it doesn’t really matter.”

“It does matter.” She shook her head and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “I fucked up, and I’ve been getting way too caught up with school. That’s not fair to you.”

“I know you’re busy.” He mumbled, pressing his head into her touch. “S’okay. I’m being needy, or whatever.”

“You’re not.” She crawled over the center console without a second thought, albeit a little awkwardly, and threw her arms around him once she sat on his lap, holding him close. “That thought hasn’t occurred to me once. Ever.”

He let his head rest against her shoulder, nuzzling into her. “You’re sure? Because my ex -”

“Rafe.” She frowned as she cut him off. “I’m sure.” She told him confidently, rubbing small little circles against his back. “I’ve missed you, I’ve been way too busy. And I’m so sorry I fucked up Valentine’s Day for you, I know you’d been looking forward to it.”

He hummed in acknowledgment against her neck, relaxing more at her touch. “Do I get you the whole day Saturday?”

“The whole weekend, even.” She smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He laughed and lifted his head, giving her a sweet kiss. “Two whole days with just you might be too much to handle.”

She blushed and poked his stomach, holding back a grin. “Stop it, you love me.”

“I do. My favorite.” He grinned and kissed her again, then nodded toward her sorority house. “Any chance I could come up with you?”

“Depends, do you want to watch Gone Girl with my roommates?”

Rafe furrowed his brow in concern. “Gone Girl? On Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes.” She nodded once. “We’ve all been single on the holiday for the last two years, it’s tradition.”

“Can’t partake in tradition if you’re locked down.” He teased. “Unfortunately the boys are home tonight too, so. Looks like we’re both going home to empty beds.”

Sophie scowled and leaned forward, bumping their noses together then resting her forehead on his. “Three more months and then we’ll have our own rooms in senior houses to have all the sleepovers we want.”

“Ah, not quite. Three more months and then you’re leaving me for a whole more three months.” Rafe corrected, resting his hands on her hips and rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs.

“Don’t remind me, that’s the worst part.” She groaned, dropping her head down to his shoulder. “I’m gonna pack you in my suitcase, you think you can make the flight in cargo?”

“Nah, you’d miss out on the clothing space.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She mumbled against his neck, not wanting to let him go.

“As comfortable as this is, can we move to the backseat if we’re stuck here for a second? I want to give you your gift.”

She lifted her head and nodded, then crawled into the backseat, Rafe laughing as he got out then slid in the back with her. Sophie grabbed her backpack from the front seat. “Wait, me first. Close your eyes. It’s not wrapped yet, because I wasn’t ready - well, um. Just close your eyes.” She tripped over her words, cheeks feeling hot again as she thought again about how poorly she handled the day.

He reached out and squeezed her shoulders quickly. “It’s alright, Soph.”

“It’s not. But just close your eyes.”

Rafe nodded dutifully and shut his eyes, holding out an expectant hand. She placed a small wooden jewelry box in it, unwrapped, with dark red felt lining and a little grid organizer inside. He opened his eyes and furrowed his brow for a moment, running his thumb over the stained wood with his engraved initials on top. “It’s a box?”

She laughed. “Open it.”

He undid the latch and grinned once he realized what it was, with one of his rings she had ‘borrowed’ nestled inside. “How’d you know I needed one of these?”

“Because you’re always putting them in terrible spots. I took that one from the cupholder in your car last week.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I made it, is it okay? Do you like it?”

“It’s awesome, Soph.” He leaned forward and kissed her quickly once he noticed her nerves. “I can’t believe you can make this kind of stuff, it’s fucking cool.”

She smiled, relaxing a little. “It’s not much, but I think it could be useful. Better than just setting your rings on your counter, anyways.”

“I love it.” He smiled back, then reached down and pulled out a gift bag from under the seat, handing it to her. “This is kind of...well, I don’t know, it’s not really a romantic gift. So maybe lower your expectations.” He warned.

Sophie raised her eyebrows, confused, until she unwrapped the gift and pulled out a big set of nice drawing markers, meant for architecture. Her meager eight pack had been steadily drying out over the semester, bought second hand from an older student, and were barely getting her by. She hadn’t realized he noticed from his time just hanging out in the studio with her.

“Wow.” She breathed out, unzipping the case and running her fingers over the markers all lined up.

“Is it okay? That’s the brand you use, right? And the colors are okay?” His eyes flitted over her face with brief concern.

She nodded quickly and set them aside, pulling him into a hug. “It’s perfect, Rafe, I don’t think you know how much I needed those.” She took a deep breath, a little shaky.

“You’re welcome, baby.” He ran his hands up and down her back, pulling her into his lap. “Hey. No crying.”

She sniffled a little, mumbling into his shirt. “M’not crying.”

“You are too, I can hear it.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and she lifted her head to kiss his lips. “I don’t like it when you cry.”

“I don’t like crying when I’m with you.” She gave herself a moment to compose herself. “Thank you, Rafe, so much. You’re too good to me.”

“No such thing.” He kissed her long and slow, cupping his hand against her cheek. “I love you Soph, no matter what.”

“Love you too. I promise, I’ll make Valentine’s Day up to you this weekend. You can hold this over me forever.” She teased, tugging gently on the ends of his hair.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Forever’s a long time.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll need it if you’re gonna put up with me for that long.” She grinned and kissed him quickly, not giving him a second to think about her words before crawling off his lap and grabbing the flowers and her gift. “I love you. You’re my favorite, I mean it.”

“Mine too.” He took the hint and helped her out of the car, then walked her to the door. “Sweet dreams, angel.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23

[mysillytdsideblog]

more mike system hcs

Excuse my rambling i feel a bit ill

there is actually more alters than what weve seen in ROTI and AS. I think this cause of the way how the alters have been revealed in canon, there was no sign that the alters existed before they actually fronted for the first time with the acception of Mal. So really this could just be all the alters who were out during TD instead of it being the entire system

If anyone wants to make oc alters please show me them i wanna see

back when they got diagnosed in juvie, out of all of the alters that we know of, only Svetlana, Manitoba, and Mal knew of eachother and established communication. Briefly Mike and Mal interacted but Mal has a tendency to go dormant so Mike thought he “got rid of him”. I think this because when Mal was returning, Svetlana and Manitoba seemed the only ones to be concerned where as the rest looked confused.

Mike, Vito, and Chester didnt know about Manitoba until he fronted in ROTI

Chester and Mike can switch with eachother super easily, but Chester struggles to switch with anyone else

Svetlana is one of the most active durring therapy, but she mostly just acts like everything is going fine (usually because she doesn’t remember that its not)

Manitoba and Mal actually get along well and both are playfully mischievous

Mal likes burning things and will often take things such as toys and pictures and burn them in his firepit (he thinks its funny)

Mal finds breaking things so funny and uses it to cope with his anger

Mal has BPD totally not cause my best friend who kins mal has bpd or anything

Mal has trouble sorting out what really happened vs what he feels like what happened

Aka feeling threatened by people who didnt actually do anything wrong, but he feels attacked/betrayed cause of #awesomementalillness and #trauma

Mike and Mal get headaches after switching with eachother

Vito and Chester are the best at Italian, Mal is the best at Spanish, and Mike is the best at English (but they can all speak all 3)

Mike comes from an immigrant household and most of his family doesnt speak english. A lot of his hispanic side does, but not a lot of his italian side. This is me just projecting my expirence from coming from an immigrant

They all tend to switch talking in one language to talking to another when around family

Svetlana loves avocados and bananas

[simplyarmin]

Hii! Hxh matchup please! My personality type is INFP and I'm bisexual. I have Adhd which affects me in a lot of ways but mainly things like RSD (which as a sort of trauma-amplifier has helped in giving me some serious self-esteem issues and because of past trauma one of my main problems is never feeling good enough and just below the cut), really bad executive dysfunction even though I have so many lovely interests and hobbies I try to do, and some minor memory trouble. Despite all that I still manage to seem really really determined for my goals to no end. I mainly love any kind of creation and art like writing, drawing, painting, moodboard/other editing projects, but also just walking or shopping I suppose, and even more! I also have a huge passion for studying things I like. Just some are astrology, psychology (mainly in mental disorders), herbology, literature and Character analyzing, and more!

I love affection in any way and while I think words of affirmation are a needed kind of love for me all love languages always make me happy! I love deep talk and being able to over share or just speak about everything. I want someone who interests me but also let's me know they're interested in me or find me special or unique or just s o m e t h i n g.

I don't have a religious label that I like for many reasons and get uncomfortable at the idea of one. Spiritual is ok but even that is a lil much now. I have a deep hate of authority figures over me because of experiences and I strongly dislike people who never let me express myself in some way.

I kin Gon, Reki from sk8 the infinity, anne from Anne with an E, Syd from I am not ok with this, and Coraline

So, I'm idealistic, stubborn, determined, creative, introverted, intelligent, and affectionate! If this was too long I'm sorry!

your hunter x hunter match is...

killua!

you didn’t specify an age range (which is totally okay btw) but i just hope i’m not shipping a fourteen year old with an adult lol. anyways— you are absolutely adorable, i love youu! you deserve anything and everything, and killua thinks so too.

dude he would find you so interesting and cool. i know most people probably think that killua is the type to judge people, and he may be like that on the outside, but he’s literally the biggest sweetheart deep down!

he doesn’t do much creative stuff (considering his childhood and everything) so he would definitely watch you doing your thing from afar. he then would get way too curious and come sit next to you. he would try to be subtle about it, but he would find whatever your doing so cool. this situation would probably end with him attempting to draw something, failing miserably, and blaming the pencil/marker/pen on it.

the way killua would show his affection towards you would be subtle and private. he’s the jealous type yet he would never show any sign of love in public? quite strange. nevertheless, when your alone, he turns into this absolute softie. he had a harsh childhood, and really relates to you on your trauma. so you both clearly need some comforting. you both typically will sit very close together, leaning on each other carelessly while being on the verge of sleep. when you fall asleep first, he’ll kiss whatever part of you is closest to his lips. be it your forehead, cheek, or even hand.

i find your relationship adorably innocent and sweet. (can i be you?? pls??)

[delusion-of-negation]

top 10 (ish) ridiculous or annoying FAQs:

(click at your own discretion)

1) "kids today rely on others to do everything"

ah yes, damn those participation trophies! if it wasn't for them my hands wouldn't be fucked, and I wouldn't need people to write for me. but seriously, stop reading boomer comics, and go outside to meet some actual young people.

2) "sus that a non-american says mom"

yeah, because it's clearly the superior version, and I'm not too patriotic to concede a defeat.

3) "sweaty, the victims of abuse by catholics are real people, stop appropriating their pain just because you want to hate catholics; plus teachers abuse people just as often anyway"

so firstly, I don't hate anybody. and secondly, regarding the fact that victims really do exist, [insert "of course I know him, he's me" meme here]; although I don't often talk much about the abuse I went through or what my religious beliefs are. but, more importantly, statements like "survivors are people" can be phrased like "some people are survivors", and when you're unable to act according to the latter (like when you don't even consider that somebody might be one) then you display a failure to recognise the former - you're projecting; a survivor can't be appropriating their own pain, but you can be appropriating it to silence one. and thirdly, teachers do abuse - the problem isn't and has never been purely religion, rather that abuse is often done by somebody in a position of trust, power, and familiarity; and that the lack of a global minimum enables totally legal abuse on top of the illegal stuff. people with access and respect have more opportunity to abuse than those without, and that goes for teachers too. but, once again, you can be appropriating the pain of survivors to deflect and silence people. please remember this before you say that shit.

4) "get help/therapy"

way ahead of you - years ahead of you. but it's not magic - people who say this often act as if you'll start behaving differently overnight. not only are some things simply beyond the ability of talking therapy to completely rectify, it also takes time and has to be selective. you've got to pick your priorities, and that's definitely not whatever ship or joke you're mad at me about today. therapy is a slow, arduous process that can't guarantee results - it isn't "anti-recovery" to recognise that, it's honesty. while I've been in therapy for a long time, it is not necessarily going to change whatever you don't like about me - whether that's because it can't, because my focus now is on more important or urgent things, or because I don't want to change that.

5a) "tell your family you ship incest, see how that goes; normal people find it disgusting"

actually, some know, and they're fine with it. in fact, one prefers sibling pairings in fiction to all other dynamics because, to paraphrase, "it's a deeper level of messed up co-dependence". so unfortunately for you, my remaining family (by which I mean those not dead or cut out of my life after abuse and so forth) actually are able to distinguish between fiction and reality. plus, my reasoning for caring if they find it gross or not pertains only to recommending books and such - their opinions do not dictate my tastes.

5b) "don't sexualise/appropriate incestuous abuse" and "I bet you enjoyed being raped" and other attempts to upset me over 5a

firstly, as I've already said here, survivors can't be appropriating ourselves. in addition, you're not owed people's history or trauma - it's not okay to require people's personal information, or else you'll send anon hate and accusations of appropriation. secondly, I'm not sexualising our abuse (not just because I write horror, and so a lot of my writing is intended to be creepy, not sexy); these stories aren't about us, they're not us at all. entire dynamics/people (fictional or otherwise) aren't all going to be applicable to us or identical to us, just because they have something in common with us; they're not us and they're not accountable to us. thirdly, the fact that people send this stuff (attempting to trigger people's trauma over ships) is so much more worrying to me than somebody making our communal imaginary friends kiss. you're trying to hurt people. and finally, to the "I bet you enjoyed it" crowd (if you're at all serious): do you think you'd enjoy being in a real zombie apocalypse, alone, afraid, and really at risk of being eaten alive? a fictional scenario does not feel remotely the same as a real one. this isn't rocket science - things that look like you aren't you; fiction isn't reality; don't send anon hate. (edit: comparable "just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone" sentiments for yandere stuff, and anything else you decide I'm naughty for.)

6) "you'll be sent off to do manual labour once your communist revolution happens"

while I don't know why people think that I'm a communist, a dictatorial regime probably isn't going to want me to do manual labour. they're more likely to just shoot me; I'm useless and a liability. call me crazy, but something tells me that "ah yes, we shall give ze deranged cripple ze power tools" isn't the communist position.

7a) "they/them can't be singular pronouns"

yes they can, and they're used as such in both shakespeare and the bible. but you don't have to say this - I'm also okay with he/him, so you could've just used those and chilled out. also, do I look like somebody who views the rules of grammar as fully immutable and imperative?

7b) "enbies/aros/pan/etc aren't valid"

do you really think that you're going to change any hearts or minds by putting that in my ask box or under my funny maymays? chill out, it's not worth the effort - you could be planning a party (in minecraft) and having fun instead. it isn't worth my time to rant at everybody who's saying something isn't valid, updating how I'm explaining it as my opinions grow and general discourse around it evolves; I'm just who I am, somebody else is who they are - why bicker in presumptuous ways about if that's enough? it ultimately is valid, in my opinion, but that isn't an invitation to keep demanding that I debate. (edit: old posts of mine probably don't phrase things incredibly, on this or anything... I tried.)

8) "what are your politics?"

my politics are informed first and foremost by the knowledge that I'm not cut out to be some kind of leader - I don't want to be the guy who tells everyone else what to do, I just offer what seem to me like valid criticisms of how we are doing things now, and general pointers on the values and ethics that I would prefer to move towards. things like individual freedom, taking the most pacifist route where possible, trying not to give excessive power to small groups of people (governments or corporations), helping those in need even when they're not palatable, and letting me suck loads of dicks. but please refrain from decreeing me something - there's not enough information in what I said, so you'll just be filling in the blanks with assumptions. (edit: workplace democracy seems cool to me; benefits are good; fair fines and taxes; and the "sperm makes you loopy" saga: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

9) "you're a narcissist"

no, I don't meet the diagnostic criteria. joking on the internet that you're hot doesn't make a person a narcissist. the fact that I've chosen to keep my actual self-esteem issues to myself is not proof that they don't exist - you're just not entitled to that information about me. but it's also not narcissism to really like how you look. (edit: don't throw labels around carelessly too.)

10a) "kin list?"

the fabric of the universe, a zombie, dionysus, maned wolf/arctic fox hybrid, a comedian, big gay, big rock, ambiguously partial insincerity. (edit: kin list may or may not be incomplete.)

10b) "kin isn't valid/that's just being insane"

haven't we established that I'm deranged, and that sending stuff like this on anon is simply a waste of your precious time? besides, I do not care if it's invalid or insane - it's fun, I'm happy. (edit: see 7b for my opinion on sending me yet another ask with "that's invalid" in it; I'm not in the mood to discuss the nature of validity.)

bonus: "it gets better" and "trigger list?"

as I've said before, things just don't always get better for everyone - sometimes things can't be cured or even treated, sometimes they kill you; in some cases it could get better if not for a blockade or lack of time. the world is messy. it needs to be more normalised to reassure or comfort people without relying on saying that their issue will get better or be cured. it does suck to be this ill, but it also sucks to be made out to be a lazy pessimist, just because I have the audacity to not play along. and as for the trigger list, I don't like providing people with an easily accessed list of ways to hurt my feelings or harm me - upsetting me is supposed to be challenging, and thus rewarding. if you want a cheat sheet then you're out of luck, I'm afraid.

bonus #2: "FAQ stands for frequently asked questions, it doesn't need that s at the end!"

yeah, I know, I just enjoy chaos and disarray.

bonus #3 (edit): "what are your disabilities and how exactly are they incurable and/or deadly?"

again, I don't tell the internet everything about me, especially when it poses a risk, especially not as an easily accessible list for you to refer back to whenever you feel inclined to hurt my feelings. that is understandably a sore subject. (edit: that includes physical health issues btw.)

bonus #4 (edit): "so we shouldn't be critical?"

if it wasn't clear from my answer about politics or my post in general, you can have opinions about things, and you can voice that. it's just not realistic to exist at extremes: to think that you alone should dictate what exists in fiction, or to think that people shouldn't be expressing disdain or criticism of any calibur. say how you feel about things, that's fine, but it's also fine if people find that they don't value your input. plus we're all flawed, we can all be hypocritical from time to time, we all get bitchy, and we all make mistakes, or even knowingly fuck things up. that's important to keep in mind, whether we're talking about the one being criticised or the one doing the criticising - poor choices of words, imperfect tone, or contradictory ideas are inevitably going to happen occasionally.

congrats on reaching the end! if you have, at any point, said one of these to me, you owe a hug to your nearest loved one (once it's safe).

edit: might add more links/bonus points in the future when I think of things, but it's late now. (sorry for links where prior notes in the thread have my old url, that may get a tad confusing; also, not all links are my blog or my op, since it is to illustrate points/vibes, not to self-promo.)

[k347]

| Evanstan- One Shot |

Notes To Self

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan

Warnings: None. Maybe... a lots of fluff??😙

Author's Note: This drabble contains a lot of references from interviews and articles published in real life. But I don't mean to project any of this in the actual-incidents or life of these two people. This is a work of fiction, purely a fragment of my imagination. Please treat it as such.

*************************

Summary :

Chris Evans just got a few days off from the busy-hollywood-actor-schedule, so he is staying with his boyfriend in their NYC apartment and cherishing every bit of this time. Today Seb had a few press related work commitments and Chris got to see the professional-Sebastian Stan in his element, which he loved! But Chris loves THIS more. Being tucked into the same bed, quietly listening to Sebastian's strong heartbeat among the faint sounds of late NY traffic. He lets out a soft chuckle when an exhausted Seb ocassionly mutters something romanian in his deep sleep. It's incredibly charming and at the same time it is calming and soothing. Chris knows it's past 01:00 am. He should probably stop staring at his beautiful boyfriend now and go back to sleep. Especially when both of them have planned to go on an early morning stroll tomorrow. But before that, being the introspective guy he is, Chris decides to pen down some of his thoughts on paper!

*************************

From the Journal of Christopher Robert Evans -

29th November 2019,

To-do-list, Daily Notes and Observations for future-self :

🔸Try to match clothes with Seb more often

🔸Especially the maroon, because he looks smoldering HOT (🔥) in that colour. It brings out the passion in his eyes.

🔸Try to get involved and a front seat in the room whenever Seb does his next photo-shoot. EVERYTIME! It might sound like a slightly perilous idea considering the tabloids, but it'll be totally worth it.

🔸Although I know he subconsciously looks and acts like he's in a photoshoot 24/7, there's something about him posing infront of a camera, being sinfully pouty and intensely gazing that increases my heart rate and makes the butterflies in my stomach invite some more fireflies 🔥

🔸Go to the gym together frequently. This shoot just reminded me of how deliciously distracting he can be while working out. Holy shit, I need to make it our quotidian routine!

🔸Buy some more Armani bath-robes. Just do it. Maybe one of those David Yurman necklaces, too.

🔸NEVER argue with Seb about roads in New York. He clearly knows better, so he'll always win. In addition to that, he'll always remember your dumb-ass-fight and give an ode to that in his cute-dorky-short videos by making a guy ask him about '4th and Lex'. That unknown-model/stranger apparently represents my ignorant attitude towards the travel advice given by this self-proclaimed 'Best-New-York-tour guide' (😅) God, he's such a dork, my dork!

🔸Buy him a customised T-shirt that says 'Chubby-Dumpling' or 'Dumpling-Man' or maybe both. The nickname from the fans in China still gives him full-belly-laughs.

🔸On your next Boston trip take him to the REAL Dunkin Donuts.

🔸Always stash the freeze with Pizzas and donuts and hot dogs whenever he's having a cheat-day

🔸After a big cheat-day lunch he'll insist on not having anything for dinner. He'll be pretty kin on that. But don't listen to him. Make the romanian bouef-salad recipe you got from his mom. He always caves in with that one! He did today, too.

🔸Interviews for magazine profiles don't always go really well. I've also had my share of bad ones. When things like that happen, don't let him overthink and over analyse it. Seb himself can be a bit capricious at times and every interviewer can't capture the accurate image of a person through his/her writing from an hour long interview. But not everyone gets the privilege to understand,admire and adore this soft, pure, a little shy, beautifully complex and precious soul.

🔸Despite of being an amazing, talented and wonderful human being, Seb will doubt himself at times. Have mercurial mood swings because of it. It's a part of how the human brain functions.

🔸As excruciating as it is for you to witness, don't rush him through that. Let him complete his own thought process, but also never leave his side during that time. Hold him, be there for him. Just like he is there for you, always.

🔸 Seb moves around, paces a lot when he is nervous. Licks his parched lips, tossles his hair. In all honesty, he is more fidgety than Dodger during a haircut!

🔸So when his negative thoughts start to proliferate, give him some extra warm hugs. He says those help and also because you can't help it!

🔸Be an anchor for him during all this turbulance.

🔸Cuddle on that spacious, heavenly couch in the apartment till all of the brain noises settle down.

🔸Then make Seb realise how fucking PERFECT he is and try to erase each and every one of the insecurities he has about his physique and not putting on enough muscle

🔸Tell this sweet, kind, gorgeous man that he's not '50-miles behind' anyone. He doesn't need to compare himself to anybody else, simply because it's not fair, to THEM!

🔸Nobody can ever be compared to Sebastian, because he truly is the one and only♥ He doesn't need to worry about the ego maniac-races in Hollywood️ because he is playing in his own pro-league! Make sure to always remind him of that.

🔸Whenever people compliment him, Seb acts polite and then often internally wonders if they are being obsequious. But do it just right, with a few yet genuine words and he'll turn into an adorably blushing goofball. Try to bring that look on his face as much as you can.

🔸 Last but not the least, Love him. Just Love him. Treasure him, spend time with him as much and as often as you can, till the very last second that you're breathing. You'll never be able to figure out how you got so lucky to get to be with this actual angel of a human being, so don't wreck your mind over it. Seb is the universe's blessing to you. Never dare to forget that. And try to improve yourself each and everyday for him. Because Sebastian Stan, truly does deserve the best!

🔸Ohh, and also remember to buy some bigger blankets. As cute as the cashmere ones are, they can't endure the New York winter too successfully❄ Mackie was right, our apartment needs some dude-sized blankets. But for now, the snuggles will have to work.

_______________()______________

This drabble was conceived because of a picture of Chris Evans in the beautiful chestnut sweater 😂 And this old Marie-Claire Interview

Seriously though, I was actually trying to write a funny one-liner post because I saw the newly surfaced knives out pics and Chris looks so Handsome in the maroon sweater😍. But it just kept getting bigger and turned into this thing😅. I am seriously insecure about my writing skills, so thought of keeping it to myself. But then I decided to post it because some parts of the Sebastian Stan Fandom are in desperate need of positivity 💚

I also scrolled through the 'Chris Evans Thesaurus' (that's what I call his twitter account 😄)for half an hour looking for his trademark words just so I could make this Journal-Entry sound like it's coming from him! (I love wasting my time on the little details!)😏

And if you haven't figured it out yet, I am leaning towards Mackie's side in the Stackie-Couch-debate😂

[tintentrinkerin]

Harness & Spears

Chapter 5: Father’s Eyes

missed a chapter? Check out my Masterlist or AO3

Researching for a case a year after they quit first feels weird to Sam, he has to get used to all the programs, his usual agenda. Today it’s so much easier with some computer skills. No more libraries, no more grainy scans of articles in local papers. Today, you just have to open a search engine app on your phone or a computer and you will be able to find dozens of cases in an hour or two. Of course, there’s still the work of sorting the wheat from the chaff, but Jack is a big help. They sit in the library together and go search for cases. Cas is really sweet to them, just like a butler he offers hot beverages and sandwiches, even though Sam must really hold him back to go full on “Yes, sir”. They want a case, and there are hundreds of them, but also, after Jack became God he brought all the hunters back that Chuck had banished. Donna and Jody, a couple now, as they announced just months after Jack’s ascend, and her girls, all in the hunter business. They heard from Eileen sporadically, but after all that happened and how uneasy Sam felt about the whole manipulation (and he was absolutely certain Chuck pulled the strings there, even though, when they originally met, Sam was drawn to her - but nothing more), she kept her distance and operated in Ireland and also all over Europe. The hunters from the other universe also just hunted in small groups. Charlie and her girlfriend retired for good. And Sam was still bitter about his own behaviour - projecting ‘his’ Charlie on this woman, who was so much different. He knew she hacked some computers every now and then to prank some potential Dicks. Sam was connected to the hunters, most of them. He has been clear about him and Dean, Cas (and later Jack) not going hunting anymore. But now things changed and Sam needed to check if any other hunters were on the cases him and Jack might find interesting. Running in another couple of hunting buddies is not a problem on a personal level, but the mutual sabotage will happen. It’s Murphy’s Law. That’s why Sam has a plan. They will take cases other hunters wouldn’t like to do. There are several reasons for hunting in the first place and reasons which cases to pursue and which not. Let noble monster hunting and cleansing the world be some hunter’s motivation, revenge, the thrill (some people really were that sick and hunted monsters for the kicks) and of course. The money. Oh yes, the money. But the Winchester conglomerate doesn’t worry about money, that’s why Sam won’t look for cases that have to do with wealthy people or towns announcing rewards. Also, when he knew the kind of monster and that a lot of hunters were after these creatures for killing their kin or loved ones, he better didn’t interfere. You could hunt monsters for their venom or psychic abilities, their blessings or whatever. Something a friend of Dean did not so long ago and got himself killed for it.

It shouldn’t be anything exotic, the New Age brought new monsters, at least that’s what Jack says.

“I was God, yes, and I knew everything that Chuck knew, but believe it or not, not even Chuck knew all of his creatures. His mind is packed with the stuff he wanted to do or not to do - if you ask me he was a little like George R. R. Martin. Got lost in his own massive universe and all the detail. I tried to give all of it structure, that’s why some things on Earth changed, but after some time I thought my head would explode and I uh, outsourced some good stuff in new universes. Amara is way better in doing all of that, she created way more universes and new forms of life as I did. She and her brother - don’t get me started.”

Jack looks exhausted. “Does it sound weird, Sam? That I wanted to be down here with you, all of you, but especially you, and give Amara all that power?”

Sam smiles about Jack’s outbreak and that he obviously read Game of Thrones. “No, it’s not weird. You were with Amara and I bet she’s very pleasant company but she wasn’t what you longed for. You didn’t want to be God who’s in every drop of rain, and all that. It was noble and pure hearted and generous of you to try, but you were allowed to fail. But, speaking of Game of Thrones, I have a few questions regarding--”

Sam is rudely interrupted in his chatter with Jack when Dean comes into the library and sits down two chairs away from Jack. Jack immediately gets up.

“Uh, Sam, I will -errm, go pack my bags. I think you will find a good case.”

Sam sighs.

“I’ll be with you soon, baby. Just gimme a minute.”

Jack is quick as a flash and out of sight within seconds.

Dean scoffs while thudding his mug on the table. Coffee pours out and stains the wood.

“Easy on the furniture Dean, it’s not your enemy”, Sam says without looking up. He can’t show Dean his face right now or he will just erupt. He feels the heat in his cheeks and a hot tickle up his neck. Since Dean threw a mug after Sam yesterday they haven’t seen each other and to be frank, Sam could totally renounce any other encounter with Dean for a while. Plus, Sam has a hickey, because Jack went a little passionate, clingy and possessive last night, for whatever reason.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you and… baby. ” The last word is like venom. As always. Dean wants to start another fight.

“I remember that I heard you calling Cas ‘daddy’ multiple times. You think that was really soothing for my wild imagination?”

“You call Jack what he is. A baby.”

“Another word, Dean, and you know I’ll knock you out. I have enough of your bullshit. You act like a jealous housewife. No, wait, more like a cuck!”

Dean scoffs and leaves.

“Do whatever you want, but don’t do it when I’m around or I’ll tear him apart.”

Sam sits here in shock. He has heard a lot from Dean about Jack, he has always been nasty to him and yes, even threatened to kill him twice, even was willing to execute him as part of Chuck’s evil plan. Yes, he was bitter about Mary and hell, how bitter Dean has been as Jack brought so many people back. All the ‘others’: Bobby and Charlie with her girlfriend. All these people. He brought Eileen back, and Dean thought it was to make Sam happy (and yes, that has been Jack’s intention, but ultimately it didn’t) and he was resistant to the arguments, that Mary was happy with John, she didn’t want to go back in this world she never felt like she fit in. He couldn’t be comforted by the messages Jack as a medium brought to Dean, that Mary loved him no matter what and that she will be happy when they meet again. Nothing could’ve soothed Dean’s aching. Sam understands that he’s hurt, but now, it just feels like Dean is angry at Jack for simply existing and then being so bold to love Sam.

Jack brought Cas back for Dean. He had risked a feud with the Empty that could only be avoided by Amara and Jack forcefully put the Regent of the Empty asleep. The Empty wasn’t sealed though, Rowena still reigned in hell, and still demons went to the Empty. But there are no angels on Earth anymore, Jack has naphil powers and even Cas regained some faint strength back, but Jack didn’t make new angels.

Jack really built a world in which it was possible for Dean and Cas to be together, he risked being invaded and maybe killed, since no one knows how really powerful the Empty was.

Why is nothing Jack does, no matter how universe shattering, unbelievably cosmic and holy and insane it is, not finally letting Dean the old grudge go?

It seems like everything he does just makes it worse.

Sam hides his face and in the safety of his own palms he allows to cry in fear for his own spiteful brother and soulmate. This will end badly if they don’t find a way to reconcile.

“You have to stop that, Dean” Cas says when Dean is back in the Deancave.

Cas is in his robe, nothing beneath. He looks pale and a little skinny. The last weeks have been hard on him and Dean knows it’s his fault. He makes his angel boyfriend sick. And yet he’s sick himself, and he’s kicking and fighting, with talons and teeth, words and throwing things after his brother. Also, he erupts the second Cas dares to mention it.

“Stop with what?”, he asks.

He picks the remote and wants to turn on the TV, loud metal music blasting but with a snap of a finger, the TV silent and it won’t turn back on.

“Castiel. Don’t fuck with me, I swear, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re ‘not in the mood’ for weeks, maybe months. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t you let me help?”

Dean’s eyes narrow dangerously as he faces the seraph.

“Help? How could you help? My brother fucks a toddler.”

Cas sighs and it sounds so endlessly sad. Defeated. Dean doesn’t want to see it, acknowledge it, that he is indeed very wrong. Jack is no toddler, Jack is no brat, Jack is so mighty he could really smite the whole bunker with a hiccup still, even though he’s not God anymore. Dean should be so damn careful. Dean should see how much Jack begs for his forgiveness and his approval.

But Dean can’t. And Dean won’t.

“Dean.”

Dean is so full of sorrow and fear, it hurts to hear his own name so gentle, so loving yet somehow fatherly. Cas loves him and Dean should be happy. He has been happy. The Empty had taken him away and Jack had fought to get him back. So they could be a family.

But this isn’t family to Dean. He’s around the person he loves the most, the person he loves with a burning, blinding insanity. He will never be happy like this.

Cas dares to come closer, around two steps away, offers Dean a hand. Dean can’t even look at him but he takes Cas’s hand and then pulls him in a desperate embrace.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, Cas. I don’t want to fight with you.”

It’s been a while, actually the last time Dean slept with Cas was the night when Jack asked him if Sam gay. This question is carved under his skin and if you look closely, you can see them shine through like thin red scars.

The streak won’t break today either.

“Will he ever stop hating me?”, Jack asks.

He has his suitcase packed, same as a backpack with snacks, water, headphones, his teddy Marvelous Marvin, a powerbank and, something he’s very proud of - his own angel blade. The only angels on earth are Jack and Castiel but the blade kills monsters just as well. He kneads the bundle of the purple blanket in his lap when he looks up to Sam.

Sam’s still tense from before, his eyes red and narrow, Sam must look like he didn’t sleep much or has been on a bender.

“I don’t know… I wish I knew what’s wrong with him.”

With a deep sigh Sam sinks beside Jack on the mattress. The bed creaks and a spring nudges in Sam’s butt cheek. Either they need a new mattress or they move in a room together, but Sam doesn’t dare to talk about these things yet. So far, he’s happy about the privacy. But he’s also constantly longing for Jack - a stalemate.

Jack leans against Sam’s shoulder and shyly feels for Sam’s hand. Sam is too glad to take it, intertwine their fingers and kiss Jack’s knuckles.

“It makes me sick, Sam. I’m afraid all the time he’s around. I’m afraid he might want to…”

“Hurt you?”

Jack nods, his lips a thin line.

“I won’t let him. And most of all, you won’t let him. Right?”

Another silent nod.

“Don’t worry about it now, our bags are packed and I found a case. I told you about the parameters I used to find a case no one else would investigate, and this one here is especially weird, but not weird enough for us to follow, and a bit boring, but not boring enough for us to NOT follow it. We’ve been to haunted houses before, right?”

“Yes, it’s mostly vengeful spirits or poltergeists, right?”

Sam nods. “Yes, exactly. Sometimes triggered by the plans of tearing the house down, the same can happen with big bodies of water, when they are threatened to be dried out, spirits of people who drowned will start going on a rampage. Haunted houses are like level 1 of every hunter. Rocksalt, shotgun, holy water, fire. Boom, ghost gone.”

Jack frowns a little. “Really, we’re going on a case that any newbie hunter could solve?”

Sam chuckles.

“Yep.”

It’s absolutely a thinly veiled reason to go on a hunt, but it’s the same that Dean and Cas did weeks ago when Jack sneaked out. In the end they also ‘just’ took on a vampire nest with five vamps and their Creator and the rest of the time they had a blast in Vegas, why should Sam not do the same? He wants to be alone with Jack, because Dean definitely ruined the pleasant experience of the tantra massage. Sam had been so happy back then and oh, crap, he was close to do more to Jack than just the massage. He wouldn’t have slept with him on this massage table, that was utterly uncomfortable, but he had been turned on so bad, that didn’t happen very often.

Sam really falls for Jack deeply and seriously. It’s a wonderful and frightening feeling at the same time.

Jack slides on Sam’s lap and straddles him, arms tight around his neck. Jack squints a little when he’s so close, his big blue eyes will never cease to amaze Sam.

“How can you not be Castiel’s son?”, Sam blurts, his hands cupping the naphil’s face and brushing away some strands of hair.

Jack’s mouth opens slightly, his tongue sneaks out to lick his upper lip.

“I am Castiel’s son.”

“I know, I just mean, genetically. You have his eyes. Does that sound stupid, baby?”

Jack shakes his head with a grin, his neck and face turn tenderly pink.

How did the biggest monster of all create this perfect boy?

“No, not stupid. I like the way you look at me”, Jack silently admits and the blush turns berry red.

“How do I look at you?”

Sam kisses Jack’s parted lips, feels the hitched breath and how Jack tightens up his back.

“First you looked at me with fear, when I was born. Then you looked at me in sympathy, in worry… Then gentle, loving. Just now, longing… You see a man, not a child, right? That’s the look in your face how you look at someone beautiful you want to be with…?”

Sam’s big hands creep under Jack’s pullover and Jack sighs, a light shudder down his spine and this tiny, quiet noise of content.

“You are beautiful, and yes, I want to be with you. All the time”, Sam whispers, he sounds rough, feels like he needs to clear his throat.

Jack lays his hands on Sam’s and guides him down his sweatpants. Sam squeezes. A slight gasp.

“We will have a lot of time for fun stuff once we’re out of here.”

That makes Jack jerk up, jump and drag Sam on his feet.

“Come, Sam! I can’t wait to be out of here.”

[stormech]

So, I did an ask meme I found. For context, this is geared towards Yugioh kin, and I’m a fictive but the questions are applicable and I wanted to answer them. I guess this is also my way of reaching out to the community, if there are any people like me I haven’t met yet, because I like meeting new people.

1. Are you canon divergent? If so, how?

Not really divergent, more like extended. It’s been almost 4 years since canon for me, so I’m 20 now. Things certainly kept going after what you see in the show ended. The Ignis were all revived and there was a second war… I’ll talk about it to people who want to hear it.

2. Do you still play the game today? Are you any good? Do you still use your original deck?

Yes! I don’t duel in canon but I use the deck I remember using, Thunder Dragons.

3. Is there anything in particular you remember that wasn’t shown in source that you feel is important?

The Ignis Revival project, and the reveal that in my canon at least, Genome was behind coding Lightning’s behavior. Revolver, who analyzed the code, described it as being “like being born with PTSD”. Genome wanted to create an AI weapon and he was hoping that Lightning would kill me and the others off so that he could get away with no survivors that knew about it. I also wish people knew that Lightning has been making amends after the war and has settled down very peacefully and is working to leave his trauma behind him. I, for my part, have forgiven him completely. I know that’s not the narrative a lot of people hoped to hear but that’s what happened to me and that’s how I feel about it.

4. What’s something mundane that’s funny now?

I can’t think of much because I’ve had so little life experience and so little of it was funny, but my favorite little memory was when I first met Lightning and I asked him if he was a fairy.

5. Did you have friends or enemies? If so, who are they? Are you in contact with any of them today?

I consider Yuusaku my best friend, and we’re in contact today. Revolver, Takeru, Aoi, and Spectre too… and Baira, who I’ve definitely adopted as an older sister. And my brother, of course! And Lightning, the light of my life (quite literally). I’m very blessed to be in contact with everyone, whether they’re in my system or another. As for enemies, the Genome from my canon can rot in hell and I’m glad we’re not in contact.

6. If you’re comfortable sharing, is there anything traumatic or heavily negative that you went through that you still struggle thinking about?

The Genome stuff mentioned above. I don’t really remember the Lost Incident at all, since Lightning took those memories away in canon, but I still struggle with the “You Lose” screens in games like Duel Links.

7. Did you have a favorite Duel Monster? If so, which?

Thunder Dragon Thunderstormech was my ace, so it’s very special to me! Paladin of Storm Dragon is also important to me and I make sure to keep it in my deck.

8. How do you feel about doubles? What would you do if you met one?

I have met one! We haven’t talked much, but I regard him with fondness and am happy to see him around. I find the concept of doubles fascinating, so I’m totally fine with doubles of me or my friends.

9. If you’re from a world that didn’t have one of the later forms of dueling (ex. Rush Duels) what’s your opinion on them now?

I know the rules, even though none of us have seen Sevens. It sounds interesting and I think I’d try it if given the chance! Also, we didn’t have Pendulum in my world, so that’s super cool too!

10. Do you have any regrets? If you could go back is there one thing you would do or change? If so what would it be?

I think… I would find Lightning right after the revival — or maybe at the beginning of the second war so I could explain the misunderstanding — and talk to him and open up to him and… I don’t know. I had so little control for most of my life, it’s hard to think of where I could have done something different. But maybe if I had shown him my love sooner, things would have turned out better for him sooner, too.