#yes I do subscribe to my own fics

[adara-writer]

Ao3 is moving really slowly today for some reason, but I just wanted to say that chapter 7 of silver shackles is posted! I can make a better post later, but I posted it an hour ago and it doesn’t look like the subscriber emails have been sent out yet

[hannieehaee]

raindrops (an angel cried) (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being assigned watching duties over humans was usually a task reserved for high level angels. on jeonghan's first week of promotion, he finds himself far too curious about licentious human activities, becoming infatuated with his assigned human. what happens when his interest goes too far, it gets him kicked out of heaven?

content: fallenangel!jeonghan, jeonghan is your guardian angel up until he gets kicked out of heaven oops, infatuation, inexperienced jeonghan, even as an angel he's still a menace to all, heaven is super strict, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of masturbation, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 936 (teaser); 11.1k (full fic)

release date: may 17th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: angel!jeonghan was a must so here it is

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Who is that?", asked Jeonghan, apprehension in his eyes.

"That's your human."

"My human? I'm getting a promotion?"

"Listen, Jeonghan. I had to call in a lot of favors to get the higher ups to let you get this promotion. You better follow the rules to the letter. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Kwannie, I know," he rolled his eyes, "Why do you have so little trust in me?"

"I'm serious, Jeonghan. If you keep messing up, you might get kicked out of heaven. Do you really want to be down there with the humans? Being a mortal?"

Jeonghan couldn't help but think the idea sounded enticing.

He hadn't had too much exposure to humans thus far, but he had always had great interest in them. They just sounded so free and different from one another, unlike in heaven, where specific behavior was to be expected from every working angel.

Within heaven, you were either born as an elite sort of angel, – with all their angelic duties assigned – or you were born human and then admitted into heaven as an angel, getting to enjoy eternal happiness with your loved ones. Jeonghan, sadly, was the former. Having been born into an angel position, it meant that although his life was not miserable by any means, it was just a closed box of responsibilities to fulfill until the end of eternity. He truly envied all the humans-turned-angels in heaven, often asking them about their memories as humans and trying to live vicariously through them.

Due to his constant curiosity of humans, Jeonghan often got in trouble as he stuck his nose in places it shouldn't be. As an angelic being, Jeonghan's duties as an angel were mostly clerical, managing which human each angel would be assigned to as a guardian angel. Ever since being born as an angelic entity, Jeonghan's dream had been to be promoted into a guardian angel position. In his current job, the most interaction with humans he ever got was the ability to see a quick overview of their timelines in order to assess which guardian angel would be the best fit for them. His job was comfortable and stable, never causing him any trouble. But he wanted more. He wanted to be down there, on the playing field as he watched over his own human.

So he would cheat occasionally, maybe snooping into human's lives for more than he was allowed to. Sometimes he'd pause on certain bits that drew a little curiosity and simply observe. He'd also on occasion tried to make his way down to Earth, only to check things out on his own. All his attempts were always met with reprimands from his higher ups, claiming that a soul as curious as his own should not be near humans. The existence of angels was meant to stay a myth, after all.

When Seungkwan took him into one of the offices designated for guardian angels, Jeonghan had been shocked. He had been banned from being brought here a few years back, so it was a very well appreciated change of pace for him. What was even more shocking, however, was when Seungkwan led him into one of the sphere rooms, which contained a view of any and every human in existence in real time. The most shocking thing, though? The pretty girl reflecting on the globe, very deep in slumber as Seungkwan revealed Jeonghan's promotion.

"Her old guardian angel retired. Chose to move to the land of humans-turned-angels. Angel Jihoon was simply going to ask you to assign her a new angel, but I put in a good word for you, so he gave you the job. Don't fuck it up, Jeonghan. Do you understand?", his friend was quite stern as he warned him.

"Big words for an angel."

"Don't go puritanical on me, Jeonghan. Your behavior in Heaven doesn't matter. It's when you meddle with humans that you'll get in trouble. Just ... Please follow the rules and don't step out of line."

Seungkwan was right. From all the accounts he heard from angels who had died and gone to heaven, Heaven and Earth were quite similar. People held jobs, lived a day to day life, had relationships. There were a few stark differences, though. There was no suffering in Heaven – no illness, no tiredness, no debilitating feelings. Sure, frustration and annoyance were a thing (God knew Jeonghan had felt those things), but it was virtually impossible to be truly unhappy in Heaven.

Jeonghan had no problem with Heaven, he was just far too curious about humans to stay still and do nothing. He was not allowed to admit it, but he had always wanted to know what it'd be like to be human. To live through pain, struggle, confusion. He just wanted to experience it all.

Angels had no needs in heaven. Hunger didn't exist, neither did aging or an itch to do or feel things humans usually engaged in. For instance, while Jeonghan had heard of sex and romantic relationships, this was something that angels did not have the innate desire to feel, as they were born fulfilled in every sense. Human-born angels, however, brought their humanly experiences and emotions along with them to heaven, sometimes telling tales of such things, always drawing Jeonghan's curiosity to new heights.

Looking at you through the sphere, Jeonghan felt excitement at thinking of what humanly emotions you may be feeling. He also felt giddy at knowing that you would one day come to pass onto his heavenly realm, where he would meet you after having known you for the entirety of your lifetime.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: comment if u'd like to be tagged when it comes out<3 i wont respond to comments but if u reply ill tag u<3

[bluegiragi]

I hate to ask this cause it feels stupid but I dont wanna do a bunch of research on whatever the recent cod mw fandom discourse is,

but I saw the reblog of someone accusing you of supporting people who write sexualized pedophilia and that really is personally my only """"moral"""" with nsfw shit, (I'm a patreon subscriber and ig I just wanna know where my money's going) is THAT true?

i used to follow an artist who, 5-6 months ago made racist art featuring gaz and soap in a slave context, which I didn't like, retweet or interact with in any way. they also made under-age art of ghost soap, which I also didn't interact with . people on twitter called me out yesterday, for retweeting (months before this incident) other art they'd made as evidence I stood by/encouraged/was an avid fan of all these tropes. The art I retweeted wasn't either of these previous examples of art, but one where ghost and soap were sleeping in a bed together, as adults, peacefully. I can't emphasise enough that I have not interacted with this artist at all, for over six months. The callout in question has framed me as a close friend of theirs when, in truth, our total timeline of interactions could probably be counted on one hand, and I haven't interacted with her in so long that I genuinely forgot I was still following her.

The crux of all is this is that I did not unfollow + block this artist earlier on when the racist art was posted months ago, and then I retweeted a fic tagged with "non-con" (ghost gets soap off in a context where he can't really properly consent, they're in front of a crowd of strangers and they have to fuck, but both parties are into each other) written by a friend as I wanted to support their writing.

The pedophile claims are because I retweeted a fandom bingo post that defended loli-con without reading all the squares properly, and then immediately un-retweeted it when I properly read it. All in all, the post was on my account for maybe a few minutes.

The zoophile claims are because people say i support someone who wrote zoophilic fic and called people slurs, and I genuinely don't know who they're talking about there.

The anti-asian racism claims come from the original accusers in the callout thread thinking that I made Horangi's eyes in the monster!AU sensitive as a way of making fun of Asian eyes. The real reason is because he's a cat hybrid in that AU and cats are sensitive to light.

I tried addressing all this in a casual way earlier on in a misguided attempt to sort things out more 'civilly', and responded to an ask talking about my "support" for the artist who drew the slave Gaz art by saying the fanart in question was tone deaf and in poor taste. It wasn't enough for some people, so I'm happy to say it clearly- yes, it was racist, and the reason why I didn't want to be more aggressive is because I didn't want to extend all this mess by throwing this artist directly to the wolves - I genuinely believed them at the time when they said that wasn't that their intention, and think they should've deleted the post at the time, but not unfollowing was a decision that I made. I know now upon reflection that it was naive of me, unwarranted and frankly irresponsible to take a stranger at face value and believe they had good intentions, when the act of not deleting the post in question was evidence of a lack in remorse. In the moment, I'd thought back to my own personal experience with a friend of mine who used an asian slur in my company, who later sincerely apologised and legitimately cleaned up his act after I gave him a second chance. It informed my choice to not unfollow at the time, but there's a difference between someone you know irl for months and a stranger on the internet you've interacted with a few times. I shouldn't have coddled them in my response, and I'm sorry for not treating it with the severity it deserved. It was callous, and stupid, and indicative of internal biases that I ever thought it was a light enough offence to "see through", and I deeply deeply apologise. I promise from the bottom of my heart to do better.

That's everything so far. I didn't unfollow an artist when I absolutely should've, which i'll always strongly regret. I also retweeted a properly-tagged fic on my clearly 18+ nsfw account. I've undone both of those actions now. I hope this can be the end of it.

[atiyasnake]

I would give you my first born child and a lollipop to continue your Danny doing it for the bit then getting emotionally attached to the Batman 🙏. That aside I fucking love your writing please don’t die 🩷

Alright, so this effectively made me go back to that @tourettesdog prompt post and then I finished writing the additional parts that I had and decided to go ahead and post that on ao3.

Will this have more...I have a feeling yes...when: no idea. But its in my head floating around as this fics and ideas do. Either way its on my ao3 now so feel free to subscribe when I get to add more. Also checkout the og post to see what other people have written for it too :p

[clockwaysadmin]

The Fic That I'm Not Writing Update Subscription Post

(The title is, obviously, a joke. I am writing this. Just not letting it stress me! It will get a real title when it goes up on Ao3.)

Ship: Dead on Main, Danny Fenton/Jason Todd CW: (updating as the series continues) Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Minor Injuries

Someone moved into the apartment below Jason's- an apartment that wasn't for rent. Turns out that Danny is is an absolute disaster with the self-preservation skills of a wet paper bag. He's also adorable. Jason takes it on himself to look out for Danny- both as himself and as Red Hood. What Jason could never have expected was for Danny to have plans of his own- plans that involve dating both of Jason's personas. The Goons™️think this is amazing. Good on the Boss and the Boss's boy toy for getting a twink!

All parts are being posted here on Tumblr in their first draft version. This fic is being posted out of order as inspiration strikes. There will be an update given when it goes live on Ao3.

All things related to this fic can be found in the 'the fic that I'm not writing' tag on @clockwayswrites. Major links are below.

Timeline- subject to change and my whims:

I'm (not) writing this hella out of order, as scenes and polls want to be written (the bastards)

Jason discovers Danny

Accidental Sugar Daddying Start

Shopping Montage

Something something something

A fool tries to mug Danny

Self Defense Lessons (Danny realized Jason is Red Hood)

Jason meets feral!Danny

Jason and Danny post RH meeting

The Midterm Zombie

Thirst Trap Lessons

Danny propositions Hood

Jason is Confused™️

Dick meets Danny (snippet)

Goons confront Hood

Hood tells Danny to ask Jason and then panics

Jason says yes

idk some cute relationship shit

Paulina Visits Gotham

Put a Leash on it (it being Danny)

Block Party

Jason whines to Dick

Tim meets Danny

More Bats meet Danny

(will this be the fic I'll finally need to label over T?)

you'll learn more as I don't write

maybe

if I were writing it

Narrator voice: stuff happens

Danny is not a morning person

My writing is better than this list. Of course, I'm clearly not writing this.

How to Subscribe:

Website: click on the ... in the upper right and 'Subscribe to Conversation' App: click on 'notes' in the bottom left then the bell icon in the upper right

(For those very few with ability to comment on this post, DO NOT.)

[flowermiist]

A warm heart - Prologue

Click here to read new chapters... ♡

Pairing: John Price x Fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Some time ago, you started a cooking channel on YouTube as a way to relax, have a proper hobby and teach others your favorite recipes as you improved your own culinary skills too. Fame wasn’t something you wanted, you were more than happy with your 50k subscribers... Yet you never thought you’d stumble upon one of them.

Word count: 1.k

A/N: So I’m really excited since this is my very first fic... I still haven’t planned it much but I’m already working on the first chapter as I post this!! If you have any suggestions or comments please leave them below. Comments and reblogs are always so welcome and appreciated.

John had gotten back from base two days ago, he had spent nearly three months stuck in Egypt with some CIA members and his SAS team. Time there went slow, it felt like it would never end, most intel they could gather was messy but the missions were successful.

Sitting on his couch and with his already third glass of scotch, John knew his stomach wouldn’t actually settle for alcohol and a cigar – It was too late to go out, most places would already be closed by now ��� except for some street food carts and dingy local pubs. So now, both his exhaustion of having spent his whole day locked away in his office finishing reports and filling out documents was mixing with his empty stomach and possible upcoming migraines making him way too irritable and tired to even attempt going out and getting something – Not like he was even in the mood to do so.

If this moment had been one of the irritated man’s childhood caricatures, a lightbulb would have gone on above his head as he remembered the few basics he had gotten from the grocery store in the middle of the road on his way home while getting back home from base. The captain let out a deep grunt as he got up from the couch, grabbing the empty glass of scotch and the TV remote to turn it off and walk to his kitchen.

Opening his pantry, he only saw the basics, some canned tomato sauce and a single bag of spaghetti. John sighed as he grabbed those two ingredients and hopes that it would at least taste decent enough not to make his headache worse. Internally cursing himself for not getting more things from the store – not being home for too long did limit a lot of his comfort and meal options when it came to getting back after a long time, buying food that would expire too soon before going to work would only mess up his pantry and fridge.

When it came to cooking, he wasn’t exactly an expert. Yes, he could defend his culinary skills by making a good English breakfast and a cup of tea but besides that? Yeah, no. Yet for some reason, John didn’t want to admit the fact that he had grown too accustomed to the meals he’d get at base or the pickup he’d order whenever he was home. Almost embarrassing that an officer specialized in unconventional warfare or any kind of missions would find it more difficult to cook for himself than to deploy to the most dangerous and broken places on earth.

Luck had jumped out of his window and the spaghetti ended up tasting horrible to say the least – Was it the sauce? Was it expired? Or did John just get horrible at cooking at this point? Too tired to care, the gruff man washed the dishes and went to sleep. This culinary war wasn’t over.

The following morning was busy, the captain went out for a morning jog then continued finishing up the last reports. His house had been too quiet for his own liking because when a man like John Price has gotten too used to the chaos and noise of all the places he deploys to and filled with all kinds of people, being in his own house feels almost surreal. Almost like he doesn’t belong here, like all he can handle are the noises that will not leave him alone with his thoughts eating him alive.

His own perseverance and stubbornness did not allow him to give up when it came to cooking, he was a grown man for crying out loud! No goddamn way he could be able to handle all the things he sees in his line of work but couldn’t handle himself in the kitchen – he thought.

Closing the other tabs on his laptop, he entered YouTube. After searching for basic recipes to challenge himself, he came upon certain channel – “Y/N’s kitchen diaries.”

Not even ten minutes later, he was already taking notes and focusing on every single detail.

John had prepared one of the recipes for dinner after yet another visit to the grocerie store, a less rushed one this time and somewhere that wasn’t in the middle of an isolated road. Meticulously following every single step shown by the woman in the videos – he liked her voice, it wasn’t like one of those annoying cooking shows from TV that would be filled with ads for kitchen tools and nonsense chatter, it even felt as if he had some company with the video – “Here we have our final result.” She spoke softly as she was showing the results, John looked at her video then back at his plate – It looked and smelled good. “As you can see the chicken is juicy and the smoked paprika gives it that extra flavor. Now our broccoli has that chewy yet soft texture, I personally sprinkle some salt on top of it but that is up to your liking.” A small pause before she spoke again, by then, John was already placing the plate on the dining table before grabbing his phone as the young woman spoke the final lines of the video. “Thank you for watching – don’t forget to comment down below if you have any suggestions or any recipes you’d like me to try. Bye Bye!” – The video ended and John had a small smirk on his face, both proud of himself and amused by how well this went. He clicked on the “subscribe” button and left his phone on top of the counter, walking towards the dining table and taking a seat.

The moment you got home, you kicked off your high heels, grunting from the relief as you stomped on the floor a few times – getting that relief of your feet getting accustomed to flat ground again. Putting your purse aside, you make your way towards the kitchen where you open the fridge and take some leftovers from yesterday and place the plate in the microwave – this gives you some time to rush to your bedroom and get your laptop to continue editing one of your videos, a new lasagna recipe you had been improving and recorded a video of.

While making your way out of your bedroom, you hear the little musical alarm of the microwave going off. You wanted to record a little something to start with the next video; yet you knew you didn’t have the enough ingredients to do so and neither did you have the energy to edit and record at the same time, not tonight at least – “Will do it tomorrow…” you mumble to yourself as you open your laptop and set your plate on top of the coffee table of your living room. – “Thereee we go...” you almost moan the moment your body falls down onto the couch, finally getting some rest.

You took some time to check your channel, seeing if there was anything interesting – YouTube was the only platform you uploaded your cooking videos to as you didn’t see it as a big deal but rather a hobby you enjoyed and relaxed with, the rest of your social media was pretty much private and not about your recipes or small food vlogs. Learning how to edit videos by yourself hadn’t been an easy task – but to you, it was worth it as it helped you clear your mind and not seem too crazy while talking to yourself in front of a camera. Before starting to make videos, you talked to yourself while doing tasks, eventually it just came into your mind – Why the hell not? You wouldn’t seem too crazy if you talked to a camera and recorded things for yourself, right? It was a good reason to talk to yourself, not an excuse. Starting your channel had been a rather spontaneous decision you took two years ago with the difference that nowadays, you are more frequent with your content than you were back then.

Sighing in relief, you turn off your laptop since you had finally finished the last details of the video. You were already stripping off your clothes on your way to the bedroom, not caring about tonight’s shower but rather tonight’s rest, you’d do everything tomorrow.

[toxic3mmy]

I’m having a bad case of baby fever since I’m ovulating hard and I need fic of quackity with gf who’s ovulating like crazy and who’s begging for a baby

ooo baby fever!!! the only person in the world that i would ever want a baby w is alex😞😞 but yes, i got u my lovely <33 thx for the request

[also it cane out a bit diff than what u asked for im sorryyyy!! dont hate me bbg💔💔]

prompt: alex dealing with a baby fever filled gf

no smut but mentions of it ofc!!

everywhere you look, there’s babies. on tv commercials, at your job, even at the grocery store there’s always a baby who won’t stop smiling and cooing your way.

and who would make a cute baby? alex, your boyfriend, that’s who!

he has sparkling honey brown eyes with dark lashes framing them perfectly. his fair skin that has freckles and beautiful face moles. and his hair! he has a full head of hair that would look absolutely perfect on a sweet little baby.

lately, on your free time, you were indulging in this want and need and desire for a baby of your own. you were sneakily watching mommy and baby vlogs. you loved seeing their belly grow and their journey through their pregnancy. you even subscribed yourself to a baby magazine and it was what you looked forward to every time you checked your mail.

but you hid all of this from alex. you knew he probably wouldn’t understand. just how most men don’t understand why women obsessed over weddings and wedding planning. it also didn’t help that you were definitely ovulating.

and right now, you were sat listening to your boyfriend going on about his day. well, not really listening. more like admiring him and imagining him as a father and wow did that turn you on.

“what about you? how was your day?” alex asked suddenly

“oh, you know, i mostly just did my online coursework and cleaned the house a bit. i’ve been bored since you went out..” you said, trying to be inconspicuous

“trust me, i missed you too. now let’s eat. the food you made smells amazing” alex said, getting up to serve himself a plate

he served two plates of food, one for you and one for him. the two of you ate in mostly silence, with casual conversation here and there. once you finished eating, alex offered to wash the dishes since you did the cooking.

you sneakily pulled out your phone and scrolled through your pinterest. of course, you had baby related posts all over your feed and you loved it.

“babe.. this sponge sucks. where are the new ones we got the other day?” your boyfriend asked

“should be in the drawer next to the stove” you absentmindedly responded, eyes glued to your phone

alex opened the drawer and found your stash of baby magazines. he wasn’t blind, he knew what you had been obsessing over lately. this was the perfect time to bring it up. so he grabbed a sponge and washed the dishes. after drying his hands, he turned to face you.

“so… you’ve only been studying all day huh?” alex smirked, holding up one of your prized magazines

your eyes widened. you were at a loss for words.

“i-i uh… my sister is pregnant and um she sent me those to help her pick stuff out and—”

“hmm, addressed to our home to ms. y/n” alex interrupted

“do you think i don’t know by now? i see the way you’ve been looking at anything baby related online. i know you always volunteer to do the grocery shopping just for the chance of running into some mother with a baby… my question here is, why hide it?”

“i didn’t think you’d understand… i know how guys get when their girlfriends start talking about babies and i don’t know. i didn’t want to upset you. i didn’t want to make things weird between us..” you explained softly, expecting alex to get upset

he walked closer to where you were sitting and tucked your hair behind your ear gently.

“i could never be upset with you princesa. you don’t have to hide things like this from me. you know i love kids just as much as you do” he reassured you

you nodded sadly, still feeling a sense of guilt.

“why don’t we start trying?”

your eyes lit up and a huge grin was etched onto your face.

“you really mean it?” you asked and alex nodded with a smile on his face

“i would just adore having a little munchkin running around here. i think you’d be a spectacular mother y/n. i can just imagine them having your big ‘ol eyes and your pretty lips” he caressed your face sweetly

“and your gorgeous freckles… oh my god alex! we would have the most adorable baby in the whole wide world! do you actually want to start trying?”

“yes i do, princesa. we’re in a good place financially and also in a healthy place in our relationship. i wouldn’t want to have a baby with anyone else but you” he smiled

“you’re going to be such an amazing dad. you don’t know how much i’ve daydreamed about you holding our baby in your strong sexy arms. the way you would be super protective over them. i just know you’d have our baby on your chest at all times. you’re so innocent and precious and so so good with kids alex. you are definitely daddy material” you stood from your seat and reached out to hold his hand

“also.. i may or may not pay attention to your ovulation period…” he said seductively

“what?! why? you’re a weirdo!” you teased him

“no! i mean i pay attention to when you write those notes on our calendar! you freak” alex was red in the face and you couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered expression

while you were too busy laughing, he suddenly stood up and pushed you against the wall nearby, trapping you there.

“you’re probably really sensitive right now, aren’t you?” his voice came out in a darker tone

“m-maybe…”

“let me make love to you, princesa. quiero impregnarte ahora mismo. quiero que me sientes y que sientes que te hago la mama de mis hijos chula…” he said, making sure to kiss your neck while he spoke

all you could do was nod. his words alone made you so wet and needy for him already.

“i’ll make sure that after tonight, you’ll definitely become a mother” he smirked, dragging you to your shared bedroom

[bunnwich]

Say Bunnwhich, I'm kind curious...

What got ya to love Lil Lion Leona in the 1st place? :3

WHY DO I LIKE LEONA???

Sorry for the long yap as usual but, I feel like every once in a while ppl ask me this very question and I feel like I have been in twst hell for so long it’s like ancient history now. VGBHNJMK

TBH I very strongly disliked Leona's character when he came on screen when I first started to play twst. I found Chapter 2 to be very flat compared to Chapter 1 and I had very little sympathy for him and his backstory. To me, it was clear he was just the "hot, brooding character" archetype and I had no interest in him whatsoever.

HOWEVER, when I became more active in the fandom, my friend @comingyourlugubriousness and others began to ship my Yuu with him as a joke bc of my said dislike. And, yeah I begin to write lil scenarios where they’d interact and challenged myself to make a logical way he would even be interested in my Yuu in the first place? 

THAT GOT ME THINKING and I saw how he used to be characterized in fics and stuff and I really just didn't agree??? Even to this day, I feel like some ppl go in two extremes with him. 1.) Where they wash down his personality in order for him to fit in into this “prince charming role" OR 2.) They make him the worst bastard ever, which can lead into certian problematic connotations.

When I went to write my own fics I had watched all of his vignettes and understood better what his true personality is. The main story does not do much to make him likable to a general audience sometimes IMO. And so I became interested in how and why so many ppl interpret his character so wrong?? (My opinion ofc)

And so my journey began as prob one of the biggest Leona apologists ever.

To answer the question better I guess. What do I LIKE about him?

I like him bc in order to enjoy him you really have to read between the lines and do your own work as a fan to find the intriguing parts of him! It's just fun!

I actually find him very relatable, his burnout and seemingly ultra competitive but still “work smarter” not harder attitude is something I gel with and feels very realistic for someone his age.

YES, I think his design is nice but honestly it's the least interesting thing about him to me. I will always enjoy long hair on men that's no secret. According to some friends I "have a type” but eh.

I like that he uses his sorta rude and grumpy ruse to scare ppl off. I  personally subscribe to the idea that underneath all that sass he's just a lil cantankerous grandpa stuck in a  20 year old’s body, who likes to yap about chess and dead languages. 

He’s a nerd and likes books.

He's a true hater. 💚

I feel like he'd never judge your appearance, for eating too much or being lazy.

I feel like he's a caretaker and would always look out for you.

I think he'd be a good teacher and big brother and a lot of his more amiable qualities remind me of my own S/O who is so, so smart and charismatic and who I love very much! 

I say "I think/feel" on a lot of this bc TBH the headcanons I have made for him over my time in the fandom are probably 80% the reason I like him, yk?

SO, if I had to sum it up that probably why! I could say more but I’ll spare ya’ll. 💚💚💚

[shadesofecclescakes]

Are you a big fanfic reader? What have you read lately and what's been your favourite fic so far?

Oh mannnnnnnnn. Why don't you ask me to pick a favourite child while you're at it???

Just kidding. I don't have kids. But I assume having to pick a favourite would be hard if I did.

So, am I a big fanfic reader? YES. And what haven't I read lately? We are lucky enough to have so many talented writers in this fandom that it's possible to subscribe to numerous multi-chapter fics to the point where you're just constantly getting update emails. Which I do. It's great. It gives me something to do at work aside from, y'know, work.

*Me at work being smug about being paid to read porn* (Also I just wanted to look at this gif)

So what is currently on my endless update list? Coming up after the cut!

I am an absolute whore for human AU, so if you like that then you will probably like:

The Cure for a Broken Heart by @rofell

a medical student AU based in the Canadian medical system (I'm a Canadian so I was pretty excited about that). It manages to tackle the continued systemic discrimination of Indigenous people in our medical system (and in general), homophobia and the ensuing trauma from those things all while also being informative, funny, sweet, romantic and hot af. Like. It's so good.

Free by @maaikeatthefullmoon

This is another one with with a heavy topic that also does a great job of making sure to break it up with some excellent fluff, hurt/comfort and humorous moments. And it's handled with the sensitivity and thoughtfulness necessary to write something that takes place in a mental health ward and deals with some intense situations. Definitely make sure to read those author notes before diving in. They lay it out very thoroughly.

The Sincere Way by @tsyvia48

A martial arts AU. Crowley is a karate sensei and Aziraphale is his student. Slow burn that keeps you on the edge. The screams I have scrumt at my screen over this one. Plus you learn a lot about karate (but it never gets boring or over-explainey. Excellently balanced) which is pretty cool. Mostly light (there is some angst. This is the Good Omens fandom. I think we are all sad, wet chihuahuas at heart). Funny and sweet.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley

Plus One by @caedmonfaith

Astronaut AU. Aziraphale is an astronaut who meets his mission controller, Crowley, over the comms system when he finds himself in need of assistance.

Super cool concept and really well-done in my opinion. Like, I don't do any space or physics-related work (ok I straight-up failed math 9) but I find it entirely believable. And it's well-written which is the entire point. Cute, funny slow burn with an intriguing mystery happening in the background.

Aziraphale has family money but a shitty family (except for Muriel! Never Muriel!) and his shitty brother Gabriel is getting married to shitty Michael, an Earl's daughter.

Aziraphale's family disproves of his entire life pretty much and he has been lying to them about having a boyfriend. Now they are expecting him to bring said boyfriend to the wedding. His famous footballer friend sets him up with their mechanic, Crowley.

It starts as a slow-burn but becomes a hilarious, smutty romp that just gets more and more insane. The chapter titles alone have made me cackle out loud.

Some older human AUs I'm a huge fan of include Old Vines by @sevdrag. Crowley owns a vineyard and Aziraphale is a wine critic. It is so amazingly written. It makes me think of the author Joanna Harris (Chocolat, The Five Quarters of the Orange) because it's SO beautifully, vividly descriptive that I end up craaaaaving wine. So have a bottle on hand if you're giving this a read.

Also the love story in this. My god. I devoured it. The story and the (many bottles of) wine.

There is also Loosely Ballroom by marginalia_device and mortifyingideal. It's a Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing with the Stars in North America) AU and it is so. Fucking. Good.

But it comes with a disclaimer. It's unfinished and looks likely to stay that way. But honestly? Still worth it. It's nearly finished (I think) so you have most of the story. And it's just SO good. It's been a while since I read it but it was one of the first human AUs I read and what got me hooked on them.

If you're still with me...nice! Just know that was me holding back and that isn't my entire list by a long shot. If you want more recs, feel free to message me and also share your own!

I just finished Slow Show the actor AU by @mia-ugly and yes please.

Some serious angst, pining and hot hot smut.

There is another long-form multi-chapter actor au I loooved but I can't remember the name for the life of me. Just that the show they were on was basically good omens and that they swapped roles with great success (inspired by the whole Michael thinking Neil wanted him to play Crowley when he wanted Aziraphale thing).

Thanks for the ask! That was really fun!

[cloudluvrrr]

"...I'm like your mother" Dan Heng x reader

minilial - asked: "Dan Heng with lazy reader so he would always act like a nagging mother and often scold reader"

--

why r the ones w black hair and emo the most put together cahracters dude (and the ones i want)

anyways HERE YOU GO POOKIE 💞

-- in the afternoon - the cardigans

-

you two were and unlikely pair, the most lazy and clumsy person (you) and dan heng the quiet rational one on the express.

-when he sees you lazing (wtf i s that a word) around he'll wack you with paper and drag you along with him to organize the archives (yay)

"this isn't fair" you huffed organizing the information he'd given you form penacony. "just do it, you have nothing better to do" he replied reading a book on the floor. "well your reading a book!" you mocked looking over at him "because I finished all my work, what have you done besides play game on your phone?" he said looking up at you. ".." with nothing to say you returned to your work, mocking him and grumbling under your breath.

-Even though neither of you have energy you two squabble a lot

-often about you doing nothing while he does all the work

-but he loves you beneath all that scolding and hitting

-he'll show it through buying you trinkets 😜or food (both r good)

-

you two were cuddling in YOUR bed (bc he sleeps on the floor like a weirdo) he read a book as you loosely followed along, before he remembered something. "hey did you clean the hallway like i asked" he asked looking over at you, soon realizing you forgot and looked away. "..yes" "don't lie to me, do i have to lock your phone away again. "WHAT NO" immediately getting up to do as your told.

"...I'm like your mother, telling you what to do" he said watching you get up. upon hearing this you stuck your tongue out and went to clean the hall.

-like i said before he often wacks you on the head, or tugs at your cheek/ear.

-when everyone else is gone though he'll kiss your cheek and rub it

'you dont listen to me, its for your own good'

'your not my mom your my boyfriend'

'.....'

-well more often than not he'll find you laying on the couch or sleeping, which he will drag you, and make you help him do something.

-that or he'll scold you for being on your phone too much

-and then you'll insult his phone case

-which ends up in him confiscating your phone and making you read

-but he loves you really, he can't really show it. But when your sleeping he will tuck you in and kiss your forehead. Or leave you credits to spend where ever the express is parked

-its when your awake where the problem begins

'i hate you' you grumble cleaning the windows alongside him

'you love me'

'....not right now'

--

this one is short and kinda bad but I HOPE YOU ENJOYED 😭

dude i got an email from my school

I WILL NO LONGER BE FREE 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 im old as fuck

THANK YOU FOR 24 FOLLWOERS 😭😭🥳🥳

im glad you guys like my shit posting and bad fics 😍

(btw can u guys tell hwen i post from my computer vs my phone

-- COMMETN LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE I LOV YOU

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Twenty-One

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty

AO3 LINK

Author's Note: This chapter got out of control and ended up split (did I add another 1k per beta notes? yes, yes I did). I also wrote half of this chapter in the blackout haze I was in during this past season soooo take that as you will.

Many many thanks to @darkwolf76 for her un-spoiled eyes on this chapter and the encouragement I needed! Go check her work out for Strong Family Feels!

Much love to @selfproclaimedunicorn who likes to see what pretty jars we can shove these characters into to shake them around. ALSO check out her fantastic fic as well!

@vampire-exgirlfriend is my favorite person in the whole world, the Rhaenyra fan to my Alicent fan, the fox to my rabbit. I adore you and this story would not be here without you.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Oh, Father, Tell Me

Aegon spirals on his morning ride and in the face of Daemon's arrival. A tense conversation with Larys Strong. Won't anyone just leave him the fuck alone?

The wind howled between the cracks around the windows and Abby snuggled deeper into the covers, Wylla’s hands clasped around her own. The bed was three times the size of the one she had in the Red Keep, and she tried not to think that the last person in this bed had been her mother.

“It’s alright,” Wylla whispered. “You shed all the tears you need.”

The words had been robbed from her in this haze of grief and loss, of confusion, and so many other things that raked at the soft meat of her insides. She could only nod into her pillow, and let Wylla push her hair from her face, half unfamiliar words in the song she sang quietly to her. It was only as Abby finally began to drift off, did she hear the sound of the door open, but she did not open her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Wylla hissed.

“You’re here to make sure nothing untoward happens,” Aegon’s voice drifted over her, followed by the soft thunk of boots on the rug. “The bed’s big enough; I can wake the other ladies to join us.”

“She just fell asleep-”

“Is she alright?” Aegon’s voice was softer and closer all the same, and Abby felt the bed dip as Aegon climbed on top of the covers behind her. The warmth of him was like a fire, soothing and comforting as he pressed up against her back, effectively keeping her contained between him and Wylla. She turned her head slightly and Aegon’s lips tenderly grazed her temple.

“She will be.” Wylla’s hands squeezed hers and Abby sighed, finally able to drift fully asleep.

Sleep had eluded Aegon, and he had woken far too early for his tastes, the murky gray light that signaled the coming dawn creeping in through the windows. The maid who had come to stoke the fire had stared at him, wide eyed, before dropping into a curtsy and hurrying from the room. He rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to Abrogail’s temple before dragging his stiff body from the bed and slipping quietly out onto the tiered balcony. He reached up, fingers caressing the wisteria blooms he’d sent back with Ser Simon all those months ago. Abby adored them, and he wanted to bring a piece of their garden here.

His father had ordered the deaths of Lyonel and Harwin Strong.

Jace had said little after the revelation, speaking of what he’d overheard, his voice harsh and cracking between breaths and in Aegon’s hands lay the admittance that his sister had truly sired bastards by the tongue of her own son. Jace had put the lives of his family in his hands then, amid his gasping and tear filled eyes. It was the moment that Alicent Hightower had been waiting for all these many years…and Aegon only kept a hand pressed between his nephew’s shoulder blades, sat beside his childhood companion, and simply sat there with him in the dark.

By rights, Aegon should hate the boy beside him. His feelings for his sister were a tangled knot of Helaena’s embroidery thread that joined the ribbon tied through his ribs. A piece of him that he would never be free of, for Aegon didn’t know how to cut himself free of it. It was not his sister in the crypt that Jace had heard, however. It had been the king, sire and grandsire, the head of their family. The man who looked past Aegon as if he was a specter that was too painful, and then the moment where those eyes focused and for those fleeting heartbeats, Aegon thought the king saw the son that he had.

His own hand held the blade - or in this case, lit the match - and it occurred to Aegon then how obvious it felt. Targaryens believed in a cleansing fire. Their house words spoke of this, Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood had come for House Strong, not a powerful wave crashing against the towers like some suspected Lord Corlys to have been responsible for it. His weak father had taken the accusations personally, and defended his daughter with the same sort of viciousness that Mother had defended Aemond. The same sort of viciousness that he never bestowed upon them.

Too weak. King Viserys was too weak but it was not weakness, Aegon thought, to spare a child. Had Rhaenyra admitted what had happened, he doubted anyone would have faced death. Ser Harwin would have gone to The Wall, Rhaenyra’s sons disinherited. Maybe Aegon would have become her heir then. Not that he wanted it, but Aemond would have even at that age, and that might have been something.

No. Instead, the king spilled blood through the sort of schemes he disdained of.

Harrenhal was too unfamiliar for Aegon to make his way through quietly. It was early enough that he wasn’t bothered, but it meant that the murmured conversations of the servants were his to overhear.

“They say it’s a Second Great Council,” a voice had said to their companion; two servants scraping out the great hearth that had burned low through the night. “I heard that the king will name his son heir at the wedding.”

“He didn’t name him in King’s Landing,” the other voice had pointed out.

The first voice laughed. “But more are coming to the wedding. You can see the tents for miles!”

The court had whispered those rumors the whole of Aegon’s life, every time his name day came around that it would be the year that he would supplant his sister as heir. Rumor that would chase along the whispers of court each time Rhaenyra gave birth to another brunette boy.

He wants me to inherit nothing! He wanted to scream at them. They all saw it. They all saw over and over again how little King Viserys cared for his long sought after first born son. The boy he stopped caring about as soon as Precious Rhaenyra’s little Jacaerys came.

Jacaerys Velaryon, who looked like Ser Harwin and always had, who shared the same dimpled smile as Abrogail. Jacaerys, who the king doted on and spoiled and paid more attention to than Aegon.

Jace, who had come running to him when he was small, crying because something had frightened him. Jace, who tagged along after him when Aemond rolled his eyes and stuck his head in a book.

The castle was already bustling as Aegon made the long walk to the stables, Kostōba already saddled by his request. He reached up to rub his palm along his face while he fed the horse a carrot for his good behavior and left out the main gates and down the trail west, away from Harrenton and towards the roost where Sunfyre and the other dragons had nested.

His father had ordered the deaths of Lyonel and Harwin Strong in order to cover up for his sister’s indiscretions.

Sunfyre rumbled beneath him as he climbed on, chittering and confused, watching him with great, golden eyes and trilling softly; a whistle of a song. Dreamfyre was curled up a ways away, Vermax chittering beside her while Moondancer perched up along the jagged rock of the ruined tower that made up the dragon roost. They all watched as Aegon and Sunfyre took off and Aegon let his stomach drop, the wind from the ascent pull tears from his eyes and tried to escape into the nothingness of the sky.

Did he even want to be king?

He had meant it when he said that he would not contest Rhaenyra’s claim. Kingship looked exhausting, with everyone demanding and expecting and pushing and pleading. He already dealt with the favor seekers and the clout chaser amidst court, preying upon him to aid their own desperate grabs at ascent. Cassandra Baratheon had been a more dangerous indulgence; the comely heir of a Lord Paramount with eyes set on something more. He wasn’t a fool. He knew that allowing her to think she could get her claws in him had been a risky move, and one that he was pleased had worked out for the better. She had not been the only one, nor, he knew, would she be the last.

Sunfyre let out a loud shriek and swooped down, the flotilla of previously peaceful ducks floating languidly upon the still waters of the lake now a frenzy of frightened calls before the dragon let out a pleased groan and scooped a mouth full of the water fowl into his mouth, belly just skimming the water, tail splashing in the sudden descent and quick ascent to avoid crashing into the depths. Water splashed up, the droplets catching into colored streaks of light in the early morning rays. He shouted in surprise and delight, Sunfyre shaking water from his head as he indulged himself, successfully pulling Aegon from the spiral of uncertainty that he had found himself in.

He did not want to be king, nor did he want to hide himself away amidst the ash and bone of the past the way his father did. He wanted to wake each morning buried balls deep in his wife, senses filled with her to erase away the haunted dreams of loneliness and pain. He wanted to greet the day upon dragonback and watch the sunrise; a streak of blue as vivid as Abrogail’s eyes, streaked with pink and orange and purple, the rays turning Sunfyre more golden and brilliant than ever. Where the world was quiet and peaceful, where nothing chased and demanded and clawed. Aegon wanted a life away from the harsh demands of King’s Landing. How peaceful it was here at Harrenhal. Yes, he missed the sound of bells from the Great Sept, the bustle and crush of Flea Bottom, but it was not a longing that bred contempt. Aegon knew that in his bones. It was an ache of appreciation, of thankfulness, because the quiet here, unexpectedly found as he and his dragon danced above the God’s Eye, was a gift he had not realized he had needed, let alone wanted.

The Isle of Faces was shrouded in the morning mist and the high, bone white boughs of the weirwoods reached up through the fog, the sprays of vivid red leaves like drops of blood against the snow. Sunfyre kept a distance away and Aegon did not urge him closer. He knew little of the island except that it was the last home of the Southron Weirwoods, a sacred place of worship. He squinted towards the island, the little outcropping that jutted out into the water, and startled as something moved.

The antlers caught his attention; the twist of the them at first fooling him for branches of a tree before the figure moved. It was no beast, at least, not one that Aegon had ever seen before. It was a shadow in the mist, a figure of some great height but he could not tell if it was what adorned its head or if the figure was truly tall. It moved out of the trees, the damp swirling around it as it stepped into the streak of morning light that lit up the little outcropping, shrouded in shadow.

Aegon’s ears pricked as a strange sound met him. A loud but low humming seemed to emanate the closer they came to the island. He had never heard such a thing before and although it was a distant sound, it reverberated in his bones, vibrating along the back of his neck.

His father had Lyonel Strong and his son were killed to protect Rhaenyra from further accusations.

The accusations had not been erased, and Aegon had seen the way Ser Simon had looked at the boy, eyes wide, the man who was so quick with words stunned speechless.

Everyone knows. Just look at them.

He craved the sweet rush of Arbor Red down his throat, or the taste of Abby’s cunt on his tongue. He craved escape and with an anguished shout, he urged Sunfyre faster, letting his roar claw at his throat just as Sunfyre joined him, the sensation of his dragon a comfort in his chest. The pair of them yelled together, Aegon breathless and lightheaded, his throat protesting at the scream he let out.

Sunfyre let out another trilling call and took off higher, the end of his tail slapping against the water and Aegon craned back to watch the figure as it grew smaller and smaller in the distance. The feeling in his stomach was one of uncertainty; an unsettled sensation that roiled in his belly like a sloshing ale tankard. He leaned over the horn of his saddle, running a gloved hand along Sunfyre’s scales. Another strong beat of his dragon’s wings, and Sunfyre sped faster into the dawn sky, the cold of the clouds hitting against Aegon’s face, cooling the perpetual heat of his skin and stinging his eyes. Yet he inhaled the smell of petrichor and let it course through his body and wash away the odd sensations and the thoughts that plagued him.

Still, it stuck.

His father had his wife’s father and brother killed to protect his sister. His wife’s other brother had a hand in it.

His sister, Aegon would never forget, who stood in the face of their brother’s maiming, the grievous injury that could have killed him; an ugly and long, painful death from infection and agony, to change the focus to her, and the perceived injustices against her, to the expense of the rest of them. Instead of punishing her children in any sort of capacity, she turned it into something completely different. Cruel and unnecessary; no one had been speaking of it. It had to do with Vhagar, not an attack on Rhaenyra herself. But she had run with Jace’s quiet words of a foolish child, bringing in what wouldn’t have been on the table had she not been fucking Harwin Strong and trying to pass his children off as Laenor Velaryon’s.

The king had eagerly gone along with it, further than even Aegon expected. King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, was mild, milquetoast, and so averse to conflict that he and Aemond would start muttering, “Oh no, my indigestion! Oh no, my ulcers!’” every time some sort of disagreement or conflict began to rise at whatever familial occasion came about. Their sire, who yelled and railed when he wished to be contrary to exercise his desire…had ordered the deaths of his Hand and the man’s heir—the man who his heir was fucking.

Three children too late, of course, but the king had been backed into a corner and had snapped and spread his wings to show he could be just as dangerous as Prince Daemon. Aegon knew that much about his father. Even if none knew how it had happened, did Rhaenyra know what their father had done for her? Aegon could not know her mind, but he knew if it had been himself, he would have raged at it.

He would have gone into the king’s room and torn his heart from his chest. This fool of a king who waited too long, acted too late to do anything and left them all here: fractured and broken with no hope of anything but blood across the throne.

Was Rhaenyra not also a dragon? Or had she rolled over and showed her belly in the face of their father’s twisted adoration?

Alicent Hightower’s children. Never brother nor sister..

Aegon had no choice. There was no world he existed in where Rhaenyra was not his sister. She had enough luxury to put distance between them, and how aggressively she did. Her shadow loomed behind him, and he knew that his own dogged her. She was not coming to this wedding for him. She was not coming to share in his incandescent joy to finally be bound to the one he loved. She was coming to assert her place, to remind them all that she was their father’s favorites, their father’s chosen.

What would she do in the face of House Strong who saw Jace’s face, and would soon see his brothers? What would the king feel compelled to do? Would he set the rest of the house ablaze to erase whatever physical similarities would undermine Rhaenyra’s claim? As if three sons of his own weren’t enough to undermine her? Take their faces instead of their tongues.

King Viserys despised nothing more than being made to look like a fool.

It was never just Mother who railed at what was plain to see. It was never just her.

‘Do you think Rhaenyra’s sons will be your playthings forever? When she ascends the throne, your life may be forfeit. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession. You are the challenge, Aegon! Just by living and breathing!’

Sunfyre rumbled beneath him, the chirping purr he made one full of confusion and concern, his great head turning to look back at him. Aegon remained slumped over the saddle horn as the dragon flew aimlessly above the God’s Eye and the rolling hills of the Riverlands. It would be so easy to unhook his belt and let himself roll off and plummet into the depths below. To escape the machinations and lies and secrets of his family and replace it with the depths of blue would be a simple escape. Whatever violence his mother and grandfather saw in the future, could he simply… make it go away? If he went away?

He could not. He would not. Not now. Not when he was so close. He could not leave Abby here alone in this world; he would not abandon her the way she had been left behind by everyone else. He’d promised and he meant it.

Aegon looked up from his staring at the pink frills along Sunfyre’s neck to blink up, eyes stinging, as a warbling, undulating call echoed from the east. It echoed over the rolling green fields and the forest that hugged along the banks by the castle. It was a distant sound that sent a shiver down his spine, undulating and unnerving. His stomach swooped and dropped uncomfortably, and the half bottle of wine he’d drunk last night threatened to slosh up. Sunfyre rumbled beneath him, a growl in his throat as he whipped towards the east with a screech.

There was only a single dragon in the sky; his sister must have gone further to meet the carriage that held the children and the Velaryons. The blood red of Caraxes’ scales glinted like garnets in the morning light. The distant sound of laughter joined the dragon’s call as the red pitched and turned north.

Sunfyre’s warning call screamed louder across the sky. He didn’t need to be told; Sunfyre simply knew. They bolted after them a heartbeat later, racing towards the hulking, melted spires of Harrenhal, thoughts of oblivion, of glutting on lake fish forgotten. His friend might not be quite as old as Caraxes, but he was just as big, and fast, if not faster. A screech let out, a flash of hot light expelled from Sunfyre as they gave pursuit, but the wyrm merely dropped down and another laugh echoed back. Something hot burned in Aegon’s chest and Sunfyre shuddered beneath him.

The command rested on Aegon’s tongue, tempting as a fresh bottle of wine, as his winsome lover spread upon his bed. It was from a deep, feral place in his chest, where Sunfyre’s presence glowed warm and molten through his veins. He bit his tongue and Sunfyre screeched for him. The need to take the other man and his dragon in his jaws, rip and rend and shake the bits of them as blood sacrifice to the gods, was near consuming. A rage inside of Aegon that had built over the years threatened to bubble up. The hot tang of blood rushed into his mouth both from dragon dreams and the fact that he’d bitten himself to keep from shouting. He was desperate to do something with this rage that had nowhere to go, and the idea of rending Daemon Targaryen limb from limb, offering him as sacrifice at the feet of his mother to free her from the strangling fear that turned her angry and desperate.Aegon would take the threats of their family, prove to Aemond that he too was capable of standing up, bold and strong. To show Otto Hightower that he was not the feckless fool he sought to puppet. To prove to Abrogail that she would never have anything to fear, ever again, and that their family would be safe.

To show Rhaenyra that she could keep her claim that she so desperately wanted, but that she would not come for them, lest she meet the same fate.

To show his sire-king, the decrepit old man he was, that Aegon would defend them with fire and blood too when he would not. To force King Viserys to see him and know that this was the creature he’d turned him into; that he’d turned this family into. Where his mother had turned cruel and desperate to protect them, where Aemond was angry all the time, where Aegon lived each day with a sword above his head, wondering if that morning would be the day the king did not wake, and the dragons would scream.

Another laugh echoed as the pair ahead swooped down to skim the water before bursting back up, amused and uncaring of the screaming dragon that gave chase. Daemon was enjoying it. He howled as that rage took him, and Sunfyre screamed along with him. They were nearing the great curtain walls of the fortress now, the sun to their right casting their shadows along the glimmering blue of the God’s Eye, the antlered shadow on the outcropping long forgotten. The wyrm banked further northwest to the dragon roost and Aegon hissed.

“Lilagon, Sunfyre,” he commanded, and Sunfyre danced. The dragon glided effortlessly into the turn, coming up up along the inside as they circled Harrenhal and used the momentum to burst past and rocketed straight for the broken tower. Sunfyre let out a warning cry, banking around and rising up, wings spread. Aegon had no thoughts, no words, except to protect. This was his, and this laughing man and his strange dragon wyrm had chosen already.

Like Viserys, Daemon had chosen his side, more dangerous than the rest of them.

The dragons below in the pit started shrieking in response to Sunfyre’s call, but Moondancer shot up, her calls far less distressed, the verdant green of her scales glimmering as she twirled in the air. At the little dragon’s approach, the wyrm circled towards her, the elongated neck ensuring that Caraxes’ eyes did not leave Aegon and Sunfyre, warning him away.

“Sȳrī tymptan!” came the distant shout. Aegon felt Sunfyre shift. “Aōha kepa avy dīnagon ozūndegon amastas! Rhaenyra aderī kesīr ulza.”

Dreamfyre was ululating from the ground in response to Sunfyre’s warning and Aegon glared towards his uncle.

“We’re fine,” he murmured to the dragon, scratching at the scales along his neck. Sunfyre huffed his displeasure but did not cry out again. Dreamfyre was still making sounds, but the distressed call had stopped and the two of them lowered to the ground, Moondancer still above and circling. The Dragonkeepers were rushing about, and Ser Arryk was holding onto his horse’s bridle, the stallion stomping its feet with fear at the shouts of the dragons. Aegon could see a wheelhouse in the distance, another Kingsguard stallion leading it ahead.

He undid the hooks on his saddle and slid down Sunfyre’s wing before the dragon could settle properly, his golden eyes fixated on the other dragon settling himself away from Dreamfyre. His breath was quick and his skin felt overly hot, prickly, like he was about to let out his own flame. Daemon Targaryen was far more fluid; lazy, even, as he swung himself down, the fall of the man’s hair and his long limbs a familiar sight. There was a strange moment when the man turned and cocked his head, that Aegon thought he was looking at his brother, and wondered in a terrifying moment, if Daemon Targaryen was Aemond’s future.

The last time he’d seen his uncle had been at Laena Velaryon’s funeral. A figure seen occasionally during his childhood, Daemon Targaryen was more a staple of stories and sneers than what Aegon would consider an actual uncle. He’d holed himself up on Driftmark with the Velaryons and the twins before he married Rhaenyra, and the pair of them had refused to come to court since their marriage. The man had changed little over the years. Tall and silver haired, Daemon was a figure of health compared to King Viserys, still recovering from the long trip up from the capital.

“Welcome to Harrenhal, Prince Daemon,” Aegon said, a final, gentle pat against Sunfyre’s neck, the dragon’s head turned to keep his golden eyes on the Blood Wyrm and its rider. Aegon lifted a hand, tugging his glove off with his teeth before pushing his tousled, wind tangled hair from his eyes. He would not be intimidated. He would not let the whispered threats of what Daemon Targaryen would do if the opportunity found him overtake him. This was his home, and Aegon was still the king’s son, and the prince was a guest. He’d made his loyalties clear years ago.

He remembered with such startling clarity running after his sister, shouting her name, begging her to wait for him, struggling to get his coat on and tripping in his haste. “Nyra wait!” She was striding down the hallway, the sun catching on her long silver hair, like Visenya reborn, waving to Daemon and Laena Velaryon. His sister had paused and looked back at him but it was Daemon’s sharp, cruel smirk that had stopped Aegon short as the man reached for Rhaenyra’s shoulder and drew her attention.

“He is of no importance.”

More who did not want him.

Aegon stumbled slightly as he felt a huff of warm, sulfuric breath hit his back, followed by the gentle bump of Sunfyre, the warmth of his purr vibrating inside the hollow between his ribs and through his limbs. There was a gentle chirp, like a bird song, and Aegon turned to press his hands against the dragon’s warm snout, pressing a kiss between his flared nostrils. “Lykirī,” he murmured, calming them both. Another pat against his warm scales and Aegon shoved his gloves in his pockets. Ser Arryk was watching him from his post near the stone cottage where the Dragonkeepers were staying. The elder man’s brows were slightly furrowed, his face impassive, but his gaze flitted to Daemon’s briefly before looking back to him.

“Your Grace,” Ser Arryk said. There was a question in the simple greeting that came from the years that Ser Arryk had been his sworn shield. It was nothing specific and sometimes it caused a prickle of uncertainty and self-doubt, different in the self-conscious feelings that Ser Criston stoked.

“I’m sure the prince would appreciate the quiet solitude of the carriage ride,” Aegon said on his approach, his gaze darting towards Daemon as he stalked towards them. The carriage would be there shortly, back in sight after the bend around some of the boulders that marked the border of the shale caves here along the lake. “He does spend much of his time surrounded by the babbling of children.”

“How thoughtful you are. You certainly don’t get that from your mother.”

Aegon ran his tongue over his teeth, jaw aching with a pain that was not his own, Sunfyre still rumbling beneath his skin. The bait was blatant, so low hanging that he could kick it should he so wished. How he wished to take it and pummel Daemon with it. His mother’s hands may have left scars upon him, but she was his mother. His defender even when he disappointed her. These last few months were strange and hopeful in a way he didn’t know how to handle. Her touch had been gentle across his brow or upon his shoulder, her smiles tentative but there, the furrow between her brow easing.

His mother who cuddled him when he was small and afraid when she was pregnant with Daeron, that he would lose her, who cared about the small folk in her sponsorships and initiatives she was so busy with. Nothing Aegon would do was ever good enough, but sometimes? Sometimes it was.

The response to Daemon was on his tongue, ripe and juicy as a grape. “And we know you get nothing from yours.” Cruel and barbed and hooked, his own teeth bared if Daemon Targaryen was so eager to see what he was made of.

“I did not realize you and the queen were so close for you to recognize what qualities I did or did not receive from her,” Aegon said instead, wan smile and cursory look in the elder’s direction. “If you were wondering, I do get my good looks from her, and a taste for honey cakes.” He shrugged, reaching over to stroke the velvet softness of his stallion’s nose. “The hair is, of course, from my father, the king. I notice Baela wears the same displeased expression you wear. As well as your nose.”

The smile he gave Daemon was a bit brighter this time as the carriage pulled up, Ser Marbrand on his steed. The door opened unexpectedly and Baela herself came out, silver braids swinging and the gold bands shining in the light. He had spent enough time around his cousin over the past few months to see the same uncertain tension in her shoulders that he frequently saw in Aemond as she took in her father.

“I heard Caraxes,” she said by way of greeting, the deep greens and blues of her riding leathers scored with seahorses and dragons. Daemon’s attention swung to his daughter and Aegon ignored the rest of the conversation as it turned into High Valyrian, rapid and ancient, their accents markedly different from how he spoke with his own siblings. A raw feeling struck hard inside his chest, and he watched them for another moment before his attention swung to further movement at the carriage.

“Welcome to Harrenhal, Prince Daemon,” Larys Strong’s voice carried unexpectedly well given his low tone. “Forgive me for not getting out - it is rather difficult for me to move here.”

Daemon’s face was impassive at being addressed by the lord of Harrenhal and Aegon looked at the soft, torn up ground that the carriage had stopped in. Baela gave Aegon a nod before pulling her father’s attention, her Valyrian flowing easily. “I thought we could go riding. Just you and I.”

“Another carriage is on its way, your Grace,” Ser Marbrand said. “I shall stay here, Ser Arryk.”

Kostōba pawed at the ground and without being asked, the footman tied Aegon’s horse to the back of the carriage. Aegon bristled, opening his mouth to demand the servant cease until Larys’ voice came once more.

“Join me in the carriage, my prince. We are going to be family soon, and it’s so difficult to get time together.”

Aegon’s eyes narrowed a touch, long lashes hooding his eyes as he turned his attention back to the footman who had handled his horse. He could hear his uncle and cousin still conversing in rapid Valyrian, their words muffled just enough, so easily flowing between them that Aegon couldn’t keep up. The horses knickered and whined, pawing at the ground with the proximity to the dragons.

“Of course, Lord Larys. We will indeed.” Aegon gave him a tight smile and gestured for him to enter the wheelhouse first. The ones from the capital prioritized privacy with their screened in windows. The ones belonging to House Strong were more easily opened, the windows with little, folded shutters and fluttering linen curtains; far more open and far less like a cage.

Larys tapped the handle of his cane against the roof of the wheelhouse, and with a gentle jerk they headed back. Aegon leaned back against the plush pillows of the bench, stretching his legs out before him. In the small space, it was a sight to see how tall Larys Strong was. He was a thin man, much like Aemond, but while Aemond walked as straight as a blade, Larys made himself small. A sick feeling curled in the pit of his stomach as the understanding washed over him; the feeling of seeing one in the mirror. Aegon did the same thing. Curled shoulders and slouching to avoid the gaze of those who would bite at him.

The only difference, Aegon surmised, was that Larys’ desire to be undetected did not come from something as childish as his own desire to be unnoticed.

The soft sound of scraping drew Aegon’s gaze down to peer at Larys’ metal boot.

“When you take your seat here, my prince, you should know what you’re up against,” Larys said softly, his dark eyes pinning Aegon like one of Helaena’s bugs to the board. “You handled the council meeting well, as the squabbles of the Blackwoods and Brackens are exhausting to us all. Of course, Grover Tully approves of you. He may have sworn oaths to your father’s chosen successor, but make no mistake that he will raise banners for you. His grandson, Elmo, on the other hand…”

Aegon recalled the elder man with a wash of inferiority. Elmo Tully was tall and broad, with dark, auburn hair and piercing eyes that shifted from blue to green, he recalled, because it had unsettled him. ‘Lucerys’ eyes,’ Aegon remembered thinking when he first sat across from the man at the small council table.

“Aunt Celeste isn’t your mother, is she?” Aegon’s brow furrowed as he tried to reconcile the woman who had helped raise him with how she could bear this giant of a man. Ser Harwin let out a sad sounding laugh and shook his head.

“No, my prince. My mother was Lysa Tully, granddaughter of Lord Grover. I squired in Riverrun before my father became Master of Laws for your father.” Ser Harwin shook his curls from his face, reaching to tie it back to keep it from his face. “She died when I was a little sprog, barely walking.” A distance took his eyes and Aegon averted his gaze to offer the man privacy.

“He supports Rhaenyra,” Aegon finished, not wishing to dance around implications.

“He will, if only because he views the Hand and your mother as overstepping the crown’s wishes and the contract between the throne and its people.”

Aegon frowned at this, arms folded across his chest. “Speak plain, Lord Larys,” he said with his own hard look. Aegon understood games, he understood doublespeak, but there was much left to the imagination and he would not be made a fool of. “The throne provides for its people. What imagined overstepping is he so worried about? He’s simply sore that he lost Harrenhal to me.”

“He’s concerned about the dragon this marriage placed in his lands.” Larys shrugged softly and leaned back in the seat, the carriage jostling over a particularly large bump. “Harrenhal of course is a boon, but not in the way you might think. A comely bride is merely an additional perk, not the prize as it was for you.”

Aegon hummed softly in a way that reminded him of his brother and curled his fingers into his arms to resist the need to pick at the skin. Aemond had said something similar over the course of his nameday. How now all would see how vulnerable he was, and the way to wound him most grievously. Aegon, on the other hand, had sneered at that. Abby was not a weakness to him. To lose her would be to lose himself, yes, but it would not destroy him like Aemond tried to imply.

Of course it wouldn’t.

“They’re here to discuss the marriage contract. Lord Elmo is here on behalf of his father since Lord Tully is abed back at Riverrun. Several of the other river lords are with him, wishing to hammer out the details the crown and I worked out in regards to the inheritance of Harrenhal and jointure, the dowry, and the fact that Lord Elmo sees your placement in the Riverlands as a threat that you will take the Paramount seat from him should he not support you.”

Aegon’s face twisted in confusion, nostrils flaring at the insult at being accused of something he had no desire for. He leaned forward, a hand reaching up to the handle along the roof of the carriage to balance himself.

“He accuses me of coveting his seat?” Aegon hissed. “Just as these lords think I’m plotting to steal my sister’s throne. Why are they so quick to think ill of me? To accuse me of villainy and brand me traitor when I’ve done nothing of the sort. I plot no schemes or collusions—”

“You were born,” Larys interrupted with a soft and earnest voice. He too leaned forward, mimicking Aegon’s position. “You are the first born son of a king who murdered his first wife in the hunt for a healthy, living son, Prince Aegon. You did not choose this mantle, you did not choose to be born the son of the king, and I did not choose to be born with my own struggles. But these are the lots we have drawn in life and we must make the best of it.”

This close, Aegon noticed how he looked a bit like Ser Simon, who himself looked like the ghost of Lord Lyonel. Larys’s features were sharper than the rest of his family, he and his sister both, likely from their Frey mother. But the dark eyes reminded him of the amber glass eyes that stared out of the mounted stag heads and bear heads that lined one of the small halls in the Red Keep.

“Your own struggles?” Aegon snarled. “Like murdering your father and brother so you could have the seat instead of skulking about the Red Keep for the rest of your days?”

Aegon leaned back and so did Larys, who dropped his hand to grip the handle of his cane. He looked out the window silently, his jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the amber bauble on the cane. Larys did not ask him how he knew.

Caraxes’ whistling shriek echoed high across the lake valley. There was an even more distant answer: the long absent cry of Syrax that he hadn’t heard in years.

As Larys Strong’s dark eyes found him, Aegon felt like the elder was peeling away his skin as methodically as he peeled fruit, or the flesh of the convicts in the torture cells of the Red Keep. Aegon watched the twitch of his features and the shadow that passed over his gaze.

“Prince Aegon,” he said slowly, words measured, pausing for a moment before he finally continued. “The death of my father and elder brother was a tragic accident. It was never supposed to happen that way.”

Aegon’s mouth went dry. So what Jace said was, in fact, true;that Aegon had blurted it out to the man accused was of no matter. The bottom of his stomach dropped out with an unpleasant swoop.

Larys’ can thumped softly against the floor of the carriage. “It is not something that was done out of greed, or selfishness. Nor was it years of resentment. I loved my father very much. While a lesser father would have cast a babe born as I was aside, to dash their heads against the stone and write the babe off as another loss in a long line of tragedy, he fed my appetite for learning. He taught me how to hone my mind the way my brother honed his blade. He offered to send me to the citadel if it was what I wished, just as he attended in his youth before his brother, Tristafer, died and he became heir. When I declined to go to Oldtown, he helped me find a place in the world where I could excel.”

“Then you killed him,” Aegon said, voice low, brow slightly furrowed. “A man you claimed to love, who had done so much for you, and you burned him alive.”

The other man looked down at his cane, impassive in the face of Aegon’s words. He took a breath, a slight shake of his head, then met Aegon’s eyes once more. “Princess Rhaenyra kept my brother at her side and my father, love him as I did, he did not stop it. He could have. He did not.” Larys paused and his eyes went downcast, sweeping across the floor, but Aegon did not think he was truly looking at anything. “The king saw a threat to the stability of the royal family and made his wishes clear. When the king wishes something, it will be done. Your father wanted to silence the whispers. I would not let some assassin come after my family. We all make sacrifices in life, Your Grace. Often, that is in response to…,” Larys met his gaze, “...the actions, or inaction, of our fathers and our siblings. Duty and sacrifice are tenets of your mother’s, so I know you understand. I sacrificed them to salvage what I could of our house, and to save my sweet sister who was meant to return here as my brother finally came to take his place as future lord.”

The silence was oppressive, the air thick from it, as Larys held his gaze for several more moments before releasing him to look out the window. Aegon had nothing to say and instead looked out his own window towards the lake and the trees along the shoreline. Larys had given him much to consider and it was a new experience to not have it all blamed upon Rhaenyra or even the fleeting implications in the complacency of the king. Larys had implicated his own father and brother; a mess made of the four of them.

Aegon recalled the pale, silent ghost that Abby had turned into after the deaths of Lyonel and Harwin, barely remembering the discussion of her returning to Harrenhal. His mother had been quiet too and locked for hours in the sept. Aegon had thought she had been grieving with Abby, had grieved the loss of the relationship she had had with Lord Lyonel. Did she too know about this?

It was so much. It was too much for him to think of all right now and he didn’t want to focus on it. The danger at hand now was the presence of Elmo Tully and the other lords who were raising an issue and trying to prevent his marriage. The anger at being misjudged and assumed that he was coming for things he could not give two shits about, that took the forefront of his mind. He didn’t want to be king and he didn’t want a Paramount seat. He just wanted his dragon, and Abrogail, and whatever family they made for themselves.

Well. That was a season. This chapter got so damn long that we've had to split it in two, which at the end of the day is a good thing. I'll get to flesh out the second half and start moving us into a couple housekeeping things before we launch into the long awaited family dinner, a spicy spicy chapter, and THEN THE WEDDING! As an FYI, I'm starting a new job on Monday! I will no longer be WFH, so my writing time is going to be a helluva lot different moving forward, but we're still sticking to the 'at least once a month' chapter updates. And with the next chapter now half down, I'm hoping to get back to a small buffer. Thank you all for being here, and I always always love to hear from you. If you're not sure what to say, a reblog lets more people read this story! My askbox is also open! Thank you for reading <3

[Next Chapter]

[citrusses]

As you know, I am the president of your fan club, but I'm willing to take the hat off for five minutes so that you can answer this question:

What do you think is the best thing you've written, and why do you like it? Could be an entire fic, a scene, or a single sentence.

Putting my hat back on now 💕💕

My darling couch! My beloved sofa! My deity of furniture! As YOU know I am the president of YOUR fan club (i have defied the laws of physics in my speed clicking on subscriber emails about your fics) and I’m delighted to get this question. Did that make it easy to answer? NO!

But for you I will answer! I enjoyed revisiting the below scene from Our Objective Remains Unchanged (commentary below the cut - or potentially not, I’m on mobile and it’s giving me trouble)

They hadn’t trained with only each other in months. The Thames was drifting towards the rising sun, the sky above mottled purple like a bruise. Harry felt a pang of nostalgia for Michaelmas term.   

He and Draco hadn’t even known each other back then. Not really. 

They grabbed a double scull and pushed out into the river, their strokes through the water leisurely. 

“You know,” Harry said, “if I had any talent for poetry, I think I’d want to write it about the Thames.”

“You wouldn’t be the first, Potter.” 

“Yes, I’m completely unoriginal and uncultured, you’ve mentioned before. Shut up, I’m trying to say something.” He could see Draco’s shoulders shaking in amusement. “I’d write about the Thames in Wallingford, in the morning, when the sky is more grey than blue, and the water and the whole world are waiting for the sun to light them up. But it’s so beautiful, the potential of what’s to come.”

“It is beautiful,” Draco said softly. 

“That colour—it’s the same as your eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”

Draco made a little, sharp sound—like he was fighting a quick twist of pain. Harry let go of one of the oars to take Draco’s hand with his own, and Draco surprised him by clutching back tightly for a moment before dropping it.

It’s a sentimental one! But I like it for a number of reasons. This comes at a point in the story where we’re building towards a crucial, action-heavy scene (the Boat Race) and I think the slowness of this scene is a good counterpoint to the faster pacing of the events around them. There’s also (I hope!) a decent amount of payoff of the relationship they’ve been building to here — Harry attempting to relate to Draco through his love of poetry and Draco reciprocating the non-sexual physical affection he’s been hesitant to give Harry up to this point. They also are NOT saying a lot here, which I am always weak for. Finally, this parallels an earlier scene that I also very much like.

I hope I picked well! I’m honored to get this ask from you ❤️❤️❤️

[kiryoutann]

An idea where Simon is a guy who posts tutorials on YouTube in his spare time outside of deployment. It was Johnny’s idea, originally—gossiping about how “th’ internet’s made increasing ‘money easy. All ya need is a wee bit of brains and a half-decent camera,” on a night when the team decided to hit the pub for a pint or two. The Scot continues, “Hell, ye dinnae even need a brain, people just shake their asses on camera and call it a day.”

And at first, Simon wasn’t interested. But somehow, he ended up posting his first tutorial video, uploaded with a half-assed, messy title. No one's going to watch it, anyway.

Until, his old laptop dinged with an email notification—someone had left a comment on his video, “Great video. Precise and thorough. Earned a sub.” Zero became one subscriber, then two, ten, until he had 98. It was a random channel, actually; it didn’t focus on one type of content. He posted whatever he wanted to post—and it ended up being something like fishing, survival tips, DIY engine modification or something like that. And sometimes even cooking.

Simon thought of making a video about disassembling and assembling different types of weapons, but ended up not doing so to avoid comments about the military. So, he uploaded that video of him cooking the easiest thing he could—English Breakfast. And you. You stumbled upon that video.

It’s funny, that this gruff-voiced, tattooed man who keeps his identity anonymous by staying behind the camera has his own way of cooking his sausages, paying attention to the details of his scrambled eggs and flipping his toast to the perfect crispness. He slips in a few tips, a few lame jokes that end up being funny because of the chuckle you hear in the video. You don’t usually leave comments or even like videos on YouTube, but—

“I never thought I’d crave a full English breakfast until now. Love the step-by-step instructions. And just wanted to say, the voice and the accent… *chef’s kiss*”

When you wrote that, you weren’t thinking anything. After all, you weren’t the only one saying that—the comment section was filled with compliments, and four of them also mentioned how his voice made them crave something and it’s not the food.

You weren’t expecting anything until a ding caught your attention from your laptop the next morning. A new email – from Youtube. A reply from Reaper777. Who's that? Oh, oh.

“Glad you liked the video. Maybe I’ll make more videos just for you then.”

… Reaper777, are you flirting? The corners of your lips tug as your smile spreads; your fingers fly to your phone screen and you quickly type a response.

“Can I make some special requests then?” and send. Then, another ding.

Reaper777: Let’s hear it.

And that was the beginning of a long thread of comments under a Youtube video on how to make a full English breakfast.

[author note: i need to get this off my system!! | CALL OF DUTY MASTERLIST. WRITING COMMISSION. CHECK OUT MY ONGOING SIMON FIC!]

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 10 - The Honeymoon (Part 2)

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette have a fun time on Erinnyes Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging with one of his kin

Previous | Next

 “Madame, we have arrived at Marcotte Station.”

The whisper in your ear was accompanied by a gentle shaking of your arm. “Ugh…?” you let out a moan and opened your eyes. Your head was resting on something soft—what was it? You turned your head and was met with lilac eyes peering into your own.

You had been resting your head against his shoulder.

“Oh!” your head practically flicked back. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I fell asleep…”

Great, just great. Way to start your date with a good impression! You glanced at his shoulder. It didn’t seem as though you had drooled on him, at least.

“No need to apologize,” Neuvillette said as you took out a small mirror from your purse and fixed your hair. “You should get all the rest you need. We have a long walk ahead of us, after all.”

“A long walk…” you repeated as you gazed out at the long walkway that stretched into the distance. Why did they have to build everything on the other end of the island? At least you wore comfortable walking shoes today.

You stood up and stretched, then thanked Elphane before climbing down the aquabus’s ladder. Neuvillette followed, and the aquabus soon departed after.

You started marching ahead. The burbling of the fountains and the chirping of finches, along with the refreshing morning air made a pleasant accompaniment to your walk. All your earlier nervousness seemed to melt away, replaced with a bubbling excitement. You now understood a little why people woke up early to jog in the morning.  

“There is no need to walk so quickly,” Neuvillette said, even as he easily caught up to you with his long legs. “We have plenty of time, and personally, a walk is much improved by enjoying the scenery.”

“Is there scenery to enjoy here?” you asked, confused. You had visited the opera a few times over the years, and while you always found the sight of the opera house rising into your field of vision awe-inspiring, you didn’t find the walk there very interesting.

“Of course. Why, just look at this river running beneath our feet and converging into the vast waters in the distance. See how clearly the water reflects the mountains, grass, and flowers. I have always considered Erinnyes to be the perfect combination of land and water.”

You couldn’t help but smile at hearing Neuvillette wax poetic about the water. Neuvillette might seem inscrutable on the surface, but he was really a man of simple pleasures and predictable habits. Although you suspected that you and him had different aesthetic tastes, you enjoyed the challenge of trying to see the world through his eyes.

“But don’t you get tired of seeing the same sights every day for hundreds of years?”

“Not at all. There is always something new and interesting to see, whether in the land or the people, particularly the latter.”

“The people?” you looked up at him. “You’re a people-watcher?”

Neuvillette rubbed his cheek awkwardly. “Is that such a surprise?”

“Yes. I mean, well…” you struggled to word your thoughts the right way. “It’s just that…you always make an effort to maintain a distance from people in order to stay impartial at all times, so I assumed that you didn’t have that much interest in humans.”

“You’re not entirely wrong,” Neuvillette admitted. “But I do in fact enjoy observing the citizens of Fontaine go about their daily lives. It helps with my duties as the Chief Justice as well.”

“That does makes sense,” you said. “Tell me about the kinds of people you see here, then.”

“Very well then, Madame, if you insist. I’m afraid I’m not much of a storyteller, however.”

Neuvillette then started to tell you about all the strange and interesting sights and incidents he had witnessed here. Though he claimed not to be much of a storyteller, you found him easy to listen to and happy to be interrupted whenever you asked for more details.

Before you knew it, the sun had climbed higher in the sky and the opera house stood before you. There were very few people around. The Fountain of Lucine danced high in the sky.

“You know, it’s funny how I've never attended a trial here since we’ve gotten married,” you said as you gazed up at the tall building. “Perhaps I should rectify that in the future.”

“I thought you didn’t enjoy trials.”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “But lately I’ve started gaining an interest in them.”

It was true. Before, you would mainly read the newspaper for the news of the day and the serialized novels, but now you've started to read the judicial affairs section, particularly the court cases presided over by Neuvillette.

“Besides,” you added. “I’m a citizen of Fontaine too, so it’s my civic duty in a sense, to contribute my part to the power source.”

You had somewhat expected Neuvillette to tell you not to force yourself, but instead he said, “If you ever decide to attend one, tell me, so I may reserve a seat for you.”

The two of you turned left, in the direction of Erinnyes Forest. As paved stones gave way to uneven dirt, you felt the atmosphere change. Not just in the sky, which seemed to darken all of a sudden, but between the two of you. It felt as if this honeymoon-date was beginning in earnest. You glanced up at Neuvillette, wondering if he felt the same way you did, and found him looking down at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Both of you hurriedly looked away.

“This place is very beautiful,” you said, in an attempt to distract you both, but it was also the truth. You liked the feel of the pine trees lining one side of the path and the slate gray cliffs lining the other. It felt like you were being shepherded to somewhere magical. “It’s a shame that not a lot of people come here.”

Your hometown was to the west of the Court of Fontaine, located in pretty much the middle of nowhere. It was a peaceful—some might say boring—locale. The only time you had ever come close to running into monsters was when a group of hilichurls set up camp on the outskirts of your village, but they were soon cleared out by some hired adventurers.

“I agree, Madame. But there are reasonable justifications as to why that is. Erinnyes is different from the other regions of Fontaine.”

“Because of the strange fog and the vishaps? But I read that they don’t attack you unless you attack them first.”

You had been nervous about the vishaps, but assured yourself that with Neuvillette there, there was nothing to worry about.

And, there was the long-suppressed adventurous part of you that really wanted to see them for yourself.

“You are correct, but it is still better to be careful when you come here.”

You nodded, then looked around. So far, you haven’t seen anything even remotely similar to a vishap. You didn’t even see any hilichurls or Treasure Hoarders, even though you had also read that there were plenty of both that could be found here. Perhaps Neuvillette was taking you on a safer path.

You stopped when you passed by a small waterfall.

“What kind of flowers are these?” you knelt down and stared at a small azure flower growing by the water. “I think I’ve seen them in a book, although I don’t recall their name.”

“This is a Lakelight Lily,” Neuvillette knelt down next to you. “They mainly grow in Erinnyes.”

Then, after seeming to consider something, he picked it and held it out to you. “My apologies,” he said, suddenly looking awkward. “I am of the understanding that it is a custom to give flowers on dates, but I didn’t know what were your favorites. It’s not suitable, I know.”

You stared at the blue flower in his hand, feeling your heart flutter and heat rise to your cheeks. “I…um, thank you,” you carefully accepted it, and brought it to your nose. It smelled pure and refreshing, like a mountain spring. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

You could feel Neuvillette staring at you again. You wondered what sort of ridiculous expression you had on your face right now. “I…I wish I have my flower press with me. I would love to preserve this flower. It was one of my hobbies back home, you know, flower pressing. I had an album full of clippings from the plants that grew around my village. I liked looking at pressed flowers as well. Oh, Lakelight Lilies, I’ve read about them before! Do you know the legend where the previous Hydro Archon was said to have given one to the last Lochknight?” you babbled.

It was funny. You were able to talk to him relatively easily at home, despite the fact that it was arguably a more intimate environment than here, but now it felt like you were talking to him for the first time. Although, I was nowhere near as bad as this when we first met.

“Your album must be a sight to behold. Would you allow me to see it some time?”

“Oh, you can’t now. I threw it away a long time ago. It was just a childish pastime for me anyways.”

There was an awkward silence. Neuvillette looked caught off guard. You wanted to punch yourself in the face. This is why…

“Oh, um, by the way,” you said, your voice sounding too loud in tranquil environment. “I don’t really have any favorites. For flowers, I mean. It’s not something I really thought about before. So you don’t need to worry about buying me a bouquet or anything. …Do you have a favorite flower, sir?”

Your eyes were fixed on the flower, so you couldn’t see the expression on his face as he quietly said, “I am of a similar opinion,” He then reached for the flower. “May I?”

“Oh, sure…” you said, giving the lily to him. He took it, and then proceeded to tuck the flower into your hair, just above your left ear. Even through his glove, you could feel the warmth of his hand. It lingered in your hair for a moment.

“I don’t mean to go against your opinion, Madame, but in my view, flowers are most beautiful when they are alive and placed where they look best,” he said, then gestured to the water surface. You looked no different than before, except for the fact that there was now a Lakelight Lily in your hair, and yet you couldn’t help but feel that your reflection showed a stranger. “You see? It’s beautiful.”

You couldn’t look away from his eyes—you weren’t sure you even wanted to. Somehow, you managed to tear away and turned your head to the side and spotted another lily next to the one Neuvillette picked for you. You reached for it and, spurred on by a sudden spurt of boldness, picked it and tucked it in Neuvillette’s hair.

“There,” you said. “Now we match.”

A soft sigh escaped from Neuvillette’s lips. The distance between the two of you wasn’t so close, but you swore you could feel his breath against your hair.

After a charged silence, Neuvillette stood up. “Let us not tarry here any longer. I want us to spend as much time at our destination as we can.”

“O-Okay,” you nodded, still feeling flustered.

As you continued your walk, you soon encountered a wall of thick fog. As you remembered, this place was called the Foggy Forest Path, and it did indeed live up to its name. Instinctively, you reached out your hand, and it bumped into a silk-covered one. You held onto it tightly. The hand was limp for a moment, as though its owner was surprised, and then it hesitantly squeezed yours back.

“We should hold hands so we don’t lose each other,” you said and looked up at him, or rather, where he should be. The fog was so thick that you could only see the faint blue glow of the Lakelight Lily in his hair.

“…Yes, you’re right,” Neuvillette said. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. His hand gripped yours even tighter. “Please try not to let go.”

“I won’t,” you said, and started walking forward. Everything except the dirt road right before your eyes was obscured. You couldn’t even hear the chirping of the birds. It was as though the whole world had disappeared, and the only thing anchoring you to reality was the firm, warm grip on your hand.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, the fog cleared.

“Wow…” you breathed out as you stared at the sight before your eyes.

It was the azure blue Weeping Willow, standing in the middle of the lake like a fountain spout eternally frozen just before its water droplets hit the ground. There were smaller willows standing on the banks of the lake, like the attendants of a glorious lady.  

You stepped forward, taking your hand out of Neuvillette’s grip. You didn’t notice him staring at his hand intently after you did so.

“This place is incredible!” you exclaimed, turning back to Neuvillette. He looked up at you. “I can definitely understand why this is your favorite place in all of Fontaine.”

You had seen pictures of the willow, but seeing it for yourself was a completely different experience. Your legs seemed to run forward on their own before you remembered yourself and stopped. This was technically supposed to be a date, after all, not a field trip.

“Ahem, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you said. “Shall we go on ahead?”

Neuvillette strode up to you. “But of course, Madame,” he said, then extended his elbow out to you. You stared at it for a few moments before realizing that he wanted you to link arms with him. How unexpected.

The sun shined brightly down upon the two of you as you descended the slope. You expected Neuvillette to move into the shade, but he didn’t. The tree was even more majestic and extraordinary up close. It looked as though it was floating in midair.

“If only I have a Kamera,” you groaned. “I need to take pictures of everything!”

“In that case, let me unveil another surprise for you,” Neuvillette said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-polished device. “A Kamera.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you, sir?” You took it in your hands and examined it. It looked a bit different from the Kameras you were used to seeing. “I didn’t know you owned one.”

“It was a recent gift from the Melusines.”

“A recent gift? Was it a birthday present?”

“Yes, from about a hundred years ago.”

You nearly dropped the Kamera. “A hundred years ago? That’s not recent at all! This is an antique.”

Neuvillette looked genuinely confused. “It isn’t?”

It was easy for you to forget that Neuvillette was actually hundreds of years old. If asked how, you would have to say that he simply didn’t act like it. Not that you knew what a person who was hundreds of years old acted like. Perhaps it was the fact that he never talked about his past very much.

Come to think of it, the Melusines were hundreds of years old as well. Lately, you had been surrounded by people who were vastly older than you.

The thought of it made you feel small, but also exhilarated. You imagined that this was what explorers felt when they encountered ancient ruins for the first time.

The Kamera wasn’t difficult to operate. After fiddling with it for a bit, you figured it out and proceeded to snap photos of all the flora and fauna. Neuvillette followed behind you as you trekked around, occasionally directing you away from threats.

You could feel his gaze boring into your back. He followed you at a respectable distance, neither too close nor too far, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling like you were being stalked by a starving beast that wanted something from you. It was unnerving, and it made you feel awfully self-conscious. But more than that, you felt guilty. Despite your lack of romantic experience, even you knew that this wasn’t how a date should be. Hell, not even an outing between two friends should be so one-sided. But you knew that if you brought it up with Neuvillette, he would just say something along the lines of “I’m happy as long as you’re happy.”

You had always been the type to follow the lead of others when it came to situations like this. It was easier that way, and you justified it to yourself with the reasoning that you were boring anyways. But now that you were dealing with someone who was content to follow your lead, you were beginning to understand the pressure it placed on others.

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” you turned around to face him after some thought. “I’m getting tired of this.”

Neuvillette’s face fell. “…I see. Yes, of course you would be. There isn’t much in entertainment here. I can take you back to the Court of Fon—”

“Not in that way,” you interrupted him. “I mean of this silence. This is your favorite place, and yet you’re not telling me anything about it.”

“I’m afraid that I have no talent for being a guide. I’m sure the books you’ve read are more than sufficient.”

“It doesn’t matter. I just want to hear your voice.”

Neuvillette was silent for a minute. “…Very well, Madame, if you insist. What would you like to know?”

“Well…tell me about the water here.”

Neuvillette brightened a little at that. He is so predictable, you thought. He started to tell you about the water veins that spread underground throughout Fontaine, and how the tree is affected by them. According to him, the water veins contained information, making Erinnyes a sort of information system.

“And you can learn that information by tasting these water veins?” you asked, fascinated.

“Yes, I can.”

“Isn’t that a bit…disgusting? I mean, drinking water straight from a lake is a bit…”

“Disgusting?” Neuvillette seemed genuinely perplexed. “Why would it be?”

Then, before your astonished eyes, he took out his cup and filled it with lake water and drank it. His face relaxed into a smile. “Ah, exquisite. Would you like to try some?”

“Um…no thank you, sir,” you politely declined. Sampling his imported water was one thing, but drinking lake water was something else.

“So, is this the lake where the maiden of the lake, Daeira, gave Hauteclaire to Erinnyes? Was this the place where Erinnyes threw her sword before she disappeared?” you asked a question that had been on your mind since you arrived here.

“It may very well be. I know that many of the prevailing theories believe that this is that very lake.”

“What do you mean? Surely you were…”

“No, Madame, I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I was not around during that era.”

“You weren’t?” You were mortified by how rudely you blurted that out and the genuine disappointment that sprang up in your heart. Your expression must have been equally impudent, because Neuvillette actually let out a chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand. But you could still see his crinkled eyes.

The air between the two of you was no longer quite so awkward. Neuvillette was smiling now, so everything was alright. You would endure a thousand humiliations just for that.

And now you learned something new about him.

“How old did you think I was?” Neuvillette asked, still smiling.

“I, um, shouldn't say. It’s rude,” you mumbled, looking away. “You do look very…er, good for your age, though.”

“What was that last part, Madam? I couldn’t quite make it out,” Neuvillette stepped closer. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing you.

“It’s nothing. Can we go to the tree now?” You awkwardly changed the subject. “I’ve been dying to take a closer look at it. I heard that people used to worship it in ancient times.”

“Why, certainly,” Neuvillette held out his arm to you. “Let us go.”

The lake spread out before you. It was bigger than you thought. You could see geese peacefully swimming on the surface. The water was so clear that you could see down to the bottom. The tree’s thick roots stretched out beneath the water, disappearing into countless underwater caverns.

“How are we going to get there?” you wondered out loud. You hadn’t brought swimwear, and you weren’t a very strong swimmer. Was Neuvillette going to…?

“No need to worry,” he said, then led you to one of the blue trees by the lake. There was something next to it covered by a tarp. He lifted it up, revealing a wooden rowboat.

“Oh, wow,” you said, walking around the boat and taking pictures. It looked newly painted. “Did you prepare this?”

“Yes,” Neuvillette nodded, looking a bit bashful.

“It’s wonderful. But where are the oars?” You couldn’t find them inside the boat or outside.

“We won’t be needing them,” he said. “You wished to see me demonstrate my powers, did you not?”

“Agh…” you scratched your head in embarrassment. He got you there. “You really don’t have to do this just to entertain my idle curiosities…”

“Nonsense. I’m doing this simply because I want to,” he said.

Neuvillette dragged the boat out to the water, then helped you into the boat before getting into it himself. He placed his hand on the side of the boat, and it started moving out on his own.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting—something flashier, perhaps. But this was just like him.

“Shall we take a tour around the lake before going to the tree?” Neuvillette suggested, and you agreed.

The boat moved at a leisurely, peaceful pace. The swans from before glided past your boat, seemingly unperturbed by the new arrivals. Neuvillette pointed out the schools of colorful fish swimming in the depths. You couldn’t see those water veins he mentioned, though. Perhaps they were deeper under the water.

You snapped as many pictures as you could, partly because you wanted to capture all the beauty of this place, but also partly to hide your face from Neuvillette’s stare with the Kamera. Occasionally, he would take a sip from his cup.

You wondered if he realized how unsettling it was. Maybe he was so used to being watched that he had become desensitized to it. You, on the other hand, fidgeted at being the focus of someone’s attention.

At last, you couldn’t take his stare anymore. Your face wasn’t that interesting and you knew it.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, would you like to take a picture of me?”

A breeze blew a strand of your hair against your eyes, and you tucked it behind your ear. Neuvillette’s eyes followed that motion. He didn’t say anything.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” you raised your voice.

He blinked several times, as though he was rousing himself from deep thought. “Pardon me, Madame?”

“I said, would you like to take a picture of me? You’ve been staring at me for too long now. Shall I return the Kamera to you?”

“Have I?” Was it just your imagination, or did the tips of his ears turned red? “I apologize for my discourteous behavior, Madame.”

“I would have thought that you understood how uncomfortable it felt after I did the same thing to you before. Was it enjoyable for you, at least?”

You said the last part sarcastically, but Neuvillette didn’t seem to have picked up on it. “Yes, very much so,” he said sincerely. You gave him a look. “Ah, my apologies, I didn’t realize you were being sarcastic.”

There was a short silence as Neuvillette looked anywhere but you. He took another sip of water. You noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. Was he that flustered?

At last, he spoke again. “May I have the Kamera, then?”

“Sure,” you said, handing it to him. “What are you going to take a picture of?”

“You, of course. Didn’t you offer?”

“Yes, but…never mind, do as you will. It’ll be good to have a picture of me for Lady Furina.”

“Lady Furina?” Neuvillette’s brows knitted together. “Why would I show it to her?”

“For proof of the date. I’m sure she’ll give you a hard time if you have nothing to show for today.”

“Furina,” Neuvillette said, his tone sharp. “Will have no choice but to accept what I say, proof or no proof. Please do not worry yourself about her.”

Neuvillette’s touchiness about this subject was something you were well-acquainted with. It put you on edge as well. But you didn’t feel like arguing about it with him right now.

“How should I pose for the picture? If you want me to smile, then I must refuse. I am not good at smiling on command.”

“It’s fine. I simply want a picture of you. That is what people do on dates, is it not?”

Neuvillette looked around, and his eyes landed on something. The boat moved closer to one of the smaller blue willows growing around the lake. Lakelight Lilies grew in profusion near the roots. The boat turned so that your back was facing the tree.

Neuvillette took a long time with the Kamera, frequently looking up from it. He doesn’t need to take it so seriously, you thought. It’s just a picture. In the meantime, you tried to concentrate on smiling naturally. Despite what Neuvillette said, you wanted to smile for his picture. It was the least you could do.

You thought of all the things that made you happy. The pictures of Remurian ruins in my books, that spot in the woods near my house, the cake my old housekeeper makes for my birthday each year, my comfy reading nook, talking to the Melusines…Neuvillette putting my painting in his office…

“Pfft…” a laugh threatened to burst out of your mouth as you felt the corners of your lips lift. It still made you giddy just thinking about it. Ah, this is so embarrassing…I’m getting too excited over something so trivial…

Click. Click. Click. The sounds of the Kamera went off in succession.

“I thought you said just one picture,” you said.

“My apologies. My finger slipped.”

His finger looked pretty deliberate to you. “I thought the Chief Justice didn’t lie.”

No response. It appeared that you got him.

“Shall we go to the willow tree now?” you said to spare him the awkwardness of having to explain himself.

“…Yes,” Neuvillette nodded.

The boat made for the island at a quick speed. Once it made land, you stepped onto the ground and looked up at the tree in awe. Up close, you could see that the top part of the tree was in fact connected to the base by several thick blue roots. The drooping branches were like droplets of water suspended in air. They covered the entire island and practically blotted out the sky. You could understand why the ancients revered this weeping willow.

You asked Neuvillette for the Kamera back and resumed taking more photos. Unfortunately, there were no traces of any interesting ruins as far as you could see. Maybe they were underwater. Of course all the good stuff is there.

Neuvillette was looking at the branches as well, but not in the way you were looking at them. He was staring at them critically, as though examining them for blight. You remembered what he said about the tree reflecting the state of the waters.

You walked over to him. “Does the Chief Justice’s job extend to inspecting trees?”

“This is one of my duties, although it isn’t entirely related to my position,” Neuvillette said, gazing at a branch. He took it and displayed it in front of you. “Do these leaves look a bit yellow to you?”

You stared at the leaves closely. At first glance, they looked to be a vibrant blue, but comparing them with the leaves on the other branches, they did seem to have a greenish cast.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you said at last. “The color does look a bit different.”

Neuvillette looked thoughtful at your words. “I see,” he began to walk towards the water. “It would not hurt to check the water veins to see if there are any hazards that need to be dealt with.”

“Are you going to go underwater?” you asked, following him.

“Yes, but I promise to make it quick,” Neuvillette stepped into the water, still with all his clothes on, and submerged himself.

You watched him as he swam around. He was quite the swimmer.

It was noon now, so you decided to set the picnic up. You laid down the blanket in the shadiest spot and spread out the food, which consisted of sandwiches, a pie, and of course, plenty of water for Neuvillette. Your stomach was grumbling, but you needed to wait until Neuvillette came back before you could eat.

You sat down on the blanket. In the distance, you could see little cottages here and there. They must be summer houses. Ah, if only you had the money for that.

A pleasant breeze blew. The sunlight shining down through the branches cast your surroundings in a blue light. It felt like you were underwater.

This place was very different from your claustrophobic hometown, where everyone was in everyone’s business, and the big city, where it was easy to get swept into the tide of people and never make it out. Both places have their own charms, but Neuvillette had introduced you to somewhere outside of those two paradigms.

You doubted that you would be able to come here often, but it was nice to know that places like these existed and were accessible.

Just as you decided to go to the edge of the water again to see if you could see Neuvillette again, you spotted a flash of purple out of the corner of your eye. You turned and screamed when you saw what was there.

It was a large, purple beast with a long snout. It was covered in spikes. Its magenta eyes looked oddly familiar, but there was no time to think about that now.

There was a vishap in front of you.

“Neuvillette!” you shouted. “Neuvillette, please get up here! There’s a vishap here!”

There was a loud splash as Neuvillette emerged from the water. You rushed into his arms, hiding your face in his robes. You felt him freeze up.

“What is it, Madame?” he asked urgently. His arms wrapped around you, and he began to stroke your hair. “Are you hurt?”

You pointed behind you with a trembling arm. “It suddenly appeared out of nowhere…”

“Ah, I see…” you heard a note of sternness in his voice. He gently turned you around. “It’s perfectly natural to be scared, but I promise you that no vishap in Erinnyes will ever hurt you.”

You looked up at him. His lilac eyes stared back into yours. You could see the worry in them. You felt your heartbeat settle down.

“Do you trust me?” he suddenly murmured.

“…Of course I do,” you said, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Now that you were no longer scared, the gravity of what you just did came back to haunt you.

“Um…pardon my impertinence, sir,” you said, and nonchalantly stepped away from Neuvillette. Talking with him casually—okay. Holding his hand—questionable, but at times necessary. Pressing yourself against him—the height of shamelessness. Even if you were scared for your life, you had to behave in a dignified manner. I have to remember my place!

He did see you in just a towel, though, a part of your mind whispered. So what does it matter?

Oh, do be quiet! You thought back.

Neuvillette’s hand, which had been on your shoulder, lingered in the air for a moment before dropping. You could feel him looking at you, as though seeking something, but you stared resolutely at the willow’s trunk.

After a moment, Neuvillette went towards the vishap. You heard him say something in a language you had never heard before. He sounded cross. The vishap answered him back. Was it the language of the vishaps? Did Neuvillette have some sort of connection to them?

Oh, now you remembered why the vishap’s eyes looked so familiar. It and Neuvillette both shared the same slitted pupils. Hmm…

“Come here, Madame,” he said to you. You hesitated before obeying and stopped just behind him. Perhaps it was just your imagination, but you thought that the vishap looked a bit ashamed.

“I’ve reprimanded this vishap for frightening you. She shouldn’t have shown itself before you without my presence. She told me that she didn’t mean to surprise you. She came up from the water because she smelled an unfamiliar scent.”

“Oh, she must have smelled the picnic food…”

“She apologizes for the scare,” Neuvillette said. “She hopes you’ll forgive her.”

“Um…I accept…your apology,” you said to the vishap. The vishaps here were supposed to understand human language. “Sorry for screaming.”

Now that everything was cleared up, it was time for lunch. The vishap showed no sign of leaving, so you supposed that it was joining you two as well.

You sat down on the blanket cross-legged, making sure to leave enough space for Neuvillette without having to sit too close to him. He sat down across from you. It took a few moments for him to adjust due to his long spats. He could have worn shorter ones, at least, you thought. Perhaps you should have brought a chair.

“We’ve got tomato and lettuce sandwiches, an apple pie, and water from rivers of Qingce Village,” you gestured at the spread. “I made the sandwiches, and Marie baked the pie.”

“Thank you for your hard work,” Neuvillette said. He picked up one of the sandwiches and bit into it. He closed his eyes.

“Is it good?” you asked nervously as you watched him eat. “I hope it’s not too dry.”

“It’s delicious,” he said after he swallowed. He smiled at you. “You’re a woman of many talents.”

“It’s just sandwiches…” you said. Neuvillette could really go overboard with the compliments sometimes.

“Be that as it may, it was excellently made,” Neuvillette said, then reached for another sandwich. You started eating as well.

“So, Monsieur Neuvillette, how were the water veins?” you asked as you cut a slice of pie after finishing a sandwich. “Did you learn anything from them?”

“Yes, but it is nothing too serious, thankfully. It can be dealt with swiftly,” he said, as he sipped his water. He glanced at you a little, as if wanting to say something else.

“That’s good to hear.”

Before you met Neuvillette, your idea of a Chief Justice’s responsibilities was the same as anyone else’s. You assumed that he mainly dealt with trials and other court matters. But now you were learning that his duties extended beyond that. It made sense, considering he was an ancient being. Just what was Neuvillette, anyway?

The puzzle of his true identity was not something you had ever indulged in before, but now for the first time, you were a little curious.

The vishap was sniffing at the remaining sandwiches. Was she hungry? You picked up a sandwich and held it out to her. “Would you like to try one?” you asked, then turned to Neuvillette. “Sir, can she eat human food?”

“She can,” he said. His voice sounded a bit strange.

You moved your hand closer to the vishap’s mouth. She opened it, revealing rows of sharp teeth. You tried not to recoil. The sandwich disappeared into the mouth.

The vishap blinked her eyes, then made a noise. She seemed happy.

“Hey, that tickles!” you laughed as the vishap licked your hand.

“Ahem,” Neuvillette cleared his throat behind you. The vishap ducked her head.

“Oh, it’s alright, sir,” you waved your hand. “I don’t mind feeding her our food.”

“That is not what was on my mind…” Neuvillette murmured. But he didn’t elaborate any further.

After cleaning up, you and Neuvillette spent the next half hour taking pictures, chatting, and enjoying the scenery. The vishap would occasionally go underwater and bring you treasures like shells and Tidalga, which you carefully tucked away in your purse.

Before long, it was time to leave for Merusea Village.

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[sgiandubh]

Jottings: Season 7, episode 8. Just fucking try me

By TPTB's Sovereign Decree, this season is - as we all know - split in two, which proved to be at the same time abysmally disrespectful to ***'s subscribers, frustrating - to say the least- to Netflixers, but involuntarily prescient, given the current SAG-AFTRA stalemate. The protracted strike scenario (still a possibility) would have truly flunked OL, drowning it in a sea of irrelevance and effectively making all promo impossible. So, let us count our blessings and bide our time: it ain't over till the fat lady sings. For the time being, we are still haunted by Sinéad's moving huskiness. For the sake of speculation only, I wonder if they are going to stick with this option until the official end of Season 7, as an homage of sorts. Or promote somebody else, while time and space are still available to do so.

You are definitely going to need tissues for this one. And any random type of your favorite comfort food. It is intense. It is almost impeccable. SS & RR sketches are tolerably short. S is supercalifragilistic. C is giving it her all and she is just perfect. And all the rest are flawless. So, pardon the sarcasm deficit and perhaps also my less fluid quill: you surely know, by now, my struggle with encomium is real.

The bonnie wee swordsman moment immediately brought to this book outsider's mind the exceptional fanfic author on AO3. So, if you still missed Flood My Mornings, by some obscure glitch in the Matrix, do give it a try. It is one of my top 3 , with #1 being @zeya-zg's TRS (it packs a punch, takes great risks and does so with grace). And yes - blasphemy ensues - the swordsman's fic is simply better than Herself in so, so many ways. A good starting point for a Droughtlander of undetermined amplitude (what in the name of hoo-ha is 'the story continues next year' supposed to mean?), for example. But I digress.

With Saratoga 2.0 in plain, inevitable sight, I incorrectly presumed we would see the blue light mojo - is it in Bees...? more plausibly so - and I am glad C saved JAMMF's finger. My sick mind did try to imagine a mutilated limb at some point in time, failed to do so and had to reboot entirely. I am grateful to the writer for having spared me a potential ordeal, in this respect. I am, however, less grateful to the same writer for butchering up to the point of no return the very delicate scene between Rachel Hunter and Young Ian, who initially fail to get their (impossibly to reach) bearings. It feels contrived at first, reads as injudicious as trying to become proficient in Thai after spending three hours on Duolinguo and jumps on the storyline's windshield out of virtually nowhere. The main weak point of this season (spare SS/RR's endless death row sojourn) has to be the blatant injustice done by the writers to characters I wanted to see and hear more of: the Hunter siblings, Buck Mackenzie and yes, William himself.

Speaking of William, there is an epic but fleeting moment outside Simon Fraser's tent, just after Jamie gives him his tricorn hat, that made me wonder out loud. Who are you, first and foremost, Ellesmere: a courtier? a soldier? a son? All three avatars briefly cross his face and if that is not prowess, I don't know what is. Enthusiastic kudos, again.

Cynical, lunatic, despicable me ugly cried three times in a row. Laudanum. Simon Fraser. The Scottish shores. That is a lot for one single intake.

Spoiler: I must have eaten something that disagreed with me. For such an inconsistent character, Simon Fraser saved his soul with this intense, dignified and subdued moment. There is something akin to a Roman deathbed scene one could perhaps find in Tacitus' Histories, essentially thanks to S's perfectly mastered gravitas. So yes, you can cry for the sudden demise of a secondary character you had no sympathy for and on top of that be surprised by your own tears.

A death that proves instrumental for their return to Scotland. And maybe it is time we acknowledge the simple fact that Scotland never really was just a trope of all this intricate narrative scaffolding, but a character in its own right. It is alive and it prompts the kind of raw, irrational emotions able to make your tears well up all the same in Bilbao, in Vancouver, in Seattle, in Athens or in Cairo. And it doesn't matter if you could not place Inverness on a map before finding out that well, people do disappear all the time, or if you were haunted since forever by majestic visions of glens & lochs. You will fall and you will fall hard, despite all the misgivings and the shortcomings, of which there are many.

We leave them teary-eyed on a boat sailing near the Scottish shores. It is a carefully chosen and very effective parting moment. Overall, this was an excellent half-season, if you chose to ignore Mordor's endless, reckless and soulless bitching. I sometimes wish for all these people to suddenly develop an interest for origami or find another obsessable rookie duo or simply try to be happy on their own. Nothing more, but nothing less.

This Droughtlander will be a massive pain in the rear. Mark me. And I am finally allowed to hope for better sleep patterns. But hey, no regrets: it was worth it, always is. They are worth it. A lot.

Gif choice could only involve a ship. Credit given to @avasetocallmyown. Very elegant :)

[wrongcaitlyn]

do you have any jegulus fic recs??

YES ABSOLUTELY

it's been a bit since i've read jegulus fics bc the solangelo hyperfixation has been so strong but i still have plenty bookmarked!! i'm just going to share my favs of my favs, but i have even more (21 total) bookmarked on my ao3 :)

(also, just gonna put this right here, that i 100% would rec crimson rivers, best friend's brother, and just lovers by bizarrestars, and art heist baby! by otrtbs but i feel like everyone in the jegulus fandom has already read those bc they're pretty much classics, so just know!! i love those fics!! but i'm gonna try and rec some other possibly less known fics here :))

ALSO ALSO - all of these authors have incredible other fics and i highly recommend you check out their entire dashboard!!! for literally every single author on this list. i'm subscribed to all of themjkdf

You Signed Up For This by Solmussa

James and Regulus have a summer fling that they promised their friends they wouldn’t have. Remus and Sirius discover their mutual hatred is just pent-up sexual tension. Dorcas and Marlene are always winning, even when they’re not. It’s a cruel summer for all. first of all i'm extremely attached to this fic bc it introduced me to maisie peters, which led to one of the best concert experiences of my life!! but other than that, this is just so beautifully written, so detailed, and an all-around incredible fic. everything by this author is incredible too!! it's got the perfect balance of angst vs fluff and just summer vibes, which is prob the perfect thing to read right now - anyway, DEF read if you haven't already!!

Mastermind by pieceofchocolate

Regulus Black is the mastermind behind the Liberal party. Unfortunately, he’s never been very good at the more outgoing parts of politics – on a more fortunate note, he has his brother to act as a front figure. Sirius Black has always been the sweetheart of British politics, charming the voters with his wit and charisma. That was until James Potter came around, becoming party leader of his own party, the Leftists. Sirius would probably hate him, if they weren't such good friends. Regulus does not share this problem. Remus Lupin literally just needed a job, and got thrown into the mess of secrets, games and an upcoming parliamentary crisis. With an election around the corner, things are bound to go awry. MCD WARNING but so worth it. like genuinely. it's a painful fic but there's also a good dose of fluff and i enjoyed every single second of reading despite it being politics and.. well, i'm from america so you can probably guess that it was very strange to actually be attached to these characters while they were politicians😭 this one's also so well written and - there are fics where you can just tell that the person cares so deeply about the topic they're writing about, and this is one of them!!! i love finding fanfics where authors are just incredibly passionate about the subject/au OH and it has a taylor swift title. so like. yk it's already gonna be good. (this is also actually one of my favorite songs ever so i was soo excited to read)

blue and yellow skies by alarainai

Quidditch Rivals turned Quidditch Lovers. That's what the world sees them as, at least. Too bad Regulus hates James Potter's guts, and James? Well, it doesn't matter what he feels about their definitely fake, definitely emotionless relationship. c'mon. there had to be one fame au on this list. and i KNOW that this one's sports, but it's so so so fucking good - and i'm gonna be honest, i've read so many of the band au's (there are quite a lot in this fandom, even i've written one) but for some reason i didn't have any of them bookmarked - which tbf, i'm very selective with what i bookmark lmfao but!!! this one is just SO good the plot, the social media aspect, the background wolfstar, just 10/10 fic!!

these violent delights (have violent ends) by damagecontrol

titanic au prepare for pain. MCD warning. but like, the pain is written so well, and it's so heartbreaking, and i literally remember staring at the ceiling after reading this (finishing at like 2 in the morning) and just not being able to think of anything but that ending, and like, you KNOW that you're going to be in pain bc it's a titanic au, but like, GOD it's so good. i genuinely don't even have the words i'm still depressed bc of it (but in a good way)

The Mystery of the Pears by sonwar

In the cave, Regulus doesn’t beg for it to stop. He begs not be left behind, alone. Perhaps this is why, when Kreacher gives one last look over his shoulder and sees terrible, pale hands reaching for his master, he appears in a flash at Regulus’ side, clutches him by the elbow, and Apparates them both out of the cave, directly disobeying his master’s last order. canonverse fic!! and such a lovely au. the romance between them is just so natural, and yet there's still the war going on - but really, it's just so well written, despite all the angst of the war, imo it's just such a feel-good fic. love this one so much.

Only the Brave by Solmussa

A fic about two idiots falling in love (x2 because there's wolfstar, too) during a war, and the sacrifices they'll have to make to survive it. andddd this one's the big one. this one's the one i choose to accept as canon. like. GUYS. THIS ONE'S SO FUCKING GOOD if you haven't already and you're a jegulus fan, you just HAVE to read it like genuinely. the plot is so well-thought out, all of the interludes give these other characters their own stories too, and the angst!!! but also the badassery!!! i can't even explain it but if you want a canonverse war au where jegulus survives and they all win, then, like, this is the one. it's so perfect. prob my fav jegulus fic of all time.

and those r my recs!! hope that you enjoy them, and i have several others in my bookmarks!! i've also written some if you haven't checked those out, but!! happy reading :) thank you for the ask!