#we will get as the years pass and the comments lessen

[vigilante24ish]

Chat GTP, Reviews & Nowadays Readers (A personal opinion).

I honestly find it sad that nowadays, writers have to turn to AI for some vwork validation. Nowadays, many readers do not comment or react to a chapter/book. Instead, they often settle for a like/vote/kudos. When they choose to comment, it is usually to demand an update (if the story has not been renewed/updated for a while).

This leaves many writers (fanfic and not) questioning if their stories are good, enjoyable and so on. Thus, they find comfort in asking an AI system; that surprisingly does a good job.

I was personally recommended to try it after I was questioning a chapter I posted and I found ChatGTP rather helpful. It gave honest reviews, a summary of the details and an "opinion" in the end. (Mind you, I still am against it with AI art and stealing from artists. But story reviews are surprisingly not so bad.)

It's still sad that many writers have turned to a logarithm for validation when back then, there were enough comments to be motivated, and I know you did a good job. (If you are from those who don't need it and publish it just for you. You are a GOAT and admire that.)

[novaursa]

The Flames We Loved (to ignite an ember)

This is one of my darker works. If it's not your cup of tea, skip it. The story gets progressively worse with each chapter. You have been warned.

- Summary: It started with Harrenhal and the year of false spring, where you danced with a dragon trying to calm his flames.

- Pairing: daughter!reader/father!Aerys II Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: to wake a dragon

- Next part: to drink poison

The road back to King’s Landing stretches ahead, dust rising as the royal party moves in a long, winding procession. The capital is still a day’s ride away, but the dread that lingered in Harrenhal hasn’t lessened; if anything, it’s grown thicker with every passing mile. You ride beside Aerys, as he insisted, ahead of the convoy, while the rest of the royal family travels behind in carriages. Rhaella, fragile as always, is with Elia, who holds her children close, her eyes still downcast since the tourney. Rhaegar rides just behind, his indigo eyes ever-watchful, his presence steady but concerned, alongside Ser Barristan Selmy.

Aerys, on the other hand, is animated, more so than you’ve seen him in weeks. His mood seems lighter, and though his words carry the same sharpness, you can tell he’s indulging in the thrill of riding ahead, commanding the attention of his family and his court. His silver hair, wild in the wind, gives him an otherworldly appearance as he rides with you at his side, his grip tight on the reins of his horse.

You do your best to indulge him, as you always do, listening intently as he talks of the past, of old Valyria, of the dragons and their fire. He speaks of conquest, of power, his words becoming more fevered the longer he talks, and you nod in agreement, offering soft reassurances when he looks to you for validation.

“Do you see it, Y/N?” he asks, his voice growing louder as his eyes blaze with fervor. “We are the last dragons. The only ones who can bring this realm to heel. Rhaegar doesn’t understand it, but you… you’ve always known.”

“I see it, Father,” you say, keeping your voice steady, despite the unease that rises within you. “We are the blood of the dragon.”

Aerys smiles, but it’s not a kind smile—it’s twisted, hungry. “Yes. The blood of kings and conquerors. You and I, we are bound by it.”

You glance back over your shoulder, catching Rhaegar’s gaze for just a moment. He’s watching closely, his expression unreadable, but you know he’s listening. He has to be. He’s always listening, always watching, worried over you in ways that he cannot express openly.

But before you can think further, Aerys shifts in his saddle, his voice rising above the steady clatter of hooves and wheels. “Rhaegar!” he calls suddenly, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Come closer, boy. There’s something I wish to discuss.”

The entire royal procession seems to slow, the murmurs of the court growing quiet as they sense something in the king’s tone. Rhaegar, hesitant at first, spurs his horse forward, coming to ride beside you and Aerys. His expression is wary, but he hides it well, his posture composed as he falls into step with his father.

“What is it, Father?” Rhaegar asks, his voice calm, though you can hear the underlying tension.

Aerys looks at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing as though he’s weighing something in his mind. Then, without warning, he shoots the question that freezes the entire procession.

“Tell me, Rhaegar,” Aerys begins, his voice deceptively casual, “do you think your sister is beautiful enough to warm a king’s bed? Perhaps she should stay in mine, where she belongs.”

The words hang in the air, as sharp and shocking as the crack of a whip. The entire royal procession comes to a halt, horses shifting uneasily, the courtiers whispering in stunned disbelief. You feel the blood drain from your face as Aerys’s words sink in, their meaning as clear as the madness in his eyes. He isn’t just making an offhand comment. He’s staking a claim—publicly, in front of his court, in front of Rhaegar.

Rhaegar’s face tightens, his hands clenching the reins of his horse, though he doesn’t speak immediately. You can see the fury in his eyes, the way his jaw works as he struggles to control his temper, to keep himself from doing something rash. But the anger is there, simmering beneath the surface.

“Father…” you begin, trying to defuse the situation, but Aerys’s eyes are on Rhaegar, waiting for his response.

Rhaegar’s voice is cold when he finally speaks, his words measured but sharp. “My sister deserves respect, as does my mother.”

“Respect?” Aerys laughs, the sound brittle and harsh. “Is that what you think this is about, boy? Respect? She belongs to the dragon’s fire, just as I do. You think you can protect her from that?”

“Y/N is your daughter,” Rhaegar replies, his voice hard, though he remains outwardly calm. “You should treat her as such.”

Aerys’s smile fades, his expression darkening as he stares at Rhaegar, his eyes gleaming with the dangerous edge of his madness. “You forget yourself, Rhaegar. I am the king. I will take what is mine, and Y/N… she is mine.”

The words send a chill down your spine, and you realize, with a sickening twist in your stomach, that this is no longer about a father and daughter. Aerys’s madness has twisted even that bond into something warped, something dangerous.

“Father, please,” you say, your voice soft but firm, hoping to calm him as you’ve done so many times before. “Let us continue the journey. We are almost home.”

Aerys doesn’t look at you, his gaze still fixed on Rhaegar, but after a moment, he seems to relent, though his smile is cruel. “Very well,” he says, his voice low. “But remember, Rhaegar… the blood of the dragon runs hotter than you think.”

He spurs his horse forward, leaving you and Rhaegar behind as the convoy resumes its pace, the court still buzzing with the shock of what they’ve just witnessed.

You glance at Rhaegar, your heart heavy with the weight of what just happened, but he says nothing, his jaw clenched in silent fury. You can feel the tension radiating off him, the anger he’s trying so hard to keep in check.

You wish you could say something, anything, to reassure him, but the words catch in your throat. There is no easy answer to the madness that grips your father, no way to untangle the twisted bonds that now bind you both.

Then you decide to urge your horse forward, the dust rising behind you as you ride after Aerys. Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, fall in beside you, their expressions stern but unreadable. Behind you, you can still hear Rhaegar’s voice, tight with frustration and anger.

“Y/N, wait!” he calls, spurring his horse forward to catch up with you. “Don’t go after him.”

You pull your reins slightly, slowing your horse enough to turn and meet his gaze. Rhaegar’s indigo eyes, so like your own, burn with worry and a hint of helpless anger. He knows, just as you do, what Aerys is capable of when left unchecked, but he hates that it’s always you who has to go to him. Always you who must step into the fire.

“I have to,” you reply, your voice soft but steady. “You know how unpredictable he is, Rhaegar. And he left unprotected. Jaime and Ser Gerold will be with me.”

“He’s dangerous, Y/N,” Rhaegar says, his jaw tight. “Every time you go to him, you’re putting yourself at risk.”

“I know,” you say, your heart aching at the way his concern hangs between you like a heavy weight. “But if I don’t go after him, who will? He’ll only grow worse.”

Rhaegar’s hands tighten around the reins, his frustration visible. He opens his mouth as if to argue again, but he knows you’re right. You’ve always been the only one who can calm Aerys when his insanity flares, the only one who can talk him down when his mind spirals out of control.

“I’ll be careful,” you assure him, your voice softening. “I promise.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “None of this should have happened.”

You offer him a small, sad smile before you turn your horse and ride after Aerys, Jaime and Gerold at your side. The dust from the convoy rises in the distance, but you push forward, your heart heavy with the knowledge that you’re walking a dangerous line—one that grows thinner with each passing day.

Rhaegar watches you ride away, his heart twisting with a mixture of anger and regret. He stays behind with the convoy, Ser Barristan Selmy riding beside him. Rhaegar’s face is set in a grim frown, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, still dwelling on what just transpired.

“She shouldn’t have to bear this burden,” Rhaegar mutters, mostly to himself. He shifts uncomfortably in the saddle, his mind racing with thoughts of you. His twin. His other half. “It’s my fault.”

Ser Barristan remains silent for a moment, ever the stoic knight, though his expression is one of quiet concern. “Your Grace,” he says finally, his voice low but calm, “the king’s actions are not your doing.”

Rhaegar lets out a bitter laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Perhaps not directly, but everything I do seems to lead back to him. This… this madness has always been there, sleeping just beneath the surface. I should have known.”

Ser Barristan watches Rhaegar carefully but says nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“When I crowned Y/N as the Queen of Love and Beauty,” Rhaegar begins, his voice softening as he speaks, “I didn’t think… I didn’t anticipate he would react like this. I only wanted to honor her. She is my twin, Barristan. My other half. The bond between us is deeper than anything, despite my marriage to Elia.”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his movements. “I had to do it. It wasn’t about Elia, or even the court. It was about us. I had to honor her in that moment, to show the world what she means to me. But I didn’t think… I never thought Aerys would take it as some kind of challenge. As if I were flaunting her before him.”

Ser Barristan’s brow furrows, his gaze steady as he listens. “The king’s mind is… difficult to predict, Your Grace. No one could have foreseen how he would react.”

“But I should have,” Rhaegar says sharply, his frustration boiling over. “I know how he looks at her, how he treats her. I’ve seen it for years now. And yet, I still made her stand in front of the entire court, in front of him, with that crown of roses on her head. As if I were offering her up to him.”

He shakes his head, his hands tightening on the reins. “I should have known better.”

Ser Barristan watches him closely, his expression thoughtful. “Your Grace, you acted out of love for your sister. There is no shame in that.”

Rhaegar meets Barristan’s gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and anger. “And what good did that love do? It only put her in more danger.”

The silence between them stretches, and Rhaegar turns his gaze back to the road ahead, watching the dust settle in the distance where you’ve disappeared after Aerys. He feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a cloak of iron, the knowledge that every decision he makes seems to bring more chaos, more danger to those he cares about.

“Love should protect,” Rhaegar says quietly, more to himself than to Barristan. “But all it’s done is place her in harm’s way.”

And as he rides in the wake of the royal procession, Rhaegar wonders how much longer he can watch you carry the burden of keeping their father’s instability in check before the fire consumes you both.

You ride through the thickening woods, the trees casting shadows over the path as the light begins to wane. Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Gerold Hightower ride close beside you, their faces grim as they scan the forest for any sign of Aerys. The king’s horse had been found abandoned not far from the convoy, its reins tangled in a low-hanging branch. But Aerys was nowhere to be seen.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a mixture of fear and worry for your father—no matter how dark and manic he has become. He’s unpredictable at the best of times, and the thought of him wandering alone in the woods fills you with a deep sense of dread.

“Princess,” Ser Gerold calls from ahead, his voice laced with concern. “We should stay together.”

“We need to find him quickly,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady, though you feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “He can’t be far.”

The Kingsguard dismounts with you, their eyes scanning the darkening woods, but there is no sign of Aerys, no sound of him. Just the rustle of the wind through the trees and the occasional distant cry of a bird. The stillness makes your heart race with unease.

“Princess, we should call for more men to aid in the search,” Jaime says, his usual confidence tinged with a hint of worry. “The woods are vast, and if he’s wandered too far—”

Before he can finish, you shake your head, your eyes searching the trees ahead. “There’s no time. We’ll find him ourselves.”

Ser Jaime exchanges a glance with Ser Gerold, but they don’t argue. They know better than to question you in a moment like this.

You push forward, dismounting from your horse and moving into the thick of the woods, the underbrush cracking under your boots. Ser Jaime and Ser Gerold follow close behind, calling out for the king, but their voices echo unanswered in the quiet.

“Aerys!” you call out, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain calm. “Father, where are you?”

No response.

The silence presses down on you, your worry deepening with each passing moment. You quicken your pace, desperation creeping into your voice as you call for him again. But the woods remain still, almost eerily so.

Eventually, the search becomes more urgent, and the three of you spread out, though you stay within earshot. The trees loom taller, casting deeper shadows, and the air feels heavier, as if the forest itself knows something is amiss. You push through the thick underbrush, your heart pounding, your mind racing with worry.

Then, just as you begin to lose hope, you catch a glimpse of silver through the trees.

Aerys.

He’s standing in the middle of a small clearing, his back to you, utterly still. His long, wild hair stirs faintly in the breeze, but otherwise, he doesn’t move.

“Father?” you call out softly, your voice barely a whisper as you take a cautious step toward him. There’s something off about the way he’s standing—rigid, almost contemplative, as though he’s lost in thought.

He doesn’t respond.

You swallow hard, glancing back toward where you left Ser Jaime and Ser Gerold, but they’re too far behind now. You’re alone with him in this clearing, and a strange, heavy feeling settles in your chest.

“Father,” you call again, louder this time, trying to keep your voice steady. But still, he doesn’t respond. He stands there, staring at something unseen, lost in a world you can’t reach.

A chill runs down your spine as you approach him carefully, your footsteps soft against the forest floor. You hesitate just a few feet away from him, watching him closely. He seems… different. Calmer, almost, but there’s a stillness about him that unnerves you.

Gently, you reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you touch his arm. The fabric of his sleeve is rough under your fingers, and for a moment, he doesn’t react at all. But then, slowly, he turns his head, his eyes meeting yours.

His gaze is clearer than it has been in months, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you see the father you once knew. The man who loved you, who was proud of you. The madness in his eyes is gone, replaced by something almost… contemplative.

“You came,” he says softly, his voice low and distant. “Of course, you came.”

You nod, your heart aching at the sound of his voice, at the way he’s speaking so lucidly, so unlike the erratic, dangerous king he has become. “I’m here, Father,” you say gently, trying to ground him in the moment, to keep him tethered to reality. “Let’s go back. Everyone’s worried about you.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting away from you, back to the trees ahead. “Do you ever think,” he murmurs, almost to himself, “that the blood in our veins isn’t enough?”

You blink, confused by his words, but you don’t interrupt him. He continues, his voice soft but laced with something darker. “The dragons are gone, Y/N. The fire is gone. All that remains is the ash. And we… we are nothing but the last flickering embers.”

“Father,” you say softly, stepping closer, “you’re tired. Let’s go back to the others. We’ll—”

But before you can finish, he turns to you again, his gaze sharp, cutting. “Do you think I can still bring the fire back?”

Your heart clenches at the intensity of his words, the weight behind them. There’s a lucidity in his voice that sends a chill through you, as though he’s reached some clarity of thought that you aren’t sure you want to understand.

“I—” you start, but the words catch in your throat. You don’t know what to say, how to answer him.

Aerys reaches out, his hand brushing against your cheek in a gesture that once might have been tender, but now feels too heavy, too intense. “I’ve seen it,” he whispers, his voice growing darker, more insistent. “In my dreams. The fire, the dragons, the flames consuming everything. You and I, we will bring it back.”

The dread creeping up your spine becomes impossible to ignore, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sink in. The madness is still there, lurking beneath the surface, but this… this feels different. This feels more menacing.

“Father,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “we can’t bring back what’s lost.”

He leans closer, his eyes gleaming with something dark and terrible. “Oh, but we will, Y/N. The dragons will rise again, and the world will burn.”

You feel a coldness settle in your chest, your body frozen as you realize just how deep his madness runs, how far he’s willing to go to chase the fire he’s lost. And as his hand lingers on your cheek, you know that you’ve given him the one thing you never should have—hope.

And that hope will burn you all.

Aerys’s hand, once resting on your cheek with the faintest memory of tenderness, suddenly tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as his grip turns rougher. Alarm flares in your chest, your pulse quickening as his mood shifts with terrifying speed. The madness in his eyes, the lucid clarity that had given you hope moments ago, is gone.

“Father, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain calm. “We should go back to the others. The court is waiting—”

But he doesn’t release you. Instead, his other hand reaches out, grabbing your arm with a strength that leaves you no room to pull away. His face is inches from yours, and the gleam in his eyes has shifted into something more sinister, something possessive and far beyond the bounds of fatherly affection. His breath is hot against your skin, and dread coils tighter in your gut.

“You think you can calm me, don’t you?” he mutters, his voice low and rough, his lips dangerously close to yours. “You’ve always known how to soothe the dragon. But what if the fire can’t be tamed anymore?”

“Father, stop—” you try, but the words die in your throat as his grip tightens even more, pulling you closer until there’s no space between your bodies.

Aerys leans in, his breath ragged, his lips brushing dangerously close to yours. “I could take you right here,” he whispers, his voice laced with a crude, possessive hunger. “And no one would stop me. Not even your precious twin.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, terror flashing through you as you try to pull away, but Aerys’s hold is iron-strong, his fingers bruising your skin. His lips crash against yours, rough and forceful, his kiss searing in its intensity. You struggle against him, pushing at his chest, trying to break free, but it’s no use. His grip is too strong, his body too close, trapping you.

Panic rises inside you, your mind racing as you try to think of a way out. But then, something shifts. Something inside you stirs, something you don’t understand, but it terrifies you.

A warmth spreads through your chest—a fire, a flicker of something ancient, something primal. You feel it in your blood, a strange heat rising as your struggles falter. The fire pulses beneath your skin, and for a terrifying moment, you wonder if Aerys is right. If the blood of the dragon truly burns hotter in you than you ever realized.

But you can’t let it consume you. You can’t let him take this from you.

With all the strength you can muster, you wrench your face to the side, breaking the kiss as best you can, though Aerys still holds you tight, his breath heavy against your ear.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice dripping with manic glee. “The fire inside you. You can’t deny it.”

You shake your head, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to regain control. “Father, let me go,” you plead, your voice trembling. “Please…”

But he doesn’t relent. His grip remains firm, his body pressing into yours with a possessiveness that makes your stomach churn. You try to push him away again, but your strength is fading, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and the strange fire that continues to stir inside you.

And then, just as you feel like you might break, you hear it.

“Your Grace! Princess Y/N!”

The voice is distant but loud enough to cut through the haze of terror and confusion. Ser Gerold. His shout echoes through the woods, drawing nearer, and for the first time since Aerys’s grip tightened around you, you feel a flicker of salvation.

Aerys stiffens slightly, his grip on you loosening just a fraction as he hears Ser Gerold’s voice. His eyes, wild and fevered, flicker with something—hesitation, perhaps—but the madness remains.

Slowly, reluctantly, Aerys pulls back, though his gaze never leaves yours. His lips curl into a twisted smile, and for a moment, you see a flash of the man who once ruled a kingdom, the man who had once been your father before the insanity consumed him.

“You belong to me,” he whispers, his voice low and sinister, his fingers brushing your cheek one last time before he releases you completely.

You stumble back, your breath coming in sharp gasps as you try to steady yourself. Your heart races, your skin burning from the fire that still lingers in your blood, but you force yourself to stand tall, to not show weakness. Not now. Not in front of him.

Ser Gerold bursts into the clearing, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene before him. His gaze flicks between you and Aerys, concern etched deeply into his features. “Your Grace,” he says, his voice steady but firm, “the procession is waiting. We should return to the others.”

Aerys turns his gaze to Ser Gerold, his smile widening into something cruel. “Of course,” he says, his voice calm, as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened. “Let’s not keep the court waiting.”

He strides past you, his presence still looming even as he moves away, leaving you standing in the clearing with Ser Gerold.

You feel the weight of what just happened pressing down on you, the fire still simmering beneath your skin. But there’s no time to dwell on it. Not here. Not now.

You glance at Ser Gerold, your heart still pounding in your chest. He says nothing, but his eyes tell you enough. He knows something is wrong. He knows what Aerys is capable of.

But for now, all you can do is follow. Follow the man who was once your father but has now become something far more dangerous.

And as you walk back toward the procession, the fire inside you flickers, a reminder of the danger that still lies ahead.

The towering walls of the Red Keep rise before you, imposing and familiar, but today they feel like the walls of a prison. The royal procession halts at the gates, the long journey from Harrenhal finally at its end. The wind carries the scent of the sea from Blackwater Bay. Every member of the convoy can feel it—the unspoken weight that has hung over the journey since that moment in the woods.

Rhaella is the first to emerge from the carriage, frail and silent as she always is, her eyes lowered to the ground. Elia follows, her face calm and composed, though there is a sadness in her gaze as she watches over her children, who are led by their attendants into the Keep. The soft murmurs of the court are drowned by the creaking of the gates as they open to welcome the royal family back home. Yet there is nothing welcoming about it. Not today.

Rhaegar hasn’t taken his eyes off Aerys since the moment you, Jaime, and Ser Gerold rejoined the convoy. His indigo eyes, once filled with only concern for you, now burn with barely contained fury. He rides just behind Aerys as the procession makes its way to the Keep, his jaw clenched, his posture rigid. He doesn’t speak, but the silent intensity in his gaze is enough to communicate his feelings.

He knows.

Perhaps not everything, not the full weight of what happened in the woods, but he knows enough. He’s seen the change in you since you returned. You, who once carried yourself with quiet grace, who always managed to keep your head high no matter how dark things became. Now, as you sit atop your horse, your gaze is distant, lingering on places far beyond the Red Keep, far beyond the court. Your thoughts drift to moments you can’t quite shake—the feel of Aerys’s hand on your skin, the fire that stirred inside you, the kiss that still burns on your lips.

You had tried, on the ride back, to keep yourself composed, to be the same person Rhaegar has always known. But something shifted in the woods, something that cannot be undone. And now, as the convoy comes to a stop, the weight of it presses down on you, suffocating.

Aerys, for his part, seems almost amused by his son’s scrutiny. He dismounts with an exaggerated flair, his robes billowing behind him as he strides toward the entrance of the Red Keep, his lips curled into a smirk. The madness in his eyes, ever-present now, seems to gleam brighter as he turns to look at Rhaegar, who still sits atop his horse, his fists clenched tightly around the reins.

“My son,” Aerys calls out, his voice loud and mocking, “you’ve been so quiet on our journey home. Have you nothing to say?”

Rhaegar’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze flickers briefly to you, and you can see the silent question in his eyes, the concern that he’s held onto since you rode after Aerys. But now, with the court watching, with Aerys looming over them all, he remains silent. There is nothing he can say that will change what has happened. Nothing that will fix what’s been broken.

Aerys laughs, a sharp, brittle sound that echoes against the walls of the Keep. “Ah, but of course. The dragon prince is brooding, as always. So serious, Rhaegar. So noble.” He takes a step toward his son, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “But do not worry, my boy. I’ve taken good care of your sister. She’s quite… precious to me.”

The words hang in the air like a blade, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. Rhaegar’s fists tighten around the reins, his knuckles white, but still he says nothing. He can’t. Not here, not now, not with the court’s eyes upon you.

But you can feel the anger in him, the barely contained rage that is fighting to break out. It’s there in the way he holds himself, in the way his eyes burn as they flicker between Aerys and you. He wants to confront Aerys, to demand answers, to protect you from the twisted madness that has consumed your father. But he knows—just as you do—that there’s nothing he can do. Not without setting the entire court aflame.

Aerys, seeing that his son will not rise to the bait, turns his attention back to you. His smirk softens into something that might have once been affection, but now feels like a cold mockery of it. “My daughter,” he says, his voice softening just enough for the court to sense something wrong, “you look so far away. Is the journey weighing on you, or perhaps something else?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your voice feels trapped in your throat, the words tangled in the weight of what has happened. Instead, you lower your gaze, avoiding the eyes of the court, of Rhaegar, of Aerys himself. You want nothing more than to disappear, to escape the suffocating gaze of your father and the haunted look in your twin’s eyes.

Aerys chuckles to himself, as if your silence is all the answer he needs. He turns back to the Red Keep, his madness gleaming in every step he takes as he strides toward the entrance. “Come,” he calls over his shoulder. “There is much to discuss. The dragons are stirring, and the fire is not yet done with us.”

The court begins to move again, following the king into the Keep, their whispers rising like a swarm of bees. You stay where you are for a moment longer, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you, before finally dismounting your horse.

Rhaegar is at your side in an instant, his voice low and urgent. “Y/N, what happened?”

You shake your head, unable to meet his gaze. “Not here,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Not now.”

Rhaegar clenches his jaw, frustration and concern mingling in his expression, but he doesn’t push further. He knows you well enough to see that something has changed, that whatever happened in the woods has left a mark on you that won’t easily fade. But he also knows that here, in the heart of the Red Keep, with Aerys watching, there is nothing either of you can say that will make a difference.

And so, as the court files into the Keep, you walk beside your brother in silence, the weight of the past few days hanging heavy between you.

Inside, Aerys’s laughter echoes through the halls, a sound that chills you to the bone.

The night air in the Red Keep is cooler than usual, a slight breeze slipping through the cracks in the stone walls, carrying the faint smell of the sea. Rhaella sits quietly at the edge of her bed, her posture weary and her eyes distant, as if lost in thought. The flickering candlelight casts uneven shadows over her face, deepening the lines of stress and sorrow that have long etched themselves into her features. You stand beside her, helping her handmaidens prepare her for bed, each movement methodical, as though the routine itself might bring some small sense of peace to the both of you.

Her handmaidens work silently, loosening the ties of her gown and brushing her hair with gentle care. You assist where you can, your fingers nimble as you fasten the ties of her nightdress. There’s a heaviness in the room, the kind of weight that clings to every breath, pressing down on your chest. It’s more than just the usual sadness that follows Rhaella. This time, it feels sharper, more personal.

Rhaella looks up at you suddenly, her voice quiet, almost fragile. "My sweet daughter... I never wanted this for you."

You pause, the sound of her voice catching you off guard. You glance at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes filled with a grief that you hadn't fully seen before. You continue brushing her hair, though your mind lingers on her words.

"It won’t be, Mother," you say softly, your tone firm despite the undercurrent of doubt tugging at you. "I won’t let it."

The room feels colder, more oppressive, as if the very walls are listening. Rhaella's eyes shift to the floor, her hands resting limply in her lap. “You don’t understand,” she whispers, barely audible. “I’ve known for a long time.”

Your hands still in her hair, the brush halting mid-stroke. A chill runs down your spine, and you lower the brush, setting it aside. The room seems to narrow in focus, the weight of her words settling heavily between you.

“Knew what, Mother?” Your voice is low, but steady. You’ve always sensed there was more to her silence, more to the way she looked at you after Aerys’s moods turned. But this… this feels like a confession.

Rhaella lifts her gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He’s… always been like this. Since before you were born. I knew what he was capable of. I hoped… I prayed it wouldn’t fall on you, that you would be spared from it.” She swallows hard, her throat tight with emotion. “But I saw the way he looked at you when you were young. How he doted on you. And I did nothing.”

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest. You take a step back, your mind racing to catch up. She knew. She had known for years, perhaps all your life, and yet she had said nothing. Done nothing. The realization stings in a way you weren’t prepared for, your trust in her, in the safety of her presence, beginning to fray.

“You knew he’d—” You can’t finish the thought, the reality of it too harsh to voice.

“I tried,” she says, her voice cracking. “I tried to protect you, but I was too weak. I’ve always been too weak.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding, your throat dry. The pieces begin to fit together in ways they hadn’t before—the long, silent looks, the way she never interfered when Aerys’s madness would turn toward you. She had known all along, had been watching it happen, and still, she had stayed silent.

You want to be angry. Part of you is. But another part of you feels something far worse: sorrow. For her. For what she’s endured in her own right.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though the question feels heavy, like it’s been years in the making.

Rhaella’s hands tremble as she grips the edge of the bed. “Because I thought… I thought I could manage him. That if I could survive it, so could you. That maybe, just maybe, he would spare you from the worst of it.” Her breath shudders as she exhales. “But he never stopped.”

Her words hang in the air, suffocating in their rawness. You sit beside her, unsure of what to say. There’s a silence between you, but it’s not empty. It’s filled with years of unspoken truths, of a shared pain that you both have carried in different ways.

“I won’t let him take me,” you say again, but this time, it feels like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as her. The weight of what she has revealed, of what you now know, is almost too much to bear.

Rhaella turns toward you, her hand resting lightly on yours. “I know you’re strong,” she whispers, her voice soft. “Stronger than me. But the fire in him… it consumes everything. And I fear it will take you, too.”

You squeeze her hand gently, but your gaze is still distant, your mind wandering to dark places. You’re no longer sure what the future holds, no longer certain of how to protect yourself from the fire that burns in your father, that burns in your blood.

The silence stretches between you both, filled with the weight of her revelation and the uncertainty of what comes next. The candles flicker, casting shadows that seem to dance along the walls, and for the first time, you truly feel the enormity of what you’re up against.

And what you might yet become.

The heavy doors to Aerys’s chambers creak as they swing shut behind Rhaegar, sealing him in with the man who once commanded kingdoms, and now rules over nothing but ruin and fear. Aerys is sitting at a large table near the far side of the chamber, his silver hair catching the flicker of the flames as he absentmindedly twirls a goblet in his hand. He doesn’t bother to look up when Rhaegar enters, but a low chuckle escapes him, as if he’s been expecting this confrontation all along.

"So, you've come, my brooding son," Aerys says, his voice tinged with amusement. “You’ve been glaring holes into my back ever since we returned.” He doesn’t look at Rhaegar, doesn’t acknowledge the burning fury that sits beneath the surface of his son’s calm demeanor. Instead, he tilts the goblet back and takes a slow sip of wine, savoring the moment. “And here I thought you’d lost your nerve."

Rhaegar stands in the center of the room, his hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. He’s been waiting for this moment ever since they returned to King’s Landing, ever since the ride back when he saw you, his sister, his twin, returned from the woods changed in a way that terrified him. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge of controlled fury in it as he speaks.

“I came for answers, Father,” Rhaegar says, his gaze locked on Aerys. “This can’t go on.”

Aerys finally looks up, his eyes gleaming with something sharp, something mocking. “Answers? From me? How quaint. What answers could I possibly give you, my dear boy, that would satisfy your precious sense of honor?” He leans back in his chair, still twirling the goblet, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’ve always been so noble, Rhaegar. So virtuous. It’s tiresome.”

Rhaegar’s jaw tightens, his patience wearing thin. “This is not about me,” he says, his voice firm. “This is about Y/N.”

Aerys’s smirk falters, just for a moment, and something flickers in his eyes—something darker, more dangerous. His grip on the goblet tightens, and he slowly sets it down on the table, the air in the room growing heavier with each passing second.

“Ah, Y/N,” Aerys says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “My daughter. Your twin. So precious, isn’t she?”

Rhaegar feels the weight of Aerys’s words, the way his father speaks of you not with affection, but with something twisted, something possessive. His heart pounds in his chest, and for the first time since entering the room, he feels a thread of fear for what comes next. But he pushes it down, refusing to let Aerys see it.

“She is my sister,” Rhaegar says, his voice low, controlled. “And you… you’ve gone too far.”

Aerys’s mood shifts instantly. The amusement that had colored his voice just moments ago vanishes, replaced by something far more volatile. He rises from his chair, slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving Rhaegar’s.

“Too far?” Aerys repeats, his voice dripping with venom. “I am the king. I decide what is too far.” His face twists into a sneer, and he takes a step toward Rhaegar, the air between them crackling with tension. “You think you can dictate to me what I can and cannot do? You, with your brooding silences and your pretty songs? You are nothing compared to me.”

Rhaegar stands his ground, though every instinct tells him to step back. “She is your daughter,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes burning with anger. “And you’ve defiled that bond. You’ve—”

“Enough!” Aerys’s voice thunders through the room, his fury boiling over in an instant. He closes the distance between them with terrifying speed, his face inches from Rhaegar’s. His breath is hot, his eyes wild with the insanity that has been growing for years, and now seems to burn brighter than ever.

“You dare speak to me of bonds, boy?” Aerys spits, his hands shaking with rage. “You, who crowned her as Queen of Love and Beauty in front of the entire realm, as if she were yours to give? You think I didn’t see it, Rhaegar? The way you look at her? She may be your twin, but she belongs to me.” He grabs Rhaegar’s tunic, pulling him closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “She is mine, and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

Rhaegar’s blood runs cold at his father’s words, but he doesn’t flinch. He refuses to let Aerys see the fear rising in his chest, the rage that threatens to consume him. Instead, he speaks, his voice trembling with barely controlled anger. “She is not yours. She never was.”

Aerys’s grip tightens, his eyes gleaming with unhinged fury. “You think you know what power is, Rhaegar? You think you understand what it means to be a dragon?” His voice is laced with sharpness now, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “But you don’t. You never have. You’ve always been too soft, too weak. And now, you’ll see what true power is. The fire burns inside her, and soon, it will burn the whole world.”

Rhaegar’s eyes narrow, his heart pounding in his chest. “You’re mad.”

Aerys releases him, stepping back with a manic laugh that echoes through the chamber. “Mad?” he repeats, his voice rising. “Mad? No, my son. I am the last dragon. And soon, all of Westeros will see it. The fire will rise again, and I will be the one to bring it back. With her by my side.”

Rhaegar’s hands clench into fists at his sides, his entire body trembling with anger. He had come here to confront his father, to demand answers, but now, standing in the face of Aerys’s instability, he realizes just how deep his father’s delusions have gone. There’s no reasoning with him. No calming him.

But he won’t let you be consumed by it.

“You won’t touch her again,” Rhaegar says, his voice low and filled with quiet fury. “I won’t let you.”

Aerys’s laughter dies in his throat, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer once again. “You?” he sneers, his voice filled with contempt. “You think you can stop me?”

Rhaegar holds his gaze, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

But he won’t back down. Not now. Not when you’re the one at stake.

“I will,” Rhaegar says, his voice steady. “I will protect her. Even if it means protecting her from you.”

You were on your way to your chambers when the unmistakable sound of shouting reached your ears. It started as a distant noise, but the more you walked, the clearer it became—voices raised in anger, the unmistakable clash of something breaking, perhaps glass or furniture. Your heart lurches in your chest, the unsettling feeling of dread creeping up your spine as you realize the sound is coming from the king's chambers.

And then you hear Rhaegar’s voice.

Without thinking, your feet carry you toward the source of the commotion. The hall outside Aerys's chambers is a flurry of panic, servants moving quickly with wide, frightened eyes, whispering to one another in hushed tones. Some look on in horror, while others keep their heads down, too afraid to even glance in the direction of the king’s door. You push past them, the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

"Princess, it's not safe—" one of the servants tries to warn you, but you barely hear him as you push through the entrance, your mind focused on the chaos unfolding before you.

Inside the king’s chambers, the scene is far worse than you could have imagined.

The room is in disarray. A chair lies shattered against the far wall, its pieces scattered across the floor. The bed curtains are torn down, ripped apart in fury. Glass from a broken decanter glitters like stars on the stone floor, and there’s a dark stain where wine has soaked into the rug. But it’s not just the destruction that sends a jolt of fear through you—it’s the sight of your father and brother at the center of it.

Aerys stands near the far end of the room, his face contorted in fury, his hands covered in blood, streaked from where he’s clearly cut himself during his rampage. His hair, wild and tangled, sticks to his face as his chest heaves.

Rhaegar stands a few paces away, his face equally flushed with anger, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He looks like he’s barely holding himself back, his body trembling with the effort it takes to restrain his rage. The anomasity between them crackles in the air, thick and suffocating, as if the entire room could erupt into flames at any moment.

"You’ve gone too far!" Rhaegar’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and filled with fury. "You’ve disgraced us all!"

Aerys lets out a high, mocking laugh, but it’s tinged with something far more dangerous. "Disgraced? Me? You dare speak of disgrace, boy? I am the king!" His voice is a rasping snarl, filled with venom as he hurls something across the room—a golden goblet that crashes into the wall just inches from Rhaegar’s head.

Rhaegar doesn’t flinch, but the sight of it, the unhinged aggression in Aerys’s every movement, sends a chill down your spine.

Rhaegar takes a step forward, his voice low and filled with barely controlled rage. "You’re not a king anymore," he says through gritted teeth. "You’re a madman."

Aerys's face twists in rage, and before you can stop him, he lunges at Rhaegar, his hands reaching out as if to strike him. But Rhaegar is quicker, stepping back just in time to avoid the blow. The movement sends Aerys off balance, and he stumbles, his bloodied hands catching the edge of a table before he rights himself, breathing heavily, his eyes wild with fury.

Rhaegar turns on his heel without another word, storming out of the room and pushing past you, his expression dark with anger and frustration. His shoulder brushes against yours, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back. The door slams behind him, the echo of it ringing through the now-silent room.

Aerys stands alone in the wreckage, his hands trembling as he looks down at the blood smeared across his palms. For a moment, the room is eerily still, and you can see the madness flickering in his eyes, the rage threatening to explode again.

The instinct to leave, to flee from all of this, rises within you. Every fiber of your being tells you to go, to follow Rhaegar and escape before Aerys’s temper turns on you. But something else keeps you rooted in place, a sense of duty, of love tainted by years of pain and suffering. No matter how far he has fallen, Aerys is still your father.

“Father,” you say softly, taking a step toward him, though your heart races with fear.

Aerys doesn’t respond, his eyes still fixed on his bloodied hands, his breathing uneven. He’s shaking now, not just from anger, but from something deeper, something broken inside him. You move closer, reaching out tentatively, your fingers brushing against his arm.

“It’s over now,” you murmur, your voice gentle as you try to bring him back from the edge. “You’re bleeding. Let me help you.”

At your touch, Aerys’s body jerks, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he turns to you, his wild eyes meeting yours with an almost childlike desperation. His chest heaves with uneven breaths, and for a moment, you see the man he once was—lost, confused, clinging to something that no longer exists.

His bloodied hands, trembling, reach for you, his fingers tangling in your hair, smearing crimson across your face. He clings to you as though you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to reality, his grip tight, almost painful.

“You’re all I have left,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Don’t leave me.”

Despite the way your instincts scream at you to pull away, to escape, you remain still, your heart aching for the man who used to be your father. “I’m here,” you whisper, your voice trembling as his blood stains your skin, your hair. “I won’t leave.”

Aerys leans his head against your shoulder, his grip tightening as if you’re the only solid thing in a world that has long since crumbled around him. His blood smears across your cheek, warm and sticky, but you say nothing, simply holding him as he clings to you, his body shaking with the remnants of his fury.

And in that moment, despite everything—despite the fear, despite the madness—you are his daughter. You are the only thing he has left, and though it terrifies you, you cannot abandon him.

Not yet.

Aerys’s breathing gradually slows, the trembling in his body subsiding as he clings to you, his bloodied hands now steady but still tightly gripping you as if you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. His head rests heavily against your shoulder, his matted silver hair brushing your cheek, and for a moment, the rage and madness that have consumed him seem to fade, leaving behind only a broken man.

But his touch, once erratic, becomes more intimate, his fingers slowly trailing from your hair down to your neck, where they linger for a moment too long. The warmth of his blood is still sticky on your skin, the sensation making your stomach churn, but you remain composed. His fingers brush lightly against the soft skin of your throat, and for a brief, fleeting moment, a chill runs down your spine, as if the very air around you has grown cold.

You can’t help but imagine the weight of a blade there, the sharpness of metal slicing through the delicate skin of your neck, blood pouring freely. The thought lingers, unbidden, like a shadow of something yet to come. You push it away, forcing yourself to stay focused, to remain calm.

“Father,” you murmur softly, your voice a soothing lull in the quiet of the room. “You need to rest.”

Aerys’s grip loosens slightly, but his hand remains at your neck, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the pulse point there as if seeking comfort in the rhythm of your heartbeat. The sensation is unnerving, but you do not flinch. 

The servants finally enter the chamber, their footsteps careful and silent as they move to clean up the wreckage. None of them dare to look directly at you or Aerys, their heads lowered as they step around the broken glass and overturned furniture. The room is a mess of destruction—wine spilled across the floor, splintered wood, and blood smeared on the walls from where Aerys had lashed out in his rage.

You remain still as the servants work, Aerys still clinging to you, his hand now resting on your shoulder, his touch too familiar, too intimate. You can feel something stirring inside you again, that strange, unsettling warmth that rises whenever you are near him, like a flame waiting to be ignited. It’s the same fire you felt in the woods, the same fire that terrifies you.

But now, you use it, channel it to keep your composure.

Aerys’s hand moves from your shoulder, his fingers trailing down your back in slow, deliberate strokes. His touch is no longer frantic, no longer violent, but it is far too intimate for comfort, far too close. You fight the urge to pull away, to distance yourself from him, but you know better. You must keep him calm. You must be the one who controls the situation.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Aerys begins to relax completely, his body sagging against yours as exhaustion overtakes him. His grip on you loosens, and his breathing becomes deeper, more rhythmic. You continue to whisper soothing words to him, your hand gently stroking his hair as you coax him into a peaceful sleep.

His eyes close, and after a few more moments, you are certain he is asleep.

Carefully, you extricate yourself from his grasp, your movements slow and deliberate so as not to wake him. You feel his blood still staining your skin as you rise from the bed, sticky and warm against your face and neck. You glance around the room, the servants still cleaning in silence, their heads bowed, and you make your way toward the door as quietly as possible.

Just as you reach the door, one of the servants finally lifts her gaze, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the sight of you—your face smeared with Aerys’s blood, your hair tangled and stained red. For a moment, she looks horrified, but she quickly lowers her gaze again.

“I’ll draw a bath for you, Princess,” she says quietly, her voice trembling slightly.

You nod, though you say nothing. The weariness in your bones is overwhelming, the weight of the night pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You leave the chamber without a word, your footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors as you make your way to your own chambers.

As you walk, the sensation of Aerys’s touch lingers on your skin, and though you’ve done your duty, you can’t shake the feeling that something dark and terrible is creeping ever closer.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Okay here we go

Does Stanfraud's eye still bleeds, like when Bill was possessing Ford or doesn't because of his bigger connection to Ford's body?

Is Stanfraud an uncle/big brother figure to Soos, like Stanley is his dad figure? Does Bill even care about him even a little😢

I know that the main focus of this au is on Bill, but since Stanley didn't try to pretend to be Ford, how did Stanley's and Filbrick's first meeting went after the whole "getting kicked out" thing"? Especially since both Stan and Ford were definitely broke at the time

You mentioned that Bill still has access to a little portion of his powers, what are they exactly?

Anyway your au is genuinely awesome and seeing it on my dash is always a huge treat 💛💛💛

Okay the first question I really want to answer because I’ve been thinking about this:

— His eye definitely bleeds on occasion. Even though he is far more connected to Ford’s body here, he’s still a demon possessing a host. He shouldn’t be there. There’s some outer force keeping him trapped. So I have thought about the fact there would probably be some lasting impacts on the body due to possession exposure for so long, such as the eye bleeding becoming a regular problem and gradual loss of vision in that eye. There may also be other physical impacts, but I’ll work on those when I manage to get down an official design for him.

— Great News! He is like Soos’ weird uncle! That may be where he learned to be somewhat decent around kids, honestly. He absolutely tried to mess with him at first, make jabs, tell him the date of his death, attempt to drive him to madness just a little (this is why Stan had to get rid of the last handyman), but Soos proved to be incorruptible and took all of Stanfraud’s weirdness in stride. Bill does end up caring about him. He goes as far as to liking their conversations. Soos keeps up with his chaos! Even Bill isn’t sure what’s going on in that head of his (when he gets his own body back he’s going to find out).

— Though Bill is the main focus of the plot-change, the other aspects are equally as important and so I’m glad they also have people’s interest! Their first meeting is… tense, to say the least. If Filbrick has any regrets, which I think I’ll leave up to interpretation, he’s far too stubborn a man to show them, and would rather dig himself further into a hole than admit he made a mistake. Stan desperately just wants to ignore all the scathing comments and get this little reunion over with, until Filbrick makes a comment about Ford, then Stan snaps. You can insult him, he probably deserves it, but not his brother. Sure, they may not be his brother right now, but the intent is there, and that’s what counts.

It cuts everything short, with Stan grabbing Fraud and telling him they’re leaving (He doesn’t complain).

With Filbrick, I do kind of want to explore their dynamic over the years while he’s still alive, especially with Stan, but also with how he’d treat ‘Ford’ and his odder behaviour. I don’t want to just make Filbrick a one-dimensional character though, as I think there’s a lot to be said about the cycle of abuse and parental projection so. While the AU may be based around the question ‘what if Bill got stuck possessing Ford?’ The answers it has lead me down a lot of different paths to explore — such as this!

— The powers he has access too lessen over time, but currently he is somewhat capable of seeing potential future outcomes (ciphervoyance), pyrokinesis, telekinesis, faster healing factor and teleportation. Note that all of these are in a much weaker state and drain Ford’s body and by extension Bill heavily — especially teleportation. Doing that once can cause him to pass out, so it’s more of an emergency thing, most his abilities are honestly. Too much focus is required.

And I’m so happy to be a little treat on your dash!! I hope you enjoy all this just as much!

[augment-techs]

The Ranger Wikia Billy/Skull Introduction:

Skull and Bones is the queer ship between Billy Cranston and Eugene "Skull" Skullovitch from Boom! Comics Power Rangers and Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, etc.

Canon:

In the original live action series Mighty Morphin Power Rangers they were often at odds with each other as bully vs nerd, natural enemies; but as the series progressed they developed a sort of mutual worry/tolerance for each other. Throughout the original series and carrying on through over thirty years they were known to constantly be within each other's orbit, albeit often only in passing. During the Alien Rangers series, it was implied that they were friends before reaching middle school, but scholastic and personal differences took them in different directions.

In the Comic series, they were shown in Go Go Power Rangers issue #3 to have been best friends in grade school with the implications being that something went wrong due to Billy developing some sort of superiority complex that Skull wasn't willing to tolerate. Bulk and Skull were prone to throwing water balloons at Billy--but he was not special in this, as they also did it to other Angel Grove students. Billy was a target of other such annoyances, but never absolute violence and Skull was seen on multiple occasions trying to lessen Bulk's provocations and aggressions--even outright trying to talk Bulk out of his targeting Billy so often in the aftermath of the Blue Ranger saving Skull from being crushed under fallen construction debris and commenting that Skull was not "just like a Ranger" when Skull tried to ingratiate Bulk and himself to him, claiming, "Rangers see everything." Which lead to Skull making an effort to change for the better moving forward.

In the World of the Coinless Universe, Billy was taken out by Drakkon very quickly in the aftermath of taking over the world and it was implied that Skull took up his duties as a spy soon after.

Moments:

Skull trying to apologize/excuse his and Bulk's behavior towards Billy after a fight where Billy yells at him about the reasons why Bulk and Skull seem to enjoy humiliating him, with the belief it's because he's smarter than them. Skull rebukes this by claiming it was only because he acted like he was smarter than them.

The Blue Ranger saving Skull from being crushed under debris and the subsequent conversation that leaves the both of them somewhat changed in little ways moving forward.

Coinless Skull being at the old abandoned Juice Bar with the other Coinless to greet the Prime Universe Billy, Trini, and Zack to get them up to speed on what was happening in their dimension after having gotten Coinless Zack out of the palace (possibly) without blowing his cover. He made it possible for the Rangers to rescue Ninjor, despite it leading to his own sacrifice.

Billy observing Skull's introducing Candice Clark (aka Zelya of Eltar) to Bulk as "Kinda my girlfriend...Kinda." With Kim being curious as to what was happening with Billy calling the situation "mutually assured destruction".

Skull performing 'bunny ears' behind Billy's head during a photoshoot for the homecoming dance.

Skull and Billy both being in attendance for Tommy's funeral; both brought to tears.

Billy not at all being surprised when Skull's first canonical girlfriend in the comic series turned out to be an alien spy. Disconcerted, but not surprised.

Children:

In the original series canon, Skull was father to son Spike Skullovitch, mother unknown.

Billy Cranston in the Once & Always special became guardian to Trini's daughter Minh alongside Zack Taylor.

Quotes:

"You're, like, my best friend. And besides...Skull And Bones protect the galaxy, right?" -Pre-Teen Billy Cranston, Go Go Power Rangers #3.

Skull: "Billy, all the stuff we do, we're just...ya know, messing around..." Billy: "Messing around? You make every day of my life a living hell. And why, because I'm smarter than you?" Skull: "...No, it's because you've always acted like you are." -Go Go Power Rangers #3

Skull: "My buddy Bulk and I, we're a lot like you..." Blue Ranger: "Are you? Because Power Rangers see everything." Skull: "Um..." Blue Ranger: "Everything." Skull: "...Oh." -Go Go Power Rangers #4

"Everyone always tells me how smart I am. But you know what comes with being smart? Fear. If there's an undesirable outcome--no matter how minor--trust me, I find it." -Billy Cranston, Go Go Power Rangers #6

Skull: "Hey, Bulk, maybe we lay off of Billy for once?" Bulk: "Is it my fault he makes it so easy? Buddy, if we don't challenge him, who will?" -Go Go Power Rangers #10

Behind the Scenes:

"I wanted to be Billy!! I just wanted to be Billy, that's all I wanted!!" -Jason Narvy, Power Rangers Q&A at ConnectiCon 2015.

Songs:

"The Next Time I Fall" by Peter Cetera and Amy Grant.

Fanon:

It is considered a rarepair by the general fandom that simply coasts by while looking through the original Mighty Morphin Power Rangers fanfiction or fanart. However, in the comic fandom, it is the pairing with the highest number of fics and does fairly well among fanartists.

Oftentimes, the fandom ships the pair in a fix-it fic, hurt/comfort, angst and fluff capacity. Childhood friends to Enemies to Lovers is a common trope, and when it comes to the Coinless Universe, there is the exploration of the What If scenario of Billy surviving, Haunting as a Grid Ghost, or Resurrection.

People most often claim to have started shipping for them very late into the third season of the original MMPRs or the third issue of the GGPR comic.

-Romantic: Nine times out of ten the relationship is walked into with a slow burn or excited utterance on the part of either Billy or Skull. Consistently is not often found in the fandom at large, except among the writers who advocate for them most often. -Friendship or Family: There have been no family centric works for them, but friendship is sometimes touched down on in Skull making an effort to change from being a bully or Billy finding himself feeling somewhat abandoned by his Ranger friends or out of sorts from his time on Aquitar.

Fandom Fic Recs:

You Stick To Me Like Glue (You Leave Your Residue) by crawfishing

Blow A Kiss (Fire A Gun) You Just Need Someone To Lean On by Twilight_Shadow_Songs 

chill me, thrill me, fulfill me by CampionSayn 

Petals Dipped in Ink by Skyland2704

I Had To Shake It Off, But I Got Stuck! (oh my god) by crawfishing

Considerations and Wishes and Misses by Twilight_Shadow_Songs

(let's keep dancing on the) broken glass by CampionSayn 

Skull and Bones by Danni221B

In the Moment/It's All That Matters by Ajgrey9647

Wingmanning Himself Into A Locker by Twilight_Shadow_Songs

younger in October // sadness comes in May by CampionSayn

The Colour Palette for our Bond by Skyland2704

I Missed You, And Almost Missed You Again by Twilight_Shadow_Songs 

i put that record on just to make a sound by sapoeysap 

Connecting Touches by Ajgrey9647

@skyland2703 on tumblr/AO3

@lordkingsmithlordkingsmith on tumblr/Twilight_Shadow_Songs on AO3

@ajgrey9647ajgrey9647 on tumblr/AO3

@sunflowerpirateart on tumblr

@felonius-glitch on tumblr

@augment-techs on tumblr/campionsayn on AO3

Trivia:

Billy Cranston started working for Promethea behind his Ranger friends' backs and at one point was almost kicked out of being a Ranger during the events just before the Eltarian War Arc in the comics, which gave off the impression that he was both depressed and willing to take his punishment without much of a fight. This ran parallel with Skull's desperation to find his kind-of-girlfriend, looking into every nook and cranny throughout Angel Grove, despite her actually being perfectly safe and merely bailing on him without any kind of explanation for her actions. Both of them were undergoing new changes and revealing deeper parts of themselves the further into the Arc the comic went.

Skull can play piano and a couple other instruments in both the original series and in the comics. However, in the original series he was ashamed to be known for specializing in classical piano until Adam Park talked him into playing in the school talent show; in the comics it was revealed through the Instagram Alternative Covers that he openly plays where people can see him and appreciated immensely.

Billy created a backup system in the Command Center in the event that Zordon's tube was ever destroyed, which then had him transferred to a robot body he created within Promethea without Grace Sterling's knowledge. This allowed him to fight during the ending of the Eltarian War Arc and confront Lord Zedd (aka Zophram of Eltar) and Zartus of Eltar about a ruse that was the reason the two had become mortal enemies.

In an Annual for the MMPR comics, Bulk and Skull were both given never-before-seen Power Coins by Zordon due to the sage having no other choice but to recruit them to save the other Rangers from a monster that had devoured the entire group. Bulk became the Purple Mighty Morphin Ranger and Skull became the Orange Mighty Morphin Ranger. Their memories were erased without any thanks at all, despite their getting the job done, with the implication that this was not part of canon events for the timeline. However, in the Charge to 100 comic event, the artist Dan Mora featured them in a massive poster of all canon Rangers throughout the television and comic series, which gives alternative implications for many of the Rangers featured.

In the comics, Bulk and Skull are merely interested in maintaining a journalistic podcast of the Rangers in their battles against Rita and have thus far given no implication of wanting to unmask them.

The Coinless Universe version of Billy Cranston died before the age of twenty-one, with Lord Drakkon having either shot or stabbed him right through the heart while Billy was defending the Coinless Trini. Among the Coinless Rangers, only Billy's coin never fell into Drakkon's hands.

Billy lobbied for Matthew Cook to be the Blue Ranger during the Go Go Power Ranger's Infiltrator Putty Arc, and lobbied for Matthew again when he obtained the Green Dragon Coin for Grace Sterling's New Green Ranger.

In the World of the Coinless, Skull was the only spy working espionage within the Red Sentry ranks of Drakkon's army. When Drakkon was banished to a prison dimension, he was moved up the ranks to Brigade Commander, which made him 8th in Command of the entire sentry army.

In the Darkest Hour Arc, Bulk and Skull--as well as Ernie--were some of the few human individuals to sign up for Promethea training to protect Earth in the even that the Rangers failed/were possessed by Dark Specter. They were also allowed into the Command Center, though were never let in on the Ranger's identities in spite of already being involved in fights against invading forces with Jason vouching for them.

I totally forgot I had this on the backburner for @skyland2703 and had it here in drafts the whole time.

[hurlumerlu]

I find it quite simple

a little Not Me fic about Gumpa and Black (sort of) bonding over being older siblings :

It was an evening like many others. Yok and Gram had already left, Sean with one of them, or both of them, or off to one of Namo’s haunts, leaving Gumpa to clean the table like a dissatisfied housewife. Except this time, Black was still here.

"These fuckers, I swear," he said, contemplating the wasteland of dirty plates and empty bottles, unlit cigarette already firmly in mouth. "This is how you can tell they’re all only children."

Gumpa almost pointed out that Black generally didn’t stick around to help either, but decided against it : the kid talking about anything else than their next move was a rare enough occurrence. Better not nip it in the bud.

"I don’t know about that," he mused instead. "My younger brother has three siblings and I don’t think he’s picked up after himself even once in his life."

"That’s what elder siblings are for."

"Ha ! Good thing my sisters didn’t see it that way. I would have gone mad, always taking care of a four-people mess all by myself."

"Aren’t you taking care of a five-people mess right now ?"

"You’re helping me, aren’t you ?"

Black snorted. They’d brought the dishes to the courtyard and set out to clean them. "So, you’re the eldest of four ?"

"Two sisters, one brother. You ?"

"Eldest too, by an hour. He took his sweet time."

"A twin ?"

"You think ?"

"Okay, smartass." He flicked water at him. Black rolled his eyes, but said nothing. The heat of the day had lessened, and the night air was companionably warm – the silence too.

It remained that way until they were back inside, cigarette smoked, dishes stored, table wiped, and Gumpa took two beers from the fridge.

"About what we do," asked Black. "Do your siblings know ?"

Gumpa opened his bottle and swallowed a mouthfull. It gave him some time. "No. No one does. A few years ago, my sister – the oldest – was arrested for helping women get illegal abortions." He tensed despite himself, bracing for the usual comments and questions, but Black didn’t talk. He just kept looking at him with the aggressive focus typically reserved for their plans. "As you can guess, this was a pretty hard time for the family. Harder for her, of course, she’s not done building herself back up, but – if I can save my parents some worries over another child… I have to try, at least."

"But you didn’t tel your sister either. The oldest, I mean."

"Nah." He couldn’t help but smile.  "She’d try to help."

To his surprise, Black was smiling too, and raised his beer in an I’ll-drink-to-that gesture. It seemed as good a time as any to pry.

"And your brother, does he know ?"

The smile vanished like it’d never been there.

"We were separated," Black said, after a long enough moment that Gumpa had wondered if the conversation was over. "When our parents divorced.  Father took one, Mom the other. I tried to write, but I assume they intercepted my letters – don’t ask me why, I won’t answer. And don’t tell me that’s fucked up because I already know."

What was there to reply to that ? Gumpa took another beer and held it out. Black nodded curtly.

"I don’t want him anywhere near all that anyway. He’s not like me, he’s..." He gave a vague handwave, leaving it for Gumpa to figure out. Softer. Fragile. Better, maybe, as in worth more. "It’s ugly here, and it’s only gonna get worse."

There they were.

"Things getting worse, is that why you didn’t leave tonight ?"

"Nothing gets past you."

"Come on, Black."

"My roommate, my – the guy I’m crashing at, I told you about him."

"Todd."

"Hmm. He’s more crooked than I believed, I think. Or exactly as much, but I’m only facing it now."

"Black..."

"I don’t need comfort. I don’t need your input at all. I’ll deal with him if I have to, and that’s the end of it. Understood ?"

"Normally I’d tell you off for bossing me around under my roof, but you get a pass this time. Understood, I won’t meddle."

"Thanks."

"Don’t make me regret it."

"Oh, piss off."

The impulse came, unexpected : to ruffle the younger man’s hair, give him an embarassing hug. He didn’t indulge. They weren’t brothers.

"Gumpa ?"

"Yes ?"

"Can I stay here tonight ? I’ll sleep on the couch, and I’ll be gone first thing in the morning."

You can stay as long as you need, he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure it would be well received.

"Sean might not even come back tonight. You could sleep in his bed."

"I’d rather gouge my eyes out," replied Black quite genially, and they went back to their drink.

"I met your brother the other day."

Black, of course, doesn’t answer.

"Kid just showed up at your uni, all dressed like you and ready to poke his nose into everything. He’s in over his head, and scared shitless, but he holds on for your sake. You should be proud."

Gumpa sighs. He can’t stay long – it was a bad idea, coming here, but he had to.

"I don’t know who told him about you. And I don’t know how to convince him to trust us. But I’ll look after him, you have my word. I’m trying to make him stay at the garage. Let’s hope he’s less of a loner than you."

He rises. There is nothing more to say, nothing more to do. No point in ruminating his failures. He still looks back before he lets the curtain drop.

"If he does take me up on the offer," he says. "I’ll make him room with Sean. With any luck, that’ll piss you off enough fo you to wake up."

[kickthecanrevolution]

My vet came yesterday armed with a ton of information about Peach. She has a fungal infection and an upper respiratory called Feline Calicovirus that is highly infectious - even objects, including my clothes and hands - can transmit it and the symptoms are rough for many cats. He was kind of amazed she tested positive for it, as it’s not super common. He said “what is it with you and these animals with bizarre hardly heard of infections? He spoke with an internist at length and we have a game plan. Peach is a little congested but doesn’t have any of the really tough symptoms which is a relief. And she’s been out and about a bit and I’ve certainly pet my cats after handling her, so them not showing signs of it is a good thing. He gave the cats distemper vaccines which will help lessen symptoms if she can’t get rid of it and does pass it to them, but we are hopeful that she can get rid of it. I’m balancing letting her be out and about so her smell can get into the house versus letting her get too close to the cats. Minnie wants absolutely nothing to do with her but Bud is curious and I can tell, if this works out, they’ll be good friends ,

Her herpes (also positive for that) viral load is low and almost all cats have that so he’s not worried. He’s also not worried that the stress of introducing a kitten will trigger Bud’s leukemia. So I’m more positive about keeping her but we will need to see what her labs come back with, I’ll do the right thing for her if it’s safer for everyone for her to be in a single cat household.

This entire process has been healing in a way that’s difficult to describe. I’ve dealt with some deep stuff that I couldn’t touch in 12 years of therapy. My intuitive coach is an energy worker and healer and at first I thought it was totally crazy, but I believe it now.

My vet and his assistant hung out for a while, I made them some cocktails, and we just chatted. He mentioned he was taking his staff to a Pink concert tonight right down the street and I told him they should stop by either before or after, I really want to meet his partner so he’s up for it! I feel like he could be a friend. If not, what an incredible blessing to have a Vet who will research and research and call and get second and third opinions. It’s such a blessing.

I’m hiding from the world. From the War. From the massacres. It’s clearly a privilege to do that. Shirley told me that the energy right now is something that the world has never experienced, and everyone, including animals, are all reacting to it. It’s a chance to elevate to our higher selves, it’s inviting us to do that, and the chaos is forcing us all to look at ourselves more deeply. Since the beginning of the year, I’ve had an odd foreboding about the future, like I couldn’t quite place it – I don’t think that means our future is over but I think things are changing in ways that none of us have ever experienced before.

I love all of you so much, you’re such an important part of my life and I’m so grateful you’re here to process my small but very valuable world with me. I take all of your comments to heart. Thank you for reading, thank you for your tolerance of me and giving me the grace to be raw and show the darker parts of myself as they come to the light.

[metamorphosiskrp]

Hello, lovelies and a very Happy New Year to you all!

We'd like to thank you for staying with us, it's been lovely seeing how this place is growing! First of all, we now have a new moderator! Mod Morph will be the extra eyes and ears of Metamorphosis. And since this is a new year, we've decided to add a few more rules and changes to regulations that are already in place:

ADDRESSING NSFW AND TRIGGER WARNINGS. This is something that's come up in the part, which we think needs to be addressed since we're now gathering our bearings and seeing what direction this RP is going. We decided to keep NSFW plots as private - connotations of a sexual nature is fine - but full-out, writing out the scenes are a no-go, and you could get a warning for it. This one is more of a reminder, but please make sure trigger warnings are in the public threads, no matter how small it is. CHANGING OF THE TIMEZONE THE RP RUNS. With the addition of administrate and moderator help, it only makes sense to change the timezone the RP would be managed to maximise the time the admins and mods are available, too. The change would be, from KST (GMT+9) to GMT+0. Deadlines for Activity Checks would now be 11:59PM GMT+0. WEEKLY TO BIMONTHLY ACTIVITY CHECKS. To lessen the pressure of trying to write weekly, we have decided to change the dates when we hold the activity check. The deadlines would always be the 15th and 30th of the MONTH, 11:59PM (GMT+0). INCREASE OF REQUIRED TOKENS. With the activity check being bimonthly, we would increase the required tokens to 10 tokens, which would be 5 fresh tokens + 5 previous tokens, which means a member would need to accumulate at least 5 fresh/new tokens on top of their previous tokens (assuming they have 5 or more, if the member has less than 5, of course they would need to accumulate the tokens needed to complete the required 10 tokens.) It is basically just like last time, we just added 2 more tokens to it. If it is still confusing, don't hesitate to approach and ask us. ADDITIONAL REQUIREMENTS TO PASS THE ACTIVITY CHECK. We would like to apply the mandatory comment of "done" under the announcement post, this is for us to monitor whether a member thought they submitted their activity check form, but it didn't went through and we weren't able to get it through the form. This is to lessen the miscommunication from both parties, and avoid misjudgement of kicking out a member who thought they submitted their activity check form. EXEMPTION FOR ACTIVITY CHECKS. Since we are doing bimonthly activity checks now, the members exempted to do the activity checks are those that got accepted 7 days or less to the end of the activity check. (ex. I joined the community on the 22nd of the month, I would need to do the AC since it would be 8 days to the end of the activity check, but if I joined the community on the 23rd of the month, I would be exempted since it would be exactly 7 days to the end of the activity check. Take note that the timezone that will be considered for this would be GMT+0). Additionally, those that are on full hiatus would be exempted, those that are on semi-hiatus would be required to do the activity check, but only needs to pass 2 tokens (either new or old).

THESE CHANGES ARE EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. The Activity Check will end on January 15th, 11:59PM GMT+0, instead of January 11, 11:59PM KST.

[udo0stories]

In 2019, the Board of Supervisors of San Francisco made history by voting to outlaw the use of face recognition by city agencies, including the police department. Since then, about two dozen additional US cities have done the same. However, voters in San Francisco appear to be against limiting police technology as they supported a ballot proposition on Tuesday that will facilitate the use of drones and other surveillance equipment by city police. London Breed, the mayor of San Francisco, supported Proposition E, which received 60% of the vote and passed. It grants the San Francisco Police Department additional authority to use drones and install security cameras without interference from the Board of Supervisors or Police Commission. Additionally, it relaxes the requirement that the SFPD obtain Board of Supervisors approval prior to implementing new surveillance technology, enabling requests to be made at any point during the first year. According to Matt Cagle, a senior staff attorney with the ACLU of Northern California, those modifications weaken other significant protections while maintaining the current ban on face recognition. "We fear that Proposition E will expose San Francisco residents to unsafe and unproven technology," he states. "This is a cynical attempt by powerful interests to take advantage of people's fears of crime and give the police more power." Supporters like Mayor Breed have framed it as a solution to the city of San Francisco's crime problem. Although overall crime rates have decreased, fentanyl has recently been the cause of an increase in overdose deaths, and commercial downtown neighborhoods are still dealing with a shortage of retail and office space as a result of the pandemic. Tech-related organizations also backed the proposal, such as the campaign group GrowSF, which did not reply to a request for comment. "We will continue in our mission to make San Francisco a safer city by supporting the work of our police officers, expanding our use of technology, and getting officers out of their desks and onto our streets," Mayor Breed stated in a statement following the proposition's approval. With the exception of a pandemic blip in 2020, she pointed out that 2023 saw the lowest crime rates in the city in ten years, and that violent and property crime rates would continue to fall through 2024. Proposition E also lessens paperwork requirements, including when officers use force, and gives police greater latitude to pursue suspects in automobile pursuits. The nonprofit organization Fight for the Future, whose campaign director and managing director is Caitlin Seeley George, has long opposed face recognition technology. She describes the proposal as "a blow to the hard-fought reforms that San Francisco has championed in recent years to rein in surveillance." "People's rights are being undermined and situations where people are more vulnerable to harm are being created," claims George, as a result of the police using surveillance technology more frequently while also decreasing transparency and oversight. While Cagle of the ACLU agrees with her that residents of San Francisco will feel less safe, he believes the city should continue to be known for having sparked a national backlash against surveillance. After San Francisco banned face recognition in 2019, about two dozen other cities did the same, many of them with the addition of new oversight procedures for police monitoring.

[legends-of-time]

Waking the Sorceress Within (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 3: Becoming Too Real

Masterlist

Just one week after Amelia had met Ygraine and Uther, disaster happens. She's laying on her blanket outside while Helen relaxes in a chair when a messenger on a horse arrives at the house. At first, she does not realise anything is wrong until she hears shocked gasps coming from Helen.

"George! George!" Cries Helen. "You will never believe what happened!"

"What is it, Helen?" George says confusedly as he steps out of their home as he hears his wife's cries.

"It is the Queen! She went into labour too early and has passed!" Helen sobs. This makes Amelia confused as she swears Ygraine had another month at least.

George clearly shares a her confusion, "but she was not due for another month! She said so herself!"

"It was shock that caused her to go into giving birth prematurely," Helen explains. "She had just gotten a letter that her sister had died."

"Vivienne? But she was so well." George comments still sounding very confused.

"They found her in the woods. She had a servant to hand her sister a letter she had written and then ran off." Helen exclaims. What happened in the woods?

"Poor Morgana and Gorlois!" George cries. "Uther as well. Did the baby survive?"

"Yes, a healthy baby boy. An heir."

This whole situation is overwhelming. George and Helen obviously believe that as Amelia is only a month old baby and she won't understand what they are talking about. The show never really explained what happened to Morgana and Morgause's mother. It does sound very dodgy though. Vivienne simply rode into the woods after telling someone to send a letter to her sister before being found dead. What happened in the woods and what was in that letter that caused Ygraine's early labour?

Amelia knows that the Great Purge is going to begin now. Uther likely used magic to impregnate his wife as he did in the show and now he is going to punish thousands of innocent people for something they cannot control to lessen his guilt. It is also going to make a lot of people angry and vengeful and this causes her mind to drift towards Morgause. She is likely with the High Priestesses at the Isle of the Blessed by now. Though Amelia knows she does not need to worry about Morgause for a while.

——

Amelia does not meet Morgana or Arthur, however, until she is 3 years old. It is another trip to the Castle. She has not returned since Ygraine's death and Arthur's birth but George has and sometimes Helen too. This means that Amelia has not had the opportunity to meet Arthur or Morgana. To be honest she is getting tired of waiting.

When they arrive in the Council Chambers, the Court seems more sombre than Amelia remembers and that partly might be due to the fact that Uther is not as joyful himself as he was when she first met him. She straightens herself uncomfortably and tries not to start tugging at her long brown hair that's been half pinned up.

They are announced once again by the herald, which still makes Amelia jump, and then all three of them begin walking towards where Uther sits at the other end of the Hall.

"Helen, George, it is good to see you," Uther utters. "You do not come often enough." He gives them a small smile.

"We apologise, Sire," George answers respectfully. "I hope you remember our daughter Amelia?" At the sound of her name, Amelia steps from Helen's side and curtsies like Helen and her Nanny had taught her. Uther simply looks at her with a sad glance.

"My my you've grown haven't you?" This unnerves Amelia slightly and she does not respond until she feels Helen nudge her side with a leg.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Amelia says quietly.

Uther then beckons a woman that Amelia had noticed over to them and when she did a small mop of blonde hair pops from behind her and a pair of blue eyes like hers watching Amelia. After analysing him for a minute, Amelia realises that this must be Arthur.

"This is my son Arthur," Uther states proudly. "I am sure the two of you are going to be the best of friends." This causes Arthur to turn his stare toward her and shyly give her a smile while Amelia returns it.

"Nanny why don't you take the two of them to the Nursery," Uther orders. "I am sure that Gorlois's daughter is already there with her own Nanny."

"Yes, Sire," the Nanny murmurs before taking Arthur's hand as well as Amelia's. She looks toward Helen, who gives her an encouraging smile.

The Nanny then begins to lead Arthur and Amelia down the hall away from the Council Chambers. They walk down many halls not speaking a word to each other until they arrive at another door. Arthur's Nanny knocks and the door opens to reveal another woman.

"Your Highness," the woman utters curtsying. "Nanny Grey, My Lady." She opens the door.

The three of them step into a room of considerable size even though this is a room for one child. Royals. The room must be inside one of the Castle's turrets as it is of a round nature. There is the obvious cot in the corner with expensive white silks hanging over it and opposite the cot, on the other side of the room is a large window with the same type of silk as the cot framing it. There is also a door on one side that Amelia doesn't know where it leads.

After analysing this, she then notices a young girl with dark hair that might as well of been cut from the same cloth as the silk on the cot and curtains and skin that makes it obvious that she dinot see the sun often in the middle of the room playing. Morgana.

"My Lady? Arthur is back and he's brought a new friend for all of you to play with." The woman, who opened the door, speaks in a clear calm voice. This causes Morgana to glance up and run up to them with a doll in her hands.

She looked at Amelia and bluntly asks, "Who are you?"

"Lady Morgana!" Her Nanny immediately scolds. Amelia does not really mind and instead, she grabs Arthur's and Morgana's hands and pulls them towards the toys.

"I am Amelia by the way. We can be friends." Amelia says hoping that this will work because she genuinely does want to be friends with Morgana and get to know her.

"Alright then." She sniffs trying to act like she does not care when she does actually look interested. "Let us all play."

As they begin to play Arthur then pipes up, "Can I be friends with you too?"

"Of course," Amelia says warmly thinking how adorable Arthur looks at this age, it makes her want to squash his cheeks.

——

Just as Amelia hopes, they all grow up close from that point on, of course, she and Morgana are not always in Camelot as Gorlois is still alive and Amelia has her own home with George and Helen. However, they visit often especially on special events, birthdays for example. Wanting to be good friends with the two of them on one hand stems from her obsession with the show and wanting to get to know the characters and on the other hand, it comes from her want to full fill Ygraine's wish that they would be close.

Of course, it is not always fun and games. During this time since Arthur's birth, Uther has been executing anyone with some type of magic. Due to the fact that Amelia is to everyone a very small child, she is mostly kept away from the brutality of the Great Purge. Though whenever he can, Uther will bring up his view, what he sees as the correct view, that magic is evil.

When she and Arthur are old enough to have lessons, Helen, George and Amelia move to the Castle, as Morgana had a year earlier, so that she can join Morgana with her Governess while Arthur is having his own separate lessons to prepare him for being King. The only lesson they all share is being taught to sword fight, which Helen is not happy with as she does not see this as very ladylike but George and Gorlois feel that it is important for Amelia and Morgana to learn some type of self-defence.

Science is an interesting one due to the fact that it is not developed as it is in the 21st century, not that Amelia remembers all that she was taught but she remembers the odd thing, which completely contradicts what she is being taught in Camelot.

One obvious topic that all three of them are taught is the evilness of magic, which annoys Amelia cause this is Uther's attempt to brainwash all of them. She often openly disagrees with her Governess over this and of course, this is reported back to Uther. He often lectures her on how she is only young and does not truly understand the world. Amelia still argues back and from seeing her do this, Morgana often backs her up, which Amelia is grateful for as she is still only small and Uther is very imposing.

However, one day when Amelia is six, Uther has enough and decides to show what happens to people who practise magic and those that help them. Her first execution. Amelia has never seen anyone die in her life ever, especially witnessing someone lose their head. People like Gaius, who she has gotten to know well whenever she needs medical help, George and Helen try to persuade Uther from doing this but he argues that she needs to be taught what happens to those who are 'evil' Sorcerers. He seems the type of parent to give tough treatment, to show children the harsh reality.

It is not a day that you would forget. Amelia remembers being led to the Balcony by a servant that she does not recognise, she is kept near the back though while Uther stands at the front for all to see. Then the drumbeat begins, Amelia sees two Guards begin to lead the young woman towards the execution block that is in the middle of the Square, surrounded by a large enough crowd. Uther begins his speech about the 'justice' that is going to happen and the 'evilness' of this person as Guards lead the woman up the steps of the stand the block sits on. Amelia admires this woman for her strength as while looking like she is about to cry, she is able to control her emotions and be calm despite the fact that she is going to die.

As the woman begins to kneel down and place her head on the block, Amelia begins to feel her blood gushing in her ears, she feels like her heart is beating so loud that everyone can hear it and she half expects Uther to turn around and scold her but he does not. Amelia watches the executioner lift up the axe and begin to lower it when Uther gives him the signal.

(A/N: this next chapter is a bit descriptive so if you don't like that skip this next paragraph)

The axe seems to be moving in slow motion and even though Amelia knows that she should turn her eyes away from the scene so she will not see the woman lose her head, she cannot turn her eyes away from it. It gets nearer and nearer until there is a thump. The woman's head falls to the floor, blood pouring from where the head used to be making Amelia feel sick, but the worst bit is seeing how her body carries on twitching for a few moments before going still.

Her heart is beating so loud that Amelia does not hear the gasps of the crowd nor Uther calling her name, she can only see the woman's body and the Guards putting her head into a basket.

"Amelia, Amelia," Uther cries, but in concern, before grabbing her small shoulders so that Amelia would look at him tearing her gaze from the horrific sight in front of her. "Do you understand Amelia? Do you understand that I do this to protect you from the evil magic causes?"

Amelia only stares at him before fleeing from the Balcony towards Gaius's Chambers where she hopes to find him leaving Uther yelling her name.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[ghostlytravelerprince]

12/25/23

Merry Christmas, my Diary.

Today, I’m thinking about family and empathy. People carry around so much hidden pain, which feels so hard to access, sometimes. But, I think, through sharing it, their burden can be a little lifted simply by knowing that others have felt that same ache. It takes being the first to bear your heart, though, and that can be nerve wracking.

I’d like to think I’ve gotten a bit better at bearing my heart into the open, since I prefer to keep it heavily guarded. But, by bearing it, I’ve seen others’ pain, and I hope by bringing their pain to the light that their ache lessens, even if just by a little.

At every family gathering, one person gets stuck with the chores. Oftentimes, it’s actually me because I love the work and I love to clean. This isn’t a burden, then. But, I walked into the kitchen, and my youngest cousin was the one doing the dishes all by herself. People would come by and drop off more dishes, and they would thank her (as is customary). I thought I heard in her voice the strain that, to me, says, “I’m doing this because if I don’t, who will?”. The weariness that arises when the work needs to get done, and it creates less negative emotions through the group if you just buckle down and do it yourself. Someone so young shouldn’t know that pain.

I went beside her and dried the dishes. I didn’t say much (because, honestly, there wasn’t anything going through my head except drying the dishes), but silence is a powerful motivator, and she started asking me questions. That got me thinking, and I suddenly had things to say. I like to think we were able to connect, which can sometimes be difficult between the younger and older cousins. But, I’m glad it felt like that gap shrunk, even for a little bit.

I hope I made it feel a little less lonesome. I hope she goes home and doesn’t feel like the workhorse of the family. I hope, at the very least, that she knows that I truly saw her in that moment.

My younger brother came by at one point, and we started talking about the last family trip that we had. It was a while ago, but he seemed to sheepishly lament how we haven’t had a family trip since. Such a gift to see someone who is usually quiet share his desire for family connection. Someone so young shouldn’t carry that pain. That’s the joy of truly seeing someone, I think — when they share their pain, I can ache with them, and our aches lessen.

My other cousin and I only wear black. We tried eating the jello my aunt used to make before she passed. I couldn’t really eat anything without her touch. My cousin and I are both working on opening our hearts, and today I felt ours touch. I’ll call her sometime. I’m glad she brought up our aunt’s death because nobody really had, but it hovered in the background. My eldest cousin commented that me and her looked like we were dressed for a funeral, and I remarked that perhaps we were. I’m reminded of the Johnny Cash song “Man in Black”. I don’t know why I’ve always felt comfortable in black, but perhaps that’s why. I’m not shy that I carry death in my heart, and that I mourn for people I know and people I don’t.

Before I left, I talked to my uncle. I’ll be emailing him as my pen pal, like I used to email his wife before her death. “We’d been married for 60 years”, he said, and it hurts me still to think about it. I’m sure it’s odd — someone so old talking to someone so young, how could we relate? Even though I don’t know what that sort of marriage is like, I hope he knows that parts of my heart belong to him. I hope he knows that I’m by his side through his grief. I hope he knows that I’m committed to breaking the generational cycle of hiding from death and grief and all the negativity of the world. That’s why I wear black.

All I ask is that people feel with me. I feel so deeply, and I’m tired of feeling alone. How can we be family if we only cheer together? It’s time to ache together. The deeper I open up my scars to others, the greater they reciprocate. I had many heartfelt conversations today, and some simply cheerful ones, as well. All are valid, when all are in moderation.

[atopcat]

It seems to me House of the Dragon is deliberately lessening the importance of female dragon riders and their bond with their dragons in a bizarre attempt at passive women = feminism.

Rhaenyra’s a dragon rider, but don’t worry Syrax is a little baby. She’s not dangerous nor a threat because we don’t like that kind of woman.

We don’t see Laena claiming Vhagar and minus a 10 second flight their only other interaction is when Vhagar sets her on fire. In the books Daemon finds her body collapsed on the staircase after she tries to ride her dragon one last time, this bond is diminished because what would a delicate woman want with such a massive beast? Instead Aemond is shown to be the only one to have a “special bond” with Vhagar.

The only scene Rhaenys has with Meleys is that ridiculous coronation scene. Again, we don’t see her interacting with her dragon before this and her bond isn’t given the same significance as Targaryen males with their’s. The whole scene was so comically stupid it was almost as though they were implying women are too emotional to have a dragon, they get one and their automatic reaction is to kill a bunch of smallfolk and then flee because they can’t kill male dragon riders.

In the books George tells us Baela loves riding Moondancer so much she crops her hair, we don’t see this in the show. It’s a passing comment made by her father to remind the audience Team Black have more dragons in their arsenal but we don’t see Baela interacting with her dragon the way her stepbrothers do with their’s.

Does the audience even know Helaena has a dragon? Apparently her show character description states “she doesn’t enjoy riding” whilst in the books they’ve bonded since Helaena was 11 and the dragon was “beloved to her”. It’s also telling that when all the boys were in the dragonpit Helaena was nowhere to be seen. Aemond was there but not his 14 year old sister who’s had a dragon for 3 years!

Nettles was the only female dragonseed and so far she hasn’t been cast.

Will they even introduce Morning or are they going to give Rhaena’s victory as the last dragon rider to her brother?

I’m not sure why House of the Dragon took this bizarre approach to their female characters, but it comes back to their insistence on only writing women to be passive and docile 24/7.

hotd, are you ok?

SYRAX (Queen Rhaenyra): Huge and formidable, killed at the Storming of the Dragonpit. - twoiaf

Against that, Prince Daemon had Caraxes and Princess Rhaenyra Syrax, both huge and formidable beasts. - fb

[kaleldobrev]

Supernatural: Purgatory (2)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam and your parents team up to try and find a way to get you, Dean, and Cas back. Meanwhile in Purgatory, not only do you and Dean finally come face to face with the creature with the red glowing eyes, but something from your past.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Fluff, Angst

Authors Note: This is part two or episode two of my Supernatural: Purgatory Series! Things are starting to heat up now! I apologize in advance for the little cliffhanger | At this point, I am choosing to ignore the Amelia/Sam storyline as Jared himself even said how he didn't even like that storyline believing that Sam would have done anything to try and get Dean and Cas back | Flashbacks are in italics | If you want to be tagged in this series, message or comment! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Previously on Supernatural…

“Is Y/N okay? Dean, Cas?” Your mother was a little worried, more worried than usual. She was used to being worried, she always worried about you even before you started hunting with Sam and Dean; she was your mother after all. When you had become a hunter, the worry she had for you grew, but it started to lessen – not by much, but it did once you had decided to start hunting with Sam and Dean. Although she knew that you were a very capable hunter and had hunted for years before meeting up with the boys, she felt a little relieved once you had decided to team up with them, knowing that you would at least have some kind of backup now.

“I don’t…I don’t know.” Sam hated to say it, but it was true, he wasn’t completely sure if you, Cas or his brother were okay. From what Crowley said, it seemed like the three of you were in Purgatory, but he wasn’t completely sure. For all he knew, Crowley was lying, and the three of you could be dead.

“Dean…” You removed your arms from his neck, him doing the same with your waist. You went into your jacket and pulled out your hunting knife. Out of your peripheral you saw Dean doing the same, both of you entering a fighting stance. As the two of you looked at the entrance not moving a muscle, a low growl was heard between you two which started to get louder and louder with each passing second. “Looks like we have company.” You whispered. A pair of red eyes suddenly appeared.

“You ready?” He whispered.

“Ready.” You responded back.

NOW – Purgatory

You and Dean stood side by side, each of you holding your respected hunting knives tightly in hand. “What’s the plan Dean?” You asked, slightly turning your head.

Dean turned to look at you. “Don’t die.” He slightly shrugged his shoulders.

You let out a huff, rolling your eyes. “Obviously. I mean, do we have a better plan than just ‘don’t die’?”

“Uh…” Dean really didn’t have a solid plan. ‘Don’t die’ was really all he had.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” You teased.

“Fuck you.” He said, his voice a mixture of joking and annoyed.

“Love you too.” You grinned, turning your face back to the entrance of the cave.

The creature – gorilla-wolves as Dean had affectionally nicknamed them, started making its way slowly into the cave. You really didn’t know what to expect when it came to these creatures, as you nor Dean – or any hunter for that matter, has ever come across or heard of these creatures before. The only thing that you knew was that they were incredibly fast; but you didn’t know how to actually kill them. For all you knew, you and Dean could stab this creature with your hunting knives repeatedly and it still wouldn’t die. But hunting knives, switchblades, and pointy sticks were pretty sure your only choice of weapons right now; there were probably no other weapons available here.

“Okay. I say we just…keep on stabbing.” You shrugged.

“Keep on stabbing?” Dean questioned. He seemed unsure of your plan.

“It’s better than nothing. Unless you have any better ideas, I’m all ears babe.” You responded. The gorilla-wolf was fully in the cave with the two of you now, mere feet away. Now with it fully in the cave in close proximity, you were finally able to see what these creatures looked like. Upon seeing it, they were not what you had pictured from what Dean had named them. Yes, there seemed to be some kind of resemblance to a wolf, but there seemed to be no gorilla in sight – you honestly had no idea where Dean had gotten that part from. If you were to name it, it would have been were-panther as that is what it seemed to look like the most to you. The creature was jet black and slender and covered in fur. The tail was long and slender to match it’s body; and it walked on all fours. A small growl came from the creature, almost a rumble from its chest.

The creature stopped, it’s red glowing eyes making direct eye contact with just you. “Alright.” Dean said, gripping his knife even tighter in his hands; his knuckled almost pure white. “Stabbing it is Sweetheart.” He turned to look at you briefly before looking at the creature again; both of you were surprised that the creature hadn’t attacked yet, as there seemed to be barely any hesitation when it had chased you before.

You took a deep breath. “On three?”

Dean nodded. “On three.”

“One.” You started counting first.

“Two.” Dean said. You started to grip your knife tighter; your knuckles too turning white just like Dean’s.

“Three.” The two of you said in unison.

You and Dean made your way to the creature, practically lunging; as did the creature before you. You and Dean took opposite sides of the creature, trying any possible way to slow the creature down. You took your knife and stabbed the creature in the stomach – at least where you expected where the stomach could be. A guttural, painful whine came from the creature; a decent amount of blood coming from the place you had just stabbed. The creature swiped up, trying it’s best to aim for your arm, but before it could Dean cut the creature’s arm, causing the creature to let out yet another guttural whine.

Your Parents House

Your parents were sitting next to each other on the couch in the living room. Your mother’s eyes stared intensely at the front door as she tapped her foot on the floor. Her heart was pounding fast. Your father looked at your mother, sensing her nervousness and placed a comforting hand on her knee. Upon doing this your mother looked away from the door momentarily to look at your father. “What if he doesn’t come?” Your mother asked.

“He said he was going to didn’t he?” Your father asked, his question more rhetorical than anything.

“He did but…what if he changed his mind?” Your mother too asked rhetorically. Your mother had just gotten off the phone with Sam a few hours ago. Even though her and your father didn’t have any experience when it came to hunting, nor did they know a lot about this world, you were their daughter and they wanted to do anything that they possibly could in order to try and find a way to get you back. Sam had told your parents that even though he had no idea if you were okay, he was going to try his best to help find a way to get you back; because he knew if he was able to get you back, there would also be a way to get Dean back too, considering – at least he hoped at least – you two were in the same place: Purgatory. But the two of you being in Purgatory was a long shot; and something that was solely based on the words of Crowley, someone he couldn’t trust.

A loud knock came, and your mother practically jumped out of her seat to answer it; praying that it was Sam. Looking through the peep hole she opened it and wrapped her arms around Sam in a firm hug. He hugged her back, trying his best to comfort her. After the hug she looked at him, her eyes were filled with worry, and maybe a hint of loss. Even though she had no idea if you were okay or not, there was a small part of her that was starting to grieve. She didn’t want to think that you were dead, but she also didn’t want to get her hopes up either. “Thank you for coming.” She said.

“Of course.” Sam replied, walking into the house. Your mother closed the door behind him. Sam walked over to the opposite couch from where your father was sitting, and gave your father a slight wave.

“Hey there Sam.” Your father said. His voice was slightly monotone. Even though Sam didn’t have much interaction with your father, he could sometimes hear his voice whenever you talked to him on the phone. His voice was usually so joyful and warm sounding, but his voice now was far from that.

“Mr. Y/L/N.” Sam nodded. Your mother sat back down next to your father, the two of them looked over at Sam. He held his hands, eyeing your parents, trying to figure out what he was going to say. Clearing his throat he began to talk. “So…I think…I think Y/N is in Purgatory.” Sam began. “So, if Y/N is in Purgatory, I think that also means Dean and Cas are too.”

“And Purgatory is what exactly?” Your mom asked. You had mentioned Purgatory before, but only briefly, not getting into too much detail about it.

“It’s where monsters go when they die.” Sam explained.

Your parents looked at each other briefly, both giving each other worried looks before looking at Sam again. “So, how did Y/N, Cas, and Dean end up there? They aren’t monsters.” Your father said.

“That’s the part I’m not sure about. I…I’m thinking maybe…the close proximity of killing Dick did it?” Sam really had no theories about how the three of you could have ended up in Purgatory. The close proximity theory was honestly the best thing he could come up with, but there was no possible way he could be right because it didn’t really make any sense.

Your mom rubbed her face, starting to feel herself get frustrated with the lack of information that she was getting. “Okay. How do we…How do we get them back?”

Purgatory

Almost in unison, you and Dean stabbed the creature in the head; a loud crunch sounded off – you didn’t  think you had crushed the skull from the stab, but that’s what it had sounded like. Once the two of you impaled the skull with each hunting knife, a large gush of blood came from the creature, splattering both of you in the face and on your necks. The blood of the creature dripped down your chin, and dripped along your collarbone – you could have sworn you tasted iron in your mouth.

The two of you removed your knives and the creature went down with a huge thud, collapsing between the two of you. You huffed, and so did Dean. The gorilla-wolf/were-panther wasn’t the toughest thing  you or him had ever faced, but what made this creature terrifying to you is that you never read or heard of any kind of lore when it came to the creature. At least when you have fought creatures and monsters in the past that you have never faced before, there was at least some kind of lore about it or you or the boys had known one hunter who had faced it before.

“Hunting knife to the head I guess works.” You said, wiping off the blood from the knife on your jacket. “Good to know.”

Dean wiped his own knife on his jacket before putting it back into the inside of his jacket. Dean knelt down, looking at the creature almost as if he was examining it. He leaned over, grabbing one of the pointy sticks the two of you had whittled and poked the creature with the stick. Poking it several times, the creature didn’t move a muscle – it truly was dead. He looked up at you, throwing the stick to the side. “So, what are we going to do with this guy?”

“Burn it?” You asked, more of a suggestion than anything.

“Alright. Let’s do it quick, I don’t want to draw more attention to ourselves than we already do.” He said, standing up.

To make the creature easier to burn, the two of you chopped the body up into pieces – more like chunks – as that would be the quickest and easier way to get rid of the body. Being humans in a world where there were creatures around every corner that had wanted to kill you, doing this quickly and efficiently was your top priority.

Once the body was chopped up, the two of you started making a fire that would be large enough but also small enough as to not draw too much attention to yourselves. As the fire roared, you took turns placing the body parts into the fire while one of you stood watch.

Dean held the hunting knife in his hand as he leaned up against the cave entrance. He overlooked the landscape of the place, everything being the exact same no matter where he looked. It was an endless forest of just different shades of gray. Dean looked up at the sky, finally understanding what you had said when it came to the changing of the sky – how much you took the changes for granted. The changing of the sky was something that he realized that he took for granted too.

You and Dean had known each other just short of a year. Sam was fast asleep in the passenger seat of Baby with a blanket covering him; a blanket that you had brought to actually keep yourself warm on the long car rides, but you had decided in this moment that Sam had needed it more. Dean and you were sitting together on the trunk of Baby, each of you holding a cold beer in your hand. As the two of you looked up at the night sky, you pointed out various constellations, every so often swearing that you saw a shooting star. Dean looked at your face, admiring the way the moonlight was hitting your face. You took a small sip of beer before looking over at him; a questioning look on your face. “Is there something on my face?” You asked, starting to brush your cheeks and forehead. “Did I get it off?”

Dean chuckled before taking a sip of his beer. “No, no. There’s nothing on your face Sweetheart.” He gave you a small smile before rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Dean…” Your voice trailed off. He leaned in close to you, your lips inches away from each other. He looked at your lips for a moment before looking you in the eyes. The smell of beer wafted in the air along with the sweet scent of your lavender lotion that he had secretly loved. Leaning in, your lips gently crashed against each other. Initially, this was not Dean’s plan. He had no intentions of kissing you in this moment, but it was something that he didn’t regret. Kissing you in this moment would be the first, but definitely not the last time he would be.

A few weeks after that moment, the two of you had officially gotten together. “Finally.” Sam had said to him.

Dean looked at you as you added another part to the fire. The way the light of the fire hit your face seemed so similar to the way the moonlight had hit your face from one of his favorite memories. “How’s it comin’ Sweetheart?” He asked.

You looked up at him, tossing the last piece into the fire. To your surprise, the parts were actually burning quite nicely. “That was the last piece.” You said, walking over to Dean. You stood on the opposite side of the entrance, leaning similarly to the way he was. You crossed your arms and looked out. The sky was still the same shade of gray; you didn’t even know if the sky was changing here, and even if it was, you hadn’t noticed. “I’m surprised there were no visitors while we were doing this.”

“Me too, especially from the smell.” Whenever you guys salted and burned the bones, there really wasn’t a smell coming from the bones anymore due to there being no remnants of fresh left. But burning this creature that was freshly killed with all of its fur, blood, and guts still intact, the smell was intoxicatingly strong. The smell of blood was something that didn’t bother either of you in the slightest; it was a scent that you had to get used to when it came to this way of life, but the smell of the guts was what was getting to you, as you could have sworn that there was still the previous meal of what it had eaten still decomposing in it’s stomach when you killed it.

Your Parents House

Your parents along with Sam were at the dining room table, various books were open to different pages that may or may not had something to do with Purgatory. As your parents were searching through the books, Sam was on his laptop doing his own research. It was strange the way Sam was feeling; he had wanted more than anything to find you, to find Dean, to find Cas. He wanted to be reunited with the three of you, because having the three of you in his life felt like there was some kind of direction in it, because hunting was one of the only things that he had ever known. But there was a part of him that strangely wanted to give up looking for three of you because of something that Dean and him agreed on: Don’t look, live your life.

When Sam had gone into the pit a few years ago, and before you and Dean had decided to leave the hunting life for a little over a year, the first couple of months were spent trying to find a way to get Sam back, but two of you kept hitting dead ends. After months of nothing, you and Dean gave up searching, gave up hope that there was a way to get Sam back. So the two of you had decided to give up the life – at least for a little while. Dean trying to make a living in construction, while you were trying to make a living as an EMT.

Despite there being an agreement between him and Sam, that agreement was something that you weren’t a part of; and that was one of the reasons as to why Sam had wanted to try to at least get you out, even if he couldn’t find a way to save Dean and Cas too. Getting you out, if he couldn’t get Dean and Cas out, is something that he knew Dean would agree with.

“Is this something?” Your father turned the book toward Sam so he could read it. “It looks like some kind of spell.”

“Let me see that.” Sam said, taking the book from your fathers hands. Sam examined the page, and it appeared to be in a language that he wasn’t far too familiar with; possibility a dead language. The picture next to it showed a hand drawn image of a gray forest, the only ounce of color being two red dots that had similar appearance to eyes. “Huh.”

Your parents looked at Sam, both giving him a questioning look as if to say, ‘Can you tell us more?’ “Sam?” Your mom asked.

Sam looked up from the page and looked at your parents, his fingers gingerly playing with the edges. “I don’t think it’s a spell. But, the language this is written in is something I haven’t seen before. I’m gonna have to do some digging.” In times like these, he wished that he had you or Bobby – you two were experts when it came to reading dead languages, or languages that he wasn’t too familiar with.

Sam and Dean were sitting at a two seater table next to a window, each of them with a book in front of them. You on the other hand were sitting in one of the motel room beds, the one you and Dean were sharing; sitting on your laptop. “Hey Y/N?” Sam asked. You looked up from your laptop screen, and Sam got up from the chair that he was sitting in. He walked over to you with the book that he was reading and started to hand it to you. “Can you tell me what this says?”

You took the book from him and looked at the pages. “Sammy, you and Dean are gonna have to learn to read this eventually. I’m not always gonna be here.” You said, in a kind of joking manner.

All of a sudden, Dean banged one of his fists onto the table, making you and Sam jump. “Don’t you dare say that!” Dean yelled, his tone of voice scaring both you and Sam.

“I’m just being realistic hon.” You said to him, your voice sounding a lot calmer than his had been. When you had spoke using your calming voice, Dean’s face started to calm down, his shoulders that were once tensed up started to relax again. Dean knew that you were right; it was just the life that you guys were dealt, but you not being in his life, their lives was something that he didn’t even want to think about. Dean had promised your parents – your mom specifically – that he would do everything in his power to protect you, even if that was the last thing he would do.

Purgatory

You and Dean had left the safety of the cave, not wanting to stay in one place for too long just in case. You didn’t want to get comfortable in a place for too long that would cause the two of you to let your guard down; because letting your guard down – especially here, was going to be a death sentence.

As the two of you walked, each of you held your respected hunting knives in hand just in case something decided to pick a fight. But something was strange while the two of you were walking – it was quiet, too quiet. Usually, Purgatory was full of some kind of sound – leaves rustling, the sounds of growling, running. But right now, there was nothing of the sorts, and that was something that was starting to scare you. You put your hand out, stopping Dean from walking any further. He looked at you, about to speak but you placed your finger in front of your mouth. “Shhh.” You looked around, and you felt yourself tense up, not completely knowing why. Dean followed your eyes, looking around, but he wasn’t sure what you were looking at.

“You hear something?” Dean whispered. “Cause I don’t hear anything Sweetheart.”

“That’s the point.” You turned to him, whispering too. “I don’t hear anything. Something’s wrong.”

The two of you heard a twig snap, which caused the two of you to get into a defensive stance with your bodies and weapons. “Hello Y/N.” A male voice said – a voice that you hadn’t heard in years; a voice that you thought you would never hear again. The man who had spoke your name came out from behind the tree, flashing you a flirty smile – a smile that you thought too, that you would never see again; a smile that had always made your heart flutter. “Fancy seeing you here.”

As the man came out from behind the tree, you started to lower your weapon, something that Dean noticed instantly. He gave you a concerning look, almost confused in nature as he was unsure why you had started to lower your weapon upon seeing this man. “Sweetheart, you know this guy?” Dean asked. Although you had started to lower your guard, that was something that Dean was not going to do, not by a long shot.

The man before the two of you grinned; seeming amused by the fact that Dean had called you Sweetheart. “Well, Sweetheart. Are you going to introduce us?” The man said, stepping even closer now – he was only a few feet away. The man in question was handsome, similar in stature to that of Dean, but had similar hair to Sam’s – both in color and length. He had on a leather jacket, a red graphic t-shirt underneath, dark wash denim jeans that were slightly tattered, and Timberland boots. Despite being in this place, he looked rather cleaned up, but there were still places in which blood and dirt could be seen on his pale skin.

Putting your hunting knife away, you looked at Dean, almost sighing, embarrassed that you had known this man before you. This was someone that you had thought you would never see again. “Dean this is…Elijah. Elijah, this is Dean.”

“Elijah? Who the fuck is Elijah?” Dean questioned, looking between you and him. Elijah simply kept up his flirty grin, he couldn’t help but overhear your heartbeat. It had given him a small amount of pleasure that even after all this time, your heart still beat rapidly for him.

“He’s my…” You took a deep breath, dreading saying the next word, afraid of how Dean was going to react. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, I must of misheard of you. Because there’s no way you just said this guy is your ex.” Dean was honestly filled with disbelief, not really knowing how to react to this kind of news. He knew that you had dated people before him – hell, even he dated a few women somehow before he had met you, but he never would have guessed that one of your exes would be someone that he would end up meeting – let alone meeting them here, a place that was simply a land of monsters.

“She didn’t stutter.” Elijah said, his voice amused.

Dean pointed at Elijah, his face full of anger. “I’m not talking to you.” Dean turned to you, waiting for some kind of an answer. Your face was flushed, and he could tell that you were embarrassed, ashamed of what you had just told him. “Sweetheart…” Dean tried to calm his voice, but there was still lots of anger in it.

“He’s the reason I got into hunting in the first place.” You explained.

Tag List: @alternativeprincess @roseblue373 @geekmom3 @rach5ive @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @winchester-sinchester @nelachu2423 @ladysparkles78 @cassiopeasmith @beansproutmafia

[romanoffsbish]

engagement is shite bc the Fandom is dying. it's as simple as that. has nothing to do with new content. all the best writers are leaving or have left and writers block/burnout is eating away at fanfic writers that no one gets joy from putting out content anymore. we feel like we're forced to do something which in turn make is detest it. the world is burning.

-moodymutual

It’s a bit of everything honestly. Because fics are still reaching 600-1k likes. My own included. But in the last year comments/reblogs have become a passing phase and it’s saddening. The fandom is not dying that drastically, there’s still so many of us here. It’s more so other things that have made everyone run for the hill.

Truth be told, most writers actually started leaving because they didn’t feel welcome in relation to some of the bigger accounts, and that’s just how fandoms work lol. What I know to be a major factor here is mean spirited people reporting the fics that are full of warnings.

Lessening that piece’s engagement and discouraging many writers. It would be one thing if someone posted a dark fic or smutty fic without any warnings, but when they warn you then leave anything offensive beneath the cut you’re just being a petty asshole. And for that one person who told a mutual it’s for the kids. As someone who works with today’s youth, those lil shits bypass any and all obstacles. Omegle is “18+” too, but those kids don’t care (and neither did I as a naive / idiotic teen). If you let your teens go to the movies, they’re seeing worse than anything we write / they read. They could get a smutty book from Amazon without even an age verification. Also, age verification is literally just a “we have faith kids won’t lie” button that you click to say you’re 18/21+ 😳. The Point: It’s your job to protect your kids, no one else’s. (Yet we still beg them to stay away/protect themselves)

Another thing is type of story. Most people seem to be in a “if there’s no smut I’m not reading” mindset nowadays. When I first started writing Angst / Dark were all people wanted. Now you have people astounded by dark Fics because “why would people want to read about that?” There’s also a lot of fic redundancies. Such as Vormir / Dead Natasha. Wanda cheating with Vision. Etc. That can get boring fast so a lot of fics are overlooked at the jump.

(For my writers block, I was able to work it out recently because I took a step back, condensed my requests, then I started writing fics for me again. Not sure if that’ll work for you, but it did me)

[udo0stories]

In 2019, the Board of Supervisors of San Francisco made history by voting to outlaw the use of face recognition by city agencies, including the police department. Since then, about two dozen additional US cities have done the same. However, voters in San Francisco appear to be against limiting police technology as they supported a ballot proposition on Tuesday that will facilitate the use of drones and other surveillance equipment by city police. London Breed, the mayor of San Francisco, supported Proposition E, which received 60% of the vote and passed. It grants the San Francisco Police Department additional authority to use drones and install security cameras without interference from the Board of Supervisors or Police Commission. Additionally, it relaxes the requirement that the SFPD obtain Board of Supervisors approval prior to implementing new surveillance technology, enabling requests to be made at any point during the first year. According to Matt Cagle, a senior staff attorney with the ACLU of Northern California, those modifications weaken other significant protections while maintaining the current ban on face recognition. "We fear that Proposition E will expose San Francisco residents to unsafe and unproven technology," he states. "This is a cynical attempt by powerful interests to take advantage of people's fears of crime and give the police more power." Supporters like Mayor Breed have framed it as a solution to the city of San Francisco's crime problem. Although overall crime rates have decreased, fentanyl has recently been the cause of an increase in overdose deaths, and commercial downtown neighborhoods are still dealing with a shortage of retail and office space as a result of the pandemic. Tech-related organizations also backed the proposal, such as the campaign group GrowSF, which did not reply to a request for comment. "We will continue in our mission to make San Francisco a safer city by supporting the work of our police officers, expanding our use of technology, and getting officers out of their desks and onto our streets," Mayor Breed stated in a statement following the proposition's approval. With the exception of a pandemic blip in 2020, she pointed out that 2023 saw the lowest crime rates in the city in ten years, and that violent and property crime rates would continue to fall through 2024. Proposition E also lessens paperwork requirements, including when officers use force, and gives police greater latitude to pursue suspects in automobile pursuits. The nonprofit organization Fight for the Future, whose campaign director and managing director is Caitlin Seeley George, has long opposed face recognition technology. She describes the proposal as "a blow to the hard-fought reforms that San Francisco has championed in recent years to rein in surveillance." "People's rights are being undermined and situations where people are more vulnerable to harm are being created," claims George, as a result of the police using surveillance technology more frequently while also decreasing transparency and oversight. While Cagle of the ACLU agrees with her that residents of San Francisco will feel less safe, he believes the city should continue to be known for having sparked a national backlash against surveillance. After San Francisco banned face recognition in 2019, about two dozen other cities did the same, many of them with the addition of new oversight procedures for police monitoring.

[the-knightmare]

A Call to Ears

@flufftober Prompt: wearing each other's clothes.

Louise hadn’t meant to get them caught in the rain. Her plan had been simple, sneak under the pier on the beach, carve their names with the others when no one was watching, and introduce Rudy to light vandalism before heading to his place to try those Japanese snacks his dad bought to impress some girlfriend. Everything had gone smoothly at first. Not many people were on the beach, the overcast sky and late August chill making an unattractive beach day. They had been able to carve their names with a utility knife Louise liked to pretend was a switchblade, and after admiring their handiwork had fled the scene of the crime.

Louise had peddled ahead, loving the feel of the breeze on her upturned face when it happened. A drop fell on her face. Then another, and another, until fat rain drops pelted her in a steady stream.

“We’re almost at my place, just a few more streets,” Rudy said, panting behind her and Louise noted to make him take his inhaler as soon as they got there.

“I know, Rudy, this isn’t my first time over.” This was a true statement. Louise had been to Rudy’s place many times over the years, his mom’s and dads, and knew the routes as well as she knew the way home. Despite also hanging out at Jessica and Millie’s houses a similar amount, Louise found she didn’t know as many routes to them. But she didn’t think about that too much.

Instead, she thought about the ten different flavours of kit-kats Rudy said his dad bought. How they’d taste so good after peddling like Olympic athletes through the rain, and how Rudy’s familiar wheeze kept her from going as fast as she was capable of on her bike. While he said that he was outgrowing his asthma now they were starting high school, Louise could tell it hadn’t really gone away by Rudy always packing his inhaler when hanging out. If anything, it had lessened enough for him to not take hourly puffs.

As they approached Rudy’s place, they were completely soaked. Louise locked herself in the bathroom with a towel and change of clothes courtesy of Rudy, while her clothes were placed in the dryer. Her trademark ears were brought by Rudy into his room, where he promised a portable heater in his closet would dry them quickly without damage. She tugged on a blue shirt and rocket ship pajama pants, trying not to blush at the scent of Rudy’s detergent. Her heart began to thud with how soft the shirt felt, and for a quiet moment Louise wondered if this was how all those girls felt when they wore their boyfriend’s sweaters.

“It’s nothing, just wearing borrowed clothes, nothing weird,” Louise muttered into the mirror, watching her face flush even more as her heart thudded, “get a grip.”

The slap was gentle, more like she had tapped her cheek than anything, but it was enough for Louise to come back to her senses. She waited a moment longer as her face returned to its normal colour, then exited the bathroom. Padding down the hall to Rudy’s room, Louise pushed the door open with only a brief warning for her presence.

“Hey, Rudy, I hope you’re decent cause-”

The rest of her sentence died in her throat at the sight of Rudy wearing her pink bunny ears. Rudy’s face turned bright red as he began to stammer out an apology and offered to let her slap him if she wanted. Louise was frozen for a moment, waiting for the rage to erupt at someone else wearing her ears. Instead, a laugh bubbled up without warning, and soon Louise was bent double with tears pouring out of her eyes as Rudy continued to apologize and comment on how mad she must be to laugh this wildly.

“Louise, I was just curious and-” a wheeze rasped in Rudy’s lungs that was followed with a cough, “and-”

“And you’re gonna take a puff of your inhaler before you pass out on me,” Louise said firmly, laughter replaced with concern, “did you even take it when we got here?”

“No,” Rudy gasped, “didn’t think I needed it then.”

“Well clearly that was wrong,” Louise rifled through Rudy’s bag he’d thrown on the bed earlier, shoving the inhaler in his face, “I’m gonna have to look after you forever, aren’t I?”

Her words hung between them as Rudy took a few puffs of his inhaler, looking unconcerned at her words. Louise felt awkward in a way she only felt after hitting puberty, and silently cursed herself for giving in to the very thing she had sworn would never affect her. Louise especially cursed herself for feeling that way about her best friend of all people.

“I suppose so.”

Rudy’s voice was slightly hoarse, and his words puzzled Louise for a moment who had been trying to forget she had said anything in the first place. When they sunk in, her face once again flushed hot, and the only thing preventing Rudy’s face from being slapped was his recent asthma attack. It definitely had nothing to do with her sudden desire to kiss him, not at all.

“Just don’t go wearing my ears anymore, okay?” Her mumble wasn’t as fierce as she could be and Rudy’s smile told her he knew any threat she uttered would be hollow, but he took mercy on her.

“Sure thing, I’m just happy to have someone who looks out for me. Want to try those snacks now? I think there’s Burobu themed hot chocolate packets we can make to warm up.”

 Rudy’s smile was both kind and teasing, something that made her stomach warm, and shoulders relax.

“Okay, but I get to take some kit-kats home.”

Louise followed Rudy into the living room, where they spent the rest of the afternoon picking through the treats as they watched reruns of some terribly dubbed anime. Between mouthfuls of chocolate and dramatic re-enactments of their favourite lines, Louise could fell that warmth settled deeper in her stomach and knew it wasn’t going away anytime soon. In retaliation, Louise stole her borrowed shirt; wearing it to bed that night and not at all thinking of how Rudy had a million chances that day to get it back.

[enhypia]

HS ; couples

couples answers questions with the choice of drinking instead of answering

pairings: lee heeseung x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst if you squint really hard

words: roughly 1.4k

masterlist ⸺ series masterlist

~guides and warnings~

italics - reader speaking

bold - heeseung speaking

[enclosed] - interviewer speaking

italicized bold - both reader and heeseung speaking

[enclosed bold or italics] - question (depends on who's speaking)

heavily inspired by: rec.create lie detector games, cut truth or drink

warning: contains and mentions of !!! drinking, swearing

i don't promote underage drinking, save your livers

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

hi! i'm (y/n)

hello, my name is heeseung!

and we're together

we're couples!

[you guys were invited here today as couples for a fun little drinking game, you guys were aware of that right?]

yes

we are

[okay, for this game, questions will be asked and if you refuse to answer, you drink, it's that simple. should we start?]

let's go, i can't wait to drink

so you won't be answering the questions?

i mean, it's free alcohol

*hee shakes his head in disbelief

[how long have you been together?]

we actually just had our 3rd anniversary last week

so 3 years now <33

[how did you two meet?]

pffft- *(y/n) laughs

can we just choose pass

shot!

*hee offers the shot glass to (y/n) and both take a shot, laughing after

we're drinking this early on damn

we met through a mutual friend

i was brought as a wingman

i think you can guess how it went

[but how did you guys become a couple?]

we got closer after meeting and i think it was obvious to the both of us that we were interested in each other

yeah but it still took a lot in me to ask you out

he stuttered the first time he asked me on a date

did i?

*(y/n) laughs at the memory

you went "hey, so uh you wa-"

*hee cuts (y/n) off by squishing their cheeks

we don't need a reminder

*(y/n) swats his hand away

but it was cute, don't worry

*(y/n) pats his head making heeseung smile

[okay, how about we officially start the game now?]

*both nod and played rock paper and scissors to determine who gets to ask first, (y/n) wins

*(y/n) reads the card and chuckles

[was it love at first sight?]

it wasn't

like i said, i was supposed to be a wingman so in my head, they were already off limits

i don't believe in love at first sight so *(y/n) shrugs

[do you have/did you have doubts with us being together?]

goddamn *(y/n) drinks

*heeseung is wide-eyed

no honey, not like that, i will answer, it's just that i need the alcohol boost

*the shock goes away

i was about to shed tears not gonna lie

*(y/n) rolls their eyes

when i agreed to becoming heeseung's significant others, i had no doubts, i knew what i felt was true and i knew his was too. the doubts were mainly on myself?? like "what if he just wakes and he doesn't love me anymore" but everyday heeseung proves to me that that will never happen

*(y/n) smiles at heeseung

*heeseung looks away trying to hide the smile and blush appearing on his face and he takes a shot refusing to meet (y/n)'s eyes

*(y/n) picks up a card and laughs

[if i become a zombie and had to eat people to survive, would you stick by side?]

heeseung gets scared easily i don't think he will

but if it's you...

*(y/n) raises an eyebrow

wait let me think about this more clearly

see! *(y/n) laughs

*heeseung continues to think

omg just say no!

but it's you !!!

i know it's me but baby we both know you'll run the other way once i start to eat people

...... you still love me right?

yes heeseung, i still love you

*hee :D

okay! next question!

*he picks up a card and laughs

oh i like this one.

[would you date any of my friends?]

*(y/n)'s mouth drops in shock

*(y/n) ultimately decides to play with heeseung

i mean.. *(y/n) reaches for a shot

*the grin on his face disappears

yah!

*(y/n) bursts into giggles and takes a shot

yah~ !!

[would YOU date any of my friends?]

*hee's eyes narrows and takes a shot for revenge

*both laugh at their antics

the answer is no guys, i love his friends but they're pretty much like annoying siblings

sorry (y/n)'s friends, (y/n) is the only one for me

but i'm pretty sure someone who used to be in my circle would jump at the chance

really ?? who ??

*(y/n) gives the look

AH! -

*scene cuts as he says a name

moving on.

*(y/n) picks up a card and laughs

[do you wish i offered to pay for more dates?]

MAN I WISH I COULD PAY MORE ON DATES

i like paying for our dates, but arguing with them is hard

yeah there was one time we spent 10 minutes bickering about who will pay, so we just made an agreement

we take turns per month, like for this month i'm the one paying for all the dates, then on the next month (y/n) will be paying

but everytime it's his month, he always tries to go out a lot, and when it's my month he opts to stay in

hehe

hEHE ??

*heeseung picks up a card and reads the question intently

*he is in deep thought

what is it?

[will you agree to an open relationship?]

ohhh

open relationship is when it's okay if you see other people right?

yup and i don't think i'd agree to it. you?

me as well

sorry im selfish, heeseung is mine, i do not share ;)

*heeseung laughs

yeah, sorry it's not for me, i don't think i can stomach seeing another one hold (y/n) , find your own

*(y/n) raises glasses to cheers and both take a shot

[it's okay not to drink if you answer]

yeah we know

but it's free alcohol

and drinking makes it more fun

*they hi-five

okay! next question,

[if i had to move away for many years, would you wait for me?]

yes.

wow no hesitations

yes i would wait for you

*(y/n) :O

yes

okay we get it

*they laugh

but i will, you're worth waiting for

your patience says otherwise

are you doubting my ability to wait?

do you hear yourself when you're playing?

that's with games, you're not a game, you're not something i play

*(y/n) blushes making heeseung laugh

shut up okay i get it

i also do not actually trust my patience

SEE ?!

*heeseung bursts out laughing

so instead of waiting i'd probably just go to them and/or visit them a lot

or just move in with me

*(y/n) avoids heeseung's stare

is this still related to the question or the present

huh? *(y/n) acts clueless

WAIT-

*camera cut

*we see both of them sporting a blush with big smiles on their face, and the alcohol evidently lessened

[freestyle! ask any question you want]

wah, i don't know what to ask

*he is thinking, everybody shut up

just keep it simple

no i want it to be hard

i can just actually follow the rules and drink instead of answering

*hee pouts

no you won't

*(y/n) :P

okay!

[did you like ... when we first met?]

oh the 'friend'?

yeah

*(y/n) drinks

*heeseung :O

*(y/n) xD

no heeseung, i did not like them, i really just saw them as a friend

ohh ouch sorry buddy

*they share a laugh

oh it's the last one

[question for both: what does loving each other feel like?]

awww that's a cute one, i'll go first

loving heeseung feels like the comfort your favorite songs bring you. it feels like the excitement you get whenever your favorite show releases a new episode. it's the deep sigh in content you release whenever you smell your favorite scent. it's just, loving him feels like everything your favorites make you feel.

*heeseung is not tearing up, definitely not, that's just sweat, he is also 100% not blushing, it's just hot

*he takes a shot and (y/n) laughs at his antics

now how am i supposed to beat that?!

let me be more romantic gosh

respectfully, no.

*both laugh

okay uhh, loving (y/n) feels like riding a rollercoaster. from all the emotions while waiting in line to exiting the ride. loving them is like the feeling of hitting a high note you previously couldn't. it's winning multiple prizes at the arcade. loving (y/n) is like the softness of a sunrise and the absolute wonder in staring at a night sky.

*(y/n) takes a shot not even bothering to hide their blush

why are we so cheesy and poetic when we're intoxicated damn

*heeseung laughs and agrees

forgive us if we're cringey

not our fault you're single

heeseung! :O

*he stays unapologetic

and that's it!

thank you for having us~

bye~

»————-　♡　————-«

bonus: youtube comments

masterlist ⸺ series masterlist

a/n: sorry this took so long, i caught up with everything i missed in my classes, i'll try to update the series more frequently. i will also be posting timestamps later since it's been days since i last posted. i hope you also like this one!! jay's will be posted next, please look forward to it <33