#I used to think we could communicate enough to work through anything and nothing would ruin our friendship

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[rowarn]

hybrid au part 3 - FINAL

other parts: one | two

cw: major character death, angst, happy ending tho, lack of communication, loving!kyle agenda, mentions of price finally

a/n: SO THAT'S IT. i hope it was worth the wait!!!! mwah!!!

Kyle noticed the way your light dimmed the following days. He was at a loss, one day you're bouncing off the walls and filling every room with the sweet sound of your purrs and the next it's cold and quiet. 

He tried everything, bringing home fragrant, expensive food and snacks, toys, whatever he could find that he thought would make you smile again. But nothing seemed to work. 

When you spend the entire day curled up on the couch, blankly watching TV, he decided he had enough. 

The following day, he was hooking your collar around your neck and forcing you to go outside into the sunshine. 

Your eyes burned as you stepped out beneath the sun's blazing beams. Days spent indoors, sleeping most of the daytime hours away, had accustomed you to darkness. It was hot and you already wanted to go back inside but one pitiful look towards Kyle told you that you were not getting out of this easily.

So you hang your head and allow him to lead you down the sidewalk. The military housing area was surprisingly quiet, the only sound was a lawnmower somewhere nearby. 

Kyle was silent, content with keeping his hand on the small of your back, a kind, protective gesture to assure you that he was still there as you glared at the sidewalk. 

Before you knew it, the quietness of the neighborhood grew louder and louder until you were walking through the gate of the hybrid-park. 

You looked around, watching all the happy hybrids and owners running around and playing lighthearted rounds of soccer or football. Casting a glance to Kyle, he gives you a crooked, boyish smile. 

“What do you wanna do?” he asks, glancing around, “We can take a lap around the park if you'd like?” 

You shake your head, “Can we just sit?” 

“Sure, sweetheart,” he coos, nudging you in the direction of an empty bench. 

You both take a seat, and look out across the park. While the nights still got quite chilly, it was beautiful during the day - a soothing breeze that rustled the green leaves in the trees and clear blue skies that you could look at for hours. 

You hated to admit it but - Kyle was right. You were starting to feel better, like a weight was being lifted off your shoulders. Being cooped up in the house didn’t help anything, in fact it probably made things worse.

A hand patted your head and you looked over to see Kyle beaming, as if he could see the tension just melt off of you. 

“I'm going to get us something to drink,” he muttered as he stood up, “Lemonade okay with you?” 

You nod your head, fluffy ears bouncing atop your head as you do. Kyle has to resist the urge to reach out and pet them, forcing himself to turn around and find a drink stand to get the lemonade from.

You're staring off at a dog hybrid and a young boy playing a heated game of soccer when you hear your name being called. 

Your head whips around to see Johnny standing there, tail wagging and eyes wide in shock. It's obvious he ran all the way over to where you are from the way his shoulders heave up and down with his heavy panting. 

“I-” he clears his throat, thinking over what he wanted to say, “I've missed ye.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, making the blood rush in your ears, “Johnny…”

“Come home,” he says, desperate and breathless, “I miss ye and I want ye to come back.” 

“Simon doesn't want me, Johnny…” you mutter, feeling shame burn at your cheeks as you look down at your hands - nails neatly filed down by Kyle just a few days ago. 

“To hell with him!” he spits, “I want you back, isn't that enough?” 

Your frown deepens. His selfishness ignites irritation within you, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“Why?” you ask, voice breaking as the word slips past your lips, “Why should I have to live like that? Being hated while you get to be loved?” Johnny says your name but you cut him off before he can say anything else, “That's not fair, Johnny. I have Kyle now and he loves me! I'm happy with him.”

“Can't ye be happy with me too?” he asks, sad, teary eyes cutting right through your heart. 

“Of course I could Johnny but…” before you can continue there's a sharp call of the pup’s name and both of you freeze. 

Johnny looks over his shoulder to see Simon jogging up behind him, a fierce glare in his brown eyes. A rough, gloved hand grabs the back of the hybrid’s collar. 

“What the hell do you think you're doin’ runnin’ off like that?” Simon snaps, anger masking the clear worry he had experienced at his missing companion. 

“I was just…” Johnny’s eyes drift to you and that's when Simon acknowledges your existence. 

The sneer on his face is clear even through the mask and it makes you shrink in on yourself, ears flattened back. Even after all this time, the sting of his rejection remains strong and hurts just the same. 

“What’s a gutter rat like you doin’ here?” Simon snaps. 

It annoys him that you're always at the source of his problems with Johnny. Whenever the pup misbehaves, you're always there. A bad influence. Typical cat. 

You look at Johnny. He doesn’t meet your gaze, instead staring up at his owner with an apologetic expression. You want him to speak up. You want him to defend you, to tell Simon to be nice or to apologize or tell him what you mean to him. 

But Johnny just sighs, “Sorry, Si.” 

The lack of defense towards you in the face of Simon solidifies everything for you in that moment. You look down at your lap, the crack in your heart only aching and stinging more and more with every beat of silence that passes between the three of you. 

Something ice cold touches the back of your neck and you yelp, launching yourself off the bench and onto the ground. Laughter fills your ears and you turn to glare at Kyle who holds a large plastic cup of lemonade - the cold thing he’d just surprised you with. 

“Sorry, love!” he apologizes but the laughter shows he's anything but. 

Soap speaks up then, asking if Kyle knows you. Your owner’s brown eyes shine with pride as he affectionately ruffles your hair.

“Found them on the street and brought them home!” Kyle tells them, sounding much like a proud father, “Best decision of my life!”

Your cheeks burn at his praise, his kind, loving words remedy the painful stinging in your heart that had been brought on by your previous owner. You take the cup of lemonade when he offers it to you, taking a sip and cringing at the sour taste that hits your tongue – much to Kyle’s amusement.

“You guys are welcome to come over anytime,” Kyle says, smiling as he affectionately pets your ears, “I’m sure this cute kitten would love to have a friend to hang out with.”

“Yeah…maybe,” Simon mumbles, sending you a sidelong glance that was cold and empty – telling you everything you needed to know without saying it. Absolutely not.

You find that you don’t mind that much. The idea of never seeing Simon or his painfully hateful gaze was nice. But when you looked at Johnny, who was staring at you in despair – you find yourself mumbling in response, “Maybe someday.”

The hope in Johnny’s eyes seers into your mind, even long after you’ve parted ways and gone home for the day. 

The days pass in relative ease. The depressive rut you found yourself in melts away and Kyle is thrilled to see that you’ve returned to your bright, bubbly self. You greet him at the door when he walks in, sit and purr beside him while you both eat dinner together, curl up against his side and happily snooze the night away. 

It’s peaceful bliss.

But one evening, Kyle returns home and tosses his heavy duffle bag onto the floor with a thunk. You get up to greet him, stretching your arms high above your head before padding over to him with a sleepy smile on your face. Kyle opens his arms for you, letting you tuck yourself into his chest for a hug. A loud purr emanates from your chest that only seems to make Kyle’s shoulders drop.

“What’s the matter?” you ask when you catch a look at his face when he pulls away; brows furrowed and lips in a tight line.

“Just got some sad news, that’s all, lovie,” he mutters, patting your head before he moves into the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

“What news?” you ask, following after him, tail swishing nervously behind you. 

Did his parents pass away? Did a friend get hurt?

Kyle sets out some vegetables on the counter, hunting around for a knife before sighing, “You remember Simon and Johnny? We met them at the park the other day?”

You nod your head, “Of course.”

“There was an accident a couple days ago,” Kyle explains, slowly chopping up the celery on the cutting board, “Johnny got hit. He didn’t make it. Simon’s tore up about it.”

It feels like everything freezes right then and there for you. You no longer hear the chopping of the knife, no longer hear Kyle's voice or the sound of traffic outside on the street. All you can hear is the pounding in your ears and the sound of your own breathing.

Images flash behind your eyes in your grief. You can see Johnny’s boyish smile and his boisterous laugh emanating down the hallway. You can see him so clearly, wrapped around you as you snuggle and snooze together as the rain falls outside. You can hear the animated way he would tell you stories, waving his hands around and his tail thumping loudly on the floor.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel a hand cup your cheek. You blink away the tears and Kyle’s face comes into view, worry etched onto it. 

“What is it, lovie? Why are you crying?” he asks, clearly concerned.

“Johnny’s dead?” you ask, voice broken and wobbly as you fight to talk through tears.

“Yeah, love,” Kyle coos, thumbing beneath your eyes to rub away some tears, “Why are you so upset?”

Everything tumbles from your lips then. You tell him about how you lived on the street, how your life changed the day you met a rambunctious pup who wouldn’t take no for an answer until he had himself a friend. You tell Kyle about how, even though Simon was awful to you, Johnny was a light in the dark and how much you adored him and how much he meant to you. You tell him how Simon threw you out like trash and how much it hurt and how much you missed Johnny despite everything. 

Kyle held you through it all, tucking you tenderly against his chest as you cried it all out.

“I had no idea, lovie,” he whispers into your hair, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead when your breathing becomes erratic. 

“I-I never got to settle things with him,” you wail, “He wanted me to come home and I-I couldn’t give him an answer.”

Kyle sighs, cupping the back of your head, rocking you back and forth until your cries quiet down to hiccuping sniffles, “It’ll be alright, sweetheart. Everything will be okay.”

Truthfully, he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn't know how he can make this hurt go away or help you soothe the grief you’re experiencing. All he can do is hold you close and comfort you whenever you need.

This time, when Kyle notices how sad you are as the days pass, he doesn’t force you to leave the house or do anything. He just lets your sadness run its course, doing what he can to ease your burden by making your favorite dishes and letting you watch your favorite movies over and over again until he can practically recite them by heart.

There’s a knock at the door that startles the both of you one evening. Kyle’s on his feet in seconds, hand drifting towards the firearm he keeps nearby before he looks through the peephole on the door and relaxes. 

You peek over the back of the couch as he opens the door. Simon stands there. 

Although he is masked, you can practically see how worn down and utterly devastated he is. 

“What’s up?” Kyle asks, hand twitching to reach out for the older man but thinks better of it. “Do you need something?”

“I wanna talk to that one,” Simon nods in your direction, where you’re still peeking over the couch. 

Kyle turns to look at you over his shoulder, asking your consent. You think it over for a few seconds before you nod your head. Not like Simon would do anything with Kyle here. 

He steps aside to let the larger man enter and closes the door, giving an excuse about getting drinks before disappearing into the kitchen.

Simon’s heavy boots vibrate the floor as he takes a few large steps towards you. You scoot to the other side of the couch when he sits down, the couch bouncing with his added weight.

His hands are folded between his knees where he rests his elbows on them. His tattooed skin ripples and flexes as he nervously fidgets with his hands. 

“Johnny wanted you to come home,” he starts out, staring intently at the floor. You swear you can see tears beading at his lower lash line as he says his companions name, “So I’m here to see if you will.”

“You want me back?” you ask softly, anxiously pulling a pillow into your lap.

Simon nods, “It’s what Johnny wanted. He cared about you, loved you. You’re all I have left of him.”

You’re silent at that. 

Despite everything, your heart aches for Simon. He adored Johnny more than anything – even if he hated you, his love for the pup was palpable. You could see it in his face every time he saw Johnny, eyes scrunching up happily. Johnny was his world and now that world was gone and Simon was left with nothing but bitter emptiness and a void that he was desperate to fill. 

You found yourself opening your mouth, ready to agree – ready to be the one to soothe your ex-owners devastating hurt. But then you found yourself looking into the kitchen, to Kyle’s back. He was hunched over the counter, vigorously mixing something in a bowl and you realized that you didn’t want to leave him. 

Kyle was yours. Kyle was everything you could ever need or want. He wanted and loved you when you thought no one else would. He didn’t give up on you even when you were difficult and cold. He cared about you, thought about you every day. He gave you everything you wished for so desperately during your time living with Simon. 

“I can’t,” you find yourself whispering, tears filling your eyes at how much it hurt to turn Simon away, “I know Johnny would want me to be with you, to make sure you’re okay without him but…I love Kyle and I want to stay with him.”

“So that’s it then?” Simon asks, voice small and weaker than you’ve ever heard it before. You know there’s a crushing weight on his heart right now, knowing he will be going home alone to a painfully empty and cold house. 

“Yeah…” You whisper, unable to look up at him as he rises to his feet. 

Kyle comes out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl in his hands, asking Simon if he was okay as he passes by him to the front door. The larger man just grunts in response and opens the door. The quiet click of it closing is all you hear of his departure before the warm bowl is in your lap. 

It’s a bowl of broth that makes your mouth water. The fact Kyle had made it for your just because warmed your heart.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, sitting down next to you, arm tossed over the couch behind you, fingers mindlessly stroking over the fuzzy surface of your ear.

“He wanted me to go home with him,” you respond, taking a sip of the broth.

“You said no?” he asks. You catch the worry in his tone – like he was scared you were going to tell him you were leaving him soon.

But you nod and his body relaxes in relief, “He only wanted me back because I reminded him of Johnny. He didn’t really want me, just the image of Johnny.”

Kyle nods, leaning over to kiss your temple, “That man loved that pup. But I’m glad you’re here to stay.”

You look over at him from over the bowl of broth as you sip it, “Yeah?”

“I would have let you go if that’s what you really wanted but…” He looks a little sheepish as he continues, “It would have hurt to see you go, kitty. I meant it when I said adopting you was the best decision of my life.”

You place the bowl down on the coffee table before launching yourself into his arms. He grunts as your weight slams against him, knocking him back onto the couch as he laughs. His arms wrap around you in a bear hug, squeezing you so hard that your ribs ache but you don’t even think about trying to pull away.

Though you don’t say it, he knows that you’re his to keep and that you love him just as much as he loves you. He couldn’t imagine life without you now. 

BONUS: 

“I think my boss is gettin’ impatient to meet you, you know,” he mumbles in your shoulder.

“Your boss?” you ask, voice almost too quiet to hear over your loud purring.

“Yeah, the old man’s been dyin’ to meet the cute kitten I talk about all the time at work,” he explains.

“You talk about me?” you ask, peeking up shyly.

He grins, “All the time. I think everyone’s sick of my voice at this point. But the Captain's really been begging to come and meet you. I’ve been waiting for a good time to bring it up. He’s a bit of a lover so you’d have to put up with all the pets and hugs he has to offer.”

Your eyes shine in interest, “I want to meet him!”

Kyle chuckles, reaching up to pet one of your twitching ears, “I’ll make the call then and set up dinner.”

You were excited to meet a new person. You hoped he was as kind and gentle as Kyle was. And even though the idea of Simon sitting alone and hurt in his house with nothing but the memories of his best friend, you weren’t going to let that stop you from opening up new chapters in your own life. 

do not repost on other websites, translate, or modify. reblogs welcome!

[carlyraejepsans]

Rate UT characters on likely they are to eat spoiled food

premise: as monster food does not spoil, this speculation is based on how i think they'd treat human food in the post pacifist ending

frisk. trash burger. enough said. (also i hc that they grew up on the streets, so... not a lot of chances to be picky with your food.)

sans. second most likely. there's milk in the fridge bought specifically for him to drink out of the carton whenever frisk's or papyrus' friends come to visit, like a stereotypical disney channel older brother (he loves being annoying on purpose). it's been there for a month. he's still not done with it. it's probably rancid. enjoyer of food and lover of even shittier food. mr worst burger on the menu. he is ESPECIALLY gross about food and he is gross about it on purpose, he will peel an apple for papyrus and then take a bite out of it before cutting him a slice. and then call him a wuss when he acts disgusted. ("stop being a baby bones, we have the same germs anyway" "NO WE DON'T. *YOU* HAVE GERMS! AND I DON'T WANT ANY OF THEM!!" "why? they're pedigreed" "OUGH!?!!"). he mostly uses it as a chance to make a gag (or a lack of gagging, lol) but his strong stomach did also come in handy in the early days of papyrus' interest in cooking

mettaton, of sequins-and-glue hamburgers fame. he's technically tied for 2nd place with sans, but i put him in third because i feel like sans does it on purpose, for mettaton it's more like... a side effect of starting life off as a ghost. few people question it since he's a robot now.

alphys. she doesn't go out of her way to do it, but she buys her snacks in industrial pallet-fuls to reduce social interactions to a minimum, so by the time she reaches the last 3 or 4 packets of blue takis, they're well past their expiration date. not that it stops her. now, this wouldn't happen on the surface because she gets better and has a solid support system, but if monster food could spoil back when she was going Through it with the amalgamates, i feel like she'd either be too depressed or tired to care and eat it, or she'd tumble into a "g-god. you can't even take care of your own f-food. is there anything you can't fuck up" self-deprecation spiral and lose her appetite altogether

flowey. did it to see what would happen. nothing did. never did it again. tbh I just don't think he eats much of anything, spoiled or not.

undyne. getting into the "wouldn't eat spoiled food" tier. she actually thinks it's really gross but papyrus tricks her into doing it by challenging her machismo. she gets SO sick from it. they do this aprox 3 times a month. rinse and repeat

asgore. he's a gardener, and i can see him working in a community garden on the surface, so he'd have access to a lot of fresh produce, for both himself and to give away. however, if some of it were to go bad, he'd probably cut off the affected bit and eat the rest so it doesn't go to waste.

toriel. she is SUPER careful about expiration dates and mold and checks to make sure all she owns is still safe to eat almost weekly. this level of care, however, is mostly meant for other people, not herself, but she would really rather not eat anything that's gone bad. same reasoning as alphys', IF monster food could spoil when she was still in the RUINs, i could technically see her biting the bullet, if only because 1) she was also heavily depressed and struggling to take care of herself, though i think she might sooner skip out on the meal altogether, rather than eat something spoiled, and 2) the awkward stares from the other monsters in the RUINs supermarket might not be something she's willing to deal with on any given day.

papyrus. he would NOT. no way. master of cleaning, germophobe extraordinaire papyrus (well, not really, but he plays the part). if toriel is meticulous, papyrus is obsessive. there better not be a SINGLE spot on his food. and no lines or plaid patterns either!! he WILL wash it untill it goes away. with soap probably. canonically a picky eater to begin with (his picks are just weird as balls). can should and WILL get on sans' ass about his unhealthy eating habits, and that includes eating food that's gone bad.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! Because I just saw the post on ao3 and donations, and a different post about ao3s updated statement regarding chatgpt/ai generated fiction, and you generally have a good read on things like this - what's your opinion on it, and how its meant to be interpreted?

(I want to good faith believe, and its a complicated/ongoing topic, but wanted to hear your thoughts)

I don't know which post about the update you mean, Anon, but I assume the update referenced is the one the OTW posted on 5/13 about AI scraping and ChatGPT. I do have some thoughts but I want to go through the post a little because I don't think I'm actually needed to interpret this one -- I think with some critical thought anyone can, but a lot of people don't get critical thinking training in school, so I want to do a little demo of it.

Pre-emptively, this is a list of things I'm not an expert on: copyright law, data scraping, AI, website design, and the legality of certain forms of freedom of expression. But honestly for this you don't need to be.

First and foremost, we really have no reason to disbelieve OTW when they speak on this subject. While there's debate and discussion about AO3 and certainly it's imperfect in a number of directions, they are pretty transparent, generally speaking. I don't believe there is a reason to approach AO3 with an assumption of disingenuity in a general sense. However, the organization is run by humans, who are imperfect and can sometimes be deceitful, so it's good to always approach public statements with a critical eye.

So the post is talking about two separate but related issues: preventing AIs from scraping AO3, and policy on AI-generated works being posted. What we are looking for, from both, is a combination of things: we want what they're saying to make sense both in the world, and within the statement -- no contradictions, nothing that seems illogical, nothing that seems like baseless assumption or generalization. We want simple prose, and we want a look at the reasoning behind the actions they're taking.

When talking about AI scraping, they start with what they've done to counteract scraping, speaking in relatively simple terms but with enough specificity that if you wanted you could look up anything you didn't understand. They list what they've done to prevent scraping, and they also discuss the issues with the kinds of measures that would need to be implemented to fully prevent it. They mention specific examples that people were concerned about, and they talk about what they'll be doing going forward.

In terms of the text, this all makes sense to me -- here's what we've done, here's the problem with doing more, here's what we plan to do next. Internally, no matter what the topic is, this section is logical, there are no contradictions and no particular evasions. Critically it passes muster. Additionally, with the knowledge I do have of website design and data management, I can tell that they're doing all they reasonably can. From a standpoint of ignorance, the statement makes internal sense; from a standpoint of knowledge, they're doing what I would do in their place.

When talking about AI-generated works, likewise, they're pretty open about their process and reasoning. They say look, this isn't against TOS as it stands, and here's a reminder of why, followed by a mission statement. The bolded text of that statement is very clear, and correlates with what I said in an earlier post: their policy is maximum inclusivity of fanworks. This statement is consistent with policy AO3 has held for years, which is well-known to the community.

They go on to discuss how AI-generated work could violate spam policies, but those spam policies apply to everyone everywhere, and they remind us that we can always have the Policy & Abuse team examine a work we're skeptical of. (Inside baseball, I know some people who have beef with Policy & Abuse for being unresponsive, particularly in certain cases where harassment is involved. However, within this document, they are saying both "here's why we do this" and "if you have a problem, here's the first step.")

Again, after saying what's happening and what's being done about it, they move on to say that these are only current policies, and may change depending on future developments, and that those changes will be made available for public discussion. This is once more internally logical, and with the benefit of outside knowledge, perfectly rational.

Because I agree with them -- when I saw there was an "updated" statement from OTW on AI-generated prose I was frankly alarmed because I think banning AI-generated prose from AO3 causes way more problems than it solves. It's pretty restrained of them not to bring up the issue in more detail, but it's not difficult for those of us familiar with the community to project outwards as to why banning AI prose might be a bad thing.

So, think about what happens if an AI prose ban goes into effect and you read a fic you think was AI generated. How can you tell? Have you read some of the human-generated prose on AO3? Some of it's not great. So really in that case, what you're banning is someone saying they AI-generated the fic, which means AI-generated fic would still show up, it just couldn't be tagged as such. It's like Prohibition -- they banned alcohol and people still drank. They poisoned the alcohol and people drank the poisoned alcohol (check out paragraph five for specifics). If you ban something off the archive it'll still show up there, it just won't be tagged, so instead of a bag labeled "dead dove, do not eat" you just step on a land mine in your kitchen. AI prose is not content in the way that say incest or underage sex is; I'm against banning those as well, but at least with those you can pretty clearly say "yes this is" or "no this isn't" based on objective criteria. You can't do that with "was this made by a human or a machine" when it comes to prose.

Which leads to the second issue: if a text is reported as AI-generated and the author says "No, I wrote that," how do you prove otherwise? If you report an author for uploading AI-generated prose, all that will happen is either they just say "No, I wrote that" or someone on AO3's abuse team unilaterally decides that yes, this is AI prose, and punts someone off the website who might just be kind of a crap writer, which is not a sin or a crime. Either way it's a waste of time. So introducing a ban on AI prose is really just introducing either a useless show-law that will still cause AI prose to be posted there, just without proper tagging, or a tool to harass people with. Harassment is already an issue on the archive.

And we can reason all this out for ourselves simply by asking "What is the good-faith reason for not banning AI prose?" Assuming good faith isn't just for blindly trusting, after all; it's also for reasoning out other peoples' motivations for things.

And frankly fandom gets a little weird about assuming bad faith when it comes to anyone who has the least bit of power within the community. It's something I've encountered personally, as someone with some clout in fandom who is occasionally assumed to have weirdly malevolent intent. I'm not malicious. I'm just an awkward dumbass. But this is just something fandom does, so it's also good to check oneself and go, "Hey, is this person being genuinely malevolent or am I just assuming wickedness because it's easier to be mad at a villain than to explore the complexities of these acts?"

It's why I deliberately didn't speculate about the person who uploaded an AI fanfic and didn't respond to others doing so in comments. That person is right there. You don't have to assume any intent at all, you can just ask them. And it's so much more educational to do so!

So yeah, actually real props to whoever wrote that post by the OTW -- it's internally logical, reasonably transparent, simply written, and avoids a lot of prose pitfalls that I would absolutely fall into (did fall into, in this very post). I think within this area, they are doing what they can to prevent scraping and making the correct decisions, for now, regarding AI content on the archive.

[gotham-daydreams]

Hi im so sorry if this has been asked before but in your not series, which i absolutely adore by the way, Since Alfred getting the batfam to see the videos and investigate is what kicked the batfam off on their yandere domino effect, what would have happened if y/n kept in contact with Alfred and only Alfred? Maybe giving him little updates, nothing that could really be tracked but enough to tell them how everything is going maybe like through letters with no return address or something. would he still have done what he did? Or would we still have something else to kick the batfam off on their yandere mode, or would they just never realize that the y/n was gone?

Hello!

Considering what happens in the series and everything- I'd say that Alfred still would try to get the Batfam to look for Y/n. Since, well, I'll let you on a tiny little secret; Y/n did sort of do something like that, but its gotten to a point where there is less 'character', and it's more to the point. It's almost as if Y/n is trying to further distance themselves from the family altogether, and I wonder why they'd go and do something like that 🤔

Though- for the sake of the ask, let's say that all of that has yet to happen, and Y/n has been pretty good about sending letters and such. Alfred would be happier than he is in the series, I'll say that much, but ultimately I think he'd still eventually send out the Batfam to look for Y/n.

This is because Alfred wants to talk with Y/n, and I think I may have mentioned this in another ask- but he basically doesn't want to have to further deal with this "one sided nonsense" as I believe I put it. With no return address, or really anything to go off of location wise- even if he did write something back (and he has), then there would be no way he could send it to Y/n. Not to mention that over the months Y/n has been gone did he get more... greedy as he began to miss them.

Yes the letters are nice, and he does deeply appreciate and love how they're trying to keep in contact with him and only him by using such means, but that ultimately isn't enough for him. He wants to talk with them too, he wants to communicate, and most of all- he just wants to see them again. (Which, that in itself includes a bit more than just simply seeing Y/n, but that's for later.)

He wants to be in their presence again, and just... bond and talk with them without the pen and paper. He wants things to go 'back to normal' in that way, since he doesn't necessarily care if Y/n stays in the manor or not (he does, but he can look past it under certain conditions), he just wants to see them. A want which can develop into an obsessive need- kind of like how it does in the series.

Really, the way to have a happy Alfred that won't send the fam after your ass, is to honestly just visit him once in a while. Which, in itself may be a bit hard if you don't like the Batfam, and aren't willing to even risk them seeing you in the slightest, or just generally aren't comfortable in the Manor at this point. But even if it's just helping him out a bit in the garden, or generally with outside work, or sneaking in just to snag a snack he left out, then he'll be a significantly happier camper that won't manipulate and guilt trip the rest of the family to come and bring you back home. Not right away, anyways.

Just make sure he doesn't ever know if you get hurt or something. Especially if you got hurt at home or because of someone close to you. The intention will hardly matter to Alfred, believe me. The happier you keep him, and watch what you say, the less likely it is that he'll begin to start looking for little things that he'll use as reasoning for kick starting the family acknowledging/worrying about you.

Overall, just through letters and essentially one sided conversations, yeah- Alfred will still basically kick start everything.

The little updates and such will be appreciated, and he'll be fine at first, but at some point he's going to get more greedy, and will want to see Y/n. The letters and such won't be enough, and even if he'll still hang onto them, he's too selfish to be fully content with them for long.

So, yeah! Everything still sort of goes down about the same way as the series! :]

I hope this answered your question!

[decolonize-the-left]

Is anyone else just completely disillusioned? Done?

I could not think any less of people still talking about celebrities or how their biggest issues are not having a Starbucks cup that's $50

Like why are we as a collective letting people like that run the lives of everyone on the planet? A planet rife with unnecessary conflict and greed? People who can't be bothered to just Not go to chick-fil-a?

Why are people who clearly value profit over humanity in charge of humanity, ykwim? How the fuck did that become a majority opinion?

I drive thru my nuclear town, I go to our community events, our local small businesses, I try to support my community in ways I can everyday. But I can't help but notice that So Many of the people who do that alongside me, don't show up to protest for the rights of the people they claim to support.

Its all so incredibly shallow and one dimensional and obviously disingenuous and why the fuck are the rest of STILL begging for the ability to make changes within the framework they built?

Why are we still making educational posts for them and trying to make them understand when the first thing we are taught about reaching understand is that you must first be willing to listen and they refuse.

The ruling classes never listened. Never, ever have they granted anyone any oppressed group rights that they asked for without the group needing to fight for it. And it's always after generations of oppression.

I'm fucking tired of being nice and pretending the laws they made up matter and like their socially constructed bureaucracy is the only way to make change to be quite fucking honest.

They're LUCKY we use it EVER and now they don't even fucking listen to our voicemails?

The only things stopping me from taking what's mine are disabilities and I'm Dying to know what everyone else's excuses are.

Or is that?

Are we all physically too incapable? Is every single able bodied person actually a liberal fascist?

Asking for the disabled Turtle Mountain Ojibwe person typing this who's life literally depends on y'all caring enough about other people to make life anything but a list of systematic circumstances I'll suffer from until I eventually die early of an illness I can't afford medical aids for and which are not provided for me either.

And if you're able bodied and you feel the same... Start working outside that framework and stop asking so nicely. Stop giving a shit if you don't have the support of the oppressors and their liberal foot soldiers.

Stop worrying about what CNN is gonna say about you because I promise that the people who matter and Understand you will be inspired to follow in your foot steps and supportive.

Get active in your co-ops, mutual aid groups, and consider training like you're black bloc.

Learn what direct action is and how to do it and start doing it. Just reading theory era is over.

More of this

less whatever the level of cognitive dissonance this is

Imagine saying 'i voted so I did everything I could' like the suffragettes didn't have an arson and bombing campaign because the people who Could vote were people benefitted from their systemic silence and thus did almost Nothing to help them get voting rights and they Refused to let oppressor laziness be their obstacle.

Yeah, they don't teach you that in Voting Matters School the suffragettes were bombing the UK just a year or two before they got their rights do they?

The only language oppressors will listen to is their own.

And I'm Tired of pretending otherwise because that delusion is what makes the privileged feel like they don't have to do anything but vote and makes them feel they're justified to criticize those of us that fight back through other avenues.

And maybe if we had politicians that gave a shit about any of us then those votes and movements and public sentiment would have a bigger sway in government, but they don't.

They don't fucking care.

Why are we still giving them power over any of us and letting them tell us what to do and demonize us when they use that power allowed to kill us and bury us in unmarked graves in some field in Mississippi? And make everything so expensive that the richest citizens on earth struggle to pay their bills?

Why can a government only "condemn" a state agent's right to shoot an unarmed protester 57 times, but they can bypass Congress to send Israel billions upon billions worth of weapons?

I'm tired of pretending this country is anything but a front for White Supremacists when every liberal I see is trying to gaslight everyone into thinking genocide is acceptable.

Shut the fuck up and get out of my equality tags, fascist.

[bby-deerling]

nico robin x who is it for the 250 event!

congrats on the 250 milestone!!! here’s to reaching 500 🥂

thank you so much!!! cheers both to growth and the amazing community we have here that makes it possible! (also, another galaxy brain request i had so much fun writing this)

robin + who is it (nsfw, gn!reader)

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 757, masterlist

cw: very inappropriate use of devil fruit, fingering (both ways, gn!reader so you pick which hole), oral (robin receiving), jealousy

You and Robin were both mature adults, with a particular arrangement that had no strings of exclusivity explicitly attached; however, neither of you had dared to venture outside of each other for quite a long time, and it seemed the two of you had slowly moved towards a deeper level of commitment together. 

Or so you thought.

You should be overstimulated and unable to think right now.  Robin’s many hands are all over you, sweet scent of flowers overpowering you as she gropes and kneads and teases every part of your body with delicate fingers.  Her gasps and moans fill your ears as your fingers curl inside her, head thrown back in ecstasy.  Tongue dancing across her clit, you should be in heaven right now, but all you can focus on is her shoulder—the dark, maroon hickey on her shoulder.

Maybe you would have been less bothered if the Sunny was docked at an island, and the person who left their mark on her could have been a faceless stranger, never to be thought of or seen again, but you had been sailing for long enough that the culprit had to be someone else on the ship—someone too close for your comfort.  The thought lights a fire in you, making you double your efforts to make her fall apart, desperate to prove your worth and defend your place at her side and in her bed.

Gazing up at her, you can tell you have her close, watching the heave of her gorgeous chest as her breathing quickens.  Your movements nearly stutter as she desperately grasps at you with her many hands, wanting to feel and devour every bit of you as she reaches her high.  Her hips grind at your face as she comes, leaving a layer of slick across the bottom of your face that your tongue eagerly darts out to clean up.

“Are you alright?” Robin asks as she regains her senses, voice still breathy and expression brimming with concern as she catches the distant look in your eyes.

Words collect themselves on your tongue, but all you can do is stammer, trying to find the right combination; you were hurt and bothered, but didn’t want to come off as accusatory or hostile.  Luckily, you end up not having to say anything as her eyes light up with realization.

“Was this bothering you?” she asks, pointing to the mark with a smile.  You nod, and swallow hard, eyeing her nervously and awaiting her explanation.

“You missed it, our captain was in quite the biting mood before lunch today.  I came out with minor injuries; our poor sniper, however, got quite a few chunks taken out of him.” she says, trying and failing to hold back a giggle.

The deep breath you let out is shaky, exhaling all of the worries and nerves you had built up.  Electricity starts to buzz through your head, relieved that Robin hadn’t felt the need to seek the company of someone else after all.

“Were you jealous?” she asks, smiling smugly with a teasing lilt to her voice.

“No…” you lie, averting your eyes, far too embarrassed to admit you had gotten so worked up, especially now that you knew the truth. 

The hands covering your body resume their gentle touches and squeezes, caressing planes on your form that you had never given a second thought.  To be touched this completely, this intimately, was nothing short of intoxicating and addictive.  

A finger circles your hole, gently teasing it; you’re wet and eager and begging, but she grins at you, enjoying watching you writhe and plead for even more of her.

“Who’d you think it was?” she asks, curious to know where your suspicions were directed.  To entice you to answer, she presses just the very tip of her finger into you, before withdrawing it and making you whine, a silent message that you wouldn’t get what you wanted until you fessed up.

“I thought it was Law.” you admit, ashamed at your jealous thoughts, but powerless to her methods of interrogation; when Robin has your body in her hands, she has the unique talent of stripping your mind and soul raw as well, and eagerly consuming them all.

She giggles at the notion.  “Funny.  He couldn’t possibly handle me.”  Her finger finally slips into your slick hole, making you let out a soft whine as your head feels dizzy.

“I don’t feel the need to go anywhere else.” she assures you.  “No one can take what I give them quite like you can, dear.”

[three-penguins-in-a-trench-coat]

What happened to Morris after the collapse of Pelican Town's Joja Mart?

In the main storyline of Stardew Valley, after you complete all of the Community Centre bundles, Morris "is never seen in Stardew Valley again." But what happened to him.

A part of me would like to think that he had to face the angry Chief Executives and explain to them how he managed to not only lose the profits of an entire town, but as to why he let the Pelican Town Joja Mart fall into disrepair? Perhaps he was fired on the spot, and spent the rest of his days bouncing from job to job, wallowing in sadness. He mopes and drinks, works a shitty 9-5 for an investment firm, and sees no future for himself. People take pity, until they hear him speak and work out what a greed-driven creature he is.

More likely, Joja Corp absorbs the losses, Morris is moved to manage a new location and on a server file buried somewhere in the goliath that is Joja Corp, the Pelican Town Joja Mart is crossed off, and a tag put up that says reinstating a Joja Mart would not increase profits. Morris, angry and hell-bent on revenge, climbs up the corporate ladder until he reaches a position where he is so powerful he has the authority to make executive decisions.

Perhaps one day, he orders that all shipments of goods sent out into the area are ceased immediately. And not just Joja. Through a series of shell corporations, bribery and in one in instance completely absorbing the multi-million business into Joja's fold, he is completely able to stop anything from making it to Pelican Town. No construction materials, no food, no help. When you have as much money as Joja does, it's not that hard to cut off phone lines and internet service if you know the right government officials. Within a week, the entire road is blocked off. All contact with the town is ceased. It essentially disappears from maps. Morris has gone mad with power, and he's used it to seek revenge on those who bested him once before.

The people of Stardew are forced into a siege. With supplies dwindling, they begin panicking. One day, as the rations begin to dwindle, and some people have begun debating whether making the trip to civilisation is worth it, a letter arrives. It's delivered by a bright blue helicopter, and the letter itself is dropped from the cockpit, inside of a metal box.

It read:

For the people of Stardew Valley, Accept Joja once more into your lives, and you will find your struggles perish. We will send another messenger in a weeks time to hear your response, and we wish that you make the right decision.

Morris

Most of the townspeople were adamant that they held out, Pierre especially. They all met in the Community Centre to discuss options. Pierre and Robin were quite vocal about their opinions of Joja, and tried to reason with everyone that their lives were still better without them. Others however, saw no other option. Jodi and Kent had Vincent to think about, and Lewis saw that the town may fall into disrepair. They talked late into the evening, but no decision was made.

At midnight, after a successful 17 hour fishing trip, the Farmer traipses in, backpack full to the brim with fresh fish. They were on the way home, but got distracted by the sound of voices in the community centre and sought to investigate. They hadn't even noticed that the road had been blocked, as they hadn't actually walked through the town in months, thanks to the teleportation obelisks they had installed.

"Why don't... I just supply the town with everything you need?" They said simply. Everyone looked at them with a bit of confusion. "Look, I got all this shit lyin around doing nothing, and I haven't actually used my farm for any agriculture in awhile, but I could convert my ancient fruit masses into planting room for anything you need. I got plenty of livestock, as does Marnie, and I've got enough construction material lying around to make a city. I could probably have us set with everything we need for... say, the next 20 years?"

And so it happened. When a deliveryman turned up on the empty road, they chose to deny a response to Morris, who promptly kept the roads closed. And life moved on. It was harder from then on out, without any outside support, but they persevered. Instead of having the town raze itself to the ground, as Morris intended, they thrived. With no connection to the outside world, the town became closer, with more festivals and community events. Who needs an economy if everyone's working together in a closed community? Everyone is welcome to contribute on the farm now, and a surplus of food is created, including all the artisan goods that are better than just meat and vegetables.

A solar farm for the town was created to keep the lights on, but most other devices were eventually discarded (Elliot chose to only use candles for dramatic effect). Willy's boat occasionally made trips to other towns along the coast for essential items they couldn't produce themselves, but with the looming threat of the Gotoro Empire invading, and the notion that Joja is always watching, trips became more infrequent.

Morris thought he had won. He assumed all the people of Pelican Town had either fled on foot, or kept their pride and stayed in the husk of the town as scavengers. He never bothered to check on the thriving community, safe from the dangers of the Gotoro Empire and corporate greed.

Joja is always watching, but perhaps not close enough.

UH HOLY SHIT IF YOU READ ALL THAT MY BAD I THINK I WENT A LITTLE OVERBOAD. WELP THANKS FOR READIN MY CRACKPOST

[joels-golf-club]

Exhaustion

A/n: So this turned out way more angsty than I originally planned it to be but whatever. I also kinda hate it but I just wanted to write a little bit to get back into the swing of things.

All my work is 18+ MDI

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Lowkey angsty but fluff at the end, kinda established relationship, reader doesn't know how to cope, miscommunication, implied traumatic past, mention of nightmares, post outbreak! Joel, no use of Y/n, swearing, self harm in the form of sleep deprivation if that's a thing. Please don't read if any of this is triggering to you.

When you were out on the road it was easy to avoid your nightmares. You would barely sleep in between watches with Joel, and when you did it was a light enough sleep that you wouldn't ever dream.

But in Jackson it was different. It took a few months to get adjusted to the new way of life, the somewhat normal life in the commune. Once you, Ellie and Joel had gotten used to the new town you had quickly fallen into a routine. Ellie would go to school while you and Joel took patrols with each other before coming back home to share a bed. For a while you would still sleep light enough that your dreams, or rather nightmares couldn't reach you in Joel's strong embrace, but eventually you got comfortable and your past crawled it's way into your subconscious.

On more than one occasion you had jolted awake in a panic not knowing where you were while Joel was forced to calm you down. It was these moments that filled you with guilt and shame. Joel had been through just as much, if not more than you had and he didn't need you ruining what little sleep he got just because you couldn't handle something that you had escaped from over a year ago. It was then that you decided to push through and suck it up. If Joel could handle a little trauma, then so could you.

So as the days went on you forced yourself to sleep as little as possible. Sure it made you a little jumpier on patrol but so far Joel hadn't noticed and you hoped he would just chalk the bags under your eyes up to long patrols nights and 'waking up' earlier than usual. You had made it almost a month sleeping just enough to keep you functioning, which meant about an hour or two a night, before Joel decided to corner you during patrol.

"So you gonna tell me what's going on with you?" He spoke one day while you were hiking up to a abandoned hunting cabin that had been shaped into a patrol outpost you two occasionally spent a weekend on patrol at.

His words caused you to momentarily freeze up during which he sent a glance over his shoulder at you, eyeing your reaction. "What do you mean?" The words left your mouth carefully with no emotion as you tried to focus on anything other than your pounding headache and the way Joel kept glancing back at you. Just another mile and then you would avoid Joel at the cabin. You've held off this conversation for a month, you could do it for another 30 minutes.

Joel, however, seem to think otherwise. He scoffed at your response and stopped walking, causing you to pause for a moment before walking past him towards the cabin. Just a little more...

"Don't bullshit me, darlin'. You're shaking and sweating right now just walking when you can usually do this hike without breaking a sweat. You're pale and you've had bags under your eyes for the past month. So tell me what the fuck is going on and why you won't talk to me."

Shit.

He noticed. Those weeks you had gone laying in bed awake while we slept at your back and you tried to play it off hadn't gone unseen like you had hoped. Now he was mad at you and you were just causing him more stress, the opposite of what you hoped your efforts would do. "It's nothing Joel. Just drop it, alright?" you kept walking and ignored the ever growing headache pulsing behind your eyes as the exhaustion caught up to you after not getting a wink of sleep the past three days and then hiking with this conversation thrown at you. Joel called out your name angrily and stormed up to you forcing you to stop walking and face him. The cabin was only a quarter mile up now.

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!"

"Yeah, and I'm trying to avoid it!" You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth because they only confirmed that something was wrong.

"And why's that, huh? What aren't you telling me?" His expression changed then and he dropped his gaze down to his hands for a moment. "Did I do something wrong? Is that why you won't talk to me?" His fears broke through you just a bit and you could feel your throat tighten up against the tears building up. When you spoke your voice came out thick and brittle.

"Jesus, Joel, no it isn't you. Shit. You didn't do anything wrong, it's just me, okay? It's just something I have to handle." Joel met your eyes again then and stared into your glazed over gaze. He only nodded then and started walking again. Thank fucking God, he was dropping it.

It wasn't until you thought Joel was fast asleep that your exhaustion truly hit you. You knew that if you slept now you would be out hard and it would be impossible to avoid the memories of unwanted grasps against your skin and cries of pain as you were struck would reach you. So instead of laying in bed with Joel where you knew you would be out in seconds if you stayed any longer you slowly climbed off the dusty bed and downstairs to sit by the fire place where a few glowing coals remained from your earlier tense dinner.

You sat there for what could've been hours or minutes just rubbing your temples with shaking hands, trying to physically force away your pounding migraine. You hadn't even noticed Joel appearing in the doorway until his voice caused you to all but jump out of your skin.

"This is you handling it then?" His voice was raspy with still and you couldn't help but be jealous at the precious hours he had to sleep in peace. "Jesus christ darlin, when's the last time you slept?"

His words immediately brought tears to your eyes and the walls you had spent weeks building high came crashing down. You crumbled as the first sob tore through your body, your entire being shook and you brought your hands up to cover your face as shame and pain ripped into you.

Joel was upon you in seconds and wrapped you up in his strong embrace as he slowly rocked you back and forth, trying to calm you down. "Breath, darlin', just breath. Listen to me okay? In...and out," when you only continued to shake and sob in his arms he lifted one hand to your face and used the other the grab your own hand and place it against his chest, forcing you to feel his deep breaths. "Come on you gotta work with me here. You feel my breaths? Yeah, you do, just match my breathing, I know you can do it. In, and out. Yeah, just like that, good job." When your breathing had finally evened out and all that remained was a few sniffles you began to speak.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to, uh, I didn't mean to wake you up. You can go back to bed." Joel just grabbed the back of your head and pressed you into his chest while shaking his head.

"Don't do that. Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. I just need to know what happened so I can help you, alright?"

You shook your head and mumbed against him, "I don't wanna tell you." When you looked at his face he had a deep frown and concern etched across his features.

"Why not, darlin'. You know I'm here to help you, that's how this thing works." He gently pulled you away from his chest and made you look at his face while he spoke.

"I don't want you to think I'm weak..." You avoided eye contact when you saw his face crumble and realization flood his gaze. He had finally figured it out.

"It's your nightmares isn't it?" You just barely nodded and continued staring at the ground you sat on. "You've been forcing yourself to stay awake? Sweetheart, you can't do that, it'll get you killed out here if you aren't able to function properly. Why didn't you just come to me?" His words were spoken quietly but still firm in your ear.

"I didn't want to be a burden. You've been through so much as well and you don't wake up screaming every night. You're so strong. I didn't want to make you see how weak I am, so I figured if I just didn't sleep then they wouldn't be able to hurt me again." You shook your head in disbelief at yourself and scratched at your arms anxiously. "God I spent so long getting out of there and trying to heal and I'm still just the dumb little slave. Nothing's changed." Joel grabbed your arms and forced your scratching to stop and looked you in the eye with anger behind his eyes.

"Hey. Don't say that shit. What you went through is unspeakable and it doesn't make you weak to be affected by it." You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off before you could get any words out. "No, I'm talking right now. You are so incredibly strong, darlin'. You've been through so much and you still manage to push forward and live. So don't you dare call yourself weak because that is absolute bullshit and we've promised not to lie to each other. How about we go upstairs and get you some sleep, and if you have a nightmare you wake me up, I don't care how often or what time it is and you tell me what you need me to do, okay?"

You nodded your head and leaned forward to press a soft, barely there kiss to his lips that he immediately reciprocated. "Thank you. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me for anything, darlin. This is what I'm here for. Please don't ever feel like you can't tell me stuff like this, alright." You just nodded again and allowed him to help you back upstairs into bed where you fell asleep in his strong embrace within seconds of your head hitting the pillow.

[rayan12sworld]

💙🧡Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down

By:KizuKatana

Summary:

Wei Wuxian would like to think that - if he had known that Lan Wangji would walk out of his life immediately after they hooked up- he wouldn’t have given into his ridiculous attraction for the man. He wished he were better at lying to himself.

Guest-starring Lan Wangji’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters

Chapter:10/10

Words:63,215

Status:completed

“I don’t work with major sects. Especially not the Lan.”

~~

He had to see Wei Ying, to make sure he was okay. He hadn’t been allowed to see Wei Ying six years ago, and the man had nearly died. Would have died if Wen Qing hadn't randomly happened to be interviewing at Gusu hospital that same day. It was unacceptable that a sheer coincidence was the only reason Wei Ying was still alive. The company Lan Wangji’s family owned had put Wei Ying at risk, then abandoned him. Someone in his family’s company had made the decision to fire Wei Ying without notice, which violated company policy. Someone in his family’s company had further made the decision to pull medical support over a policy that was clearly not meant to be used in this way. Lan Wangji was going to find this ‘ someone .’ And when he did… Lan Wangji cut himself off at the shocking violent images that flickered through his normally peaceful mind. There was precedent for such punishments. Though much of his ancestor’s history had been burned, enough survived to make it clear that Lan discipline had always been harsh. In the modern context, he knew such measures would be viewed as archaic… even barbaric. But cultivators were given leeway by the authorities and society at large to handle their own business. Lan Wangji felt a primal sort of anger and thirst for vengeance that - for the first time in his life - made him fiercely glad that there would be no boundaries to stay his hand if he found the one responsible for Wei Ying’s treatment.

~~

“You never told me that you and Hanguang-Jun had been romantically involved.” Wei Wuxian choked on his in-drawn breath, which sent him into a coughing fit that lasted almost a minute. “What?!” He wheezed, when he could finally form words again. “Why would you think… it was only… we weren’t romantically involved. Fuck, who says shit like that?” Wen Qing eyed him skeptically. “If you’re trying to play this off cool, you are failing spectacularly. Though that’s nothing new.”

~~

Lan Xichen shot him a sideways glance, and continued to scroll. “Wangji…,” Lan Xichen said after several more pages of scrolling. “Did you have time to do anything other than follow Wei Wuxian around and document his actions?” Lan Wangji felt his ears heat as report after report with his signature flashed across the screen. He had, perhaps, not realized that there were so many reports he had written about Wei Ying. “I was the Compliance officer,” Lan Wangji replied tersely. “Mn,” Lan Xichen said, an unforgivable smirk appearing on his face. “You wrote him up for wearing too few layers on a night hunt after being covered in Yao viscera and changing into civilian attire?” Lan Wangji clenched his jaw. Wei Ying had been wearing only shorts and a tee-shirt. It had been a professional trip. It had been… distracting. “You know that most people don’t flirt by giving citations of minor rule violations to the person they are interested in, right?” Lan Xichen persisted, openly laughing at him, even if it was only with his eyes. “ Ge ,” Lan Wangji said repressively, which only served to amuse Lan Xichen more.

~~

He also really wanted to run his sword through Su She, metaphorically. And also literally. His hand flexed around the cool, smooth hilt of Bichen. He trusted his brother, but Lan Xichen was kind. Su She did not deserve kindness. “Please trust me, Wangji,” Lan Xichen pleaded, as if reading his brother’s thoughts. “Su She must face discipline. According to the sect rules, not civilian laws,” Lan Wangji stated. He would not bend on this.

[gardenschedule]

Paul trying and sometimes failing to be chill about Yoko

“I told John on the phone the other day that at the beginning of last year I was annoyed with him. I was jealous because of Yoko, and afraid about the break-up of a great musical partnership.”

1970, Paul to Ray Connolly in the Evening Standard

I’d been able to accept Yoko in the studio, sitting on a blanket in front of my amp. I’d worked hard to come to terms with that. But then when we broke up and everyone was now flailing around, John turned nasty. I don’t really understand why. Maybe because we grew up in Liverpool, where it was always good to get in the first punch of a fight.

The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present

"It just became impossible for me to work with Yoko sitting there watching us," says Paul. "I wanted to write simple things like 'I love you girl' and every time I knew she was listening I felt I had to come out with someone clever and avant garde! "I'm not blaming Yoko -- I'm blaming me. It was no more John's fault for falling in love with Yoko than it was mine for falling in love with Linda. It just meant that we didn't work together anymore. We tried but it didn't work."

Paul McCartney, in his first magazine interview since the split, tells FLIP's Keith Altham... "THE BEATLES ARE FINISHED!"

We didn’t accept Yoko totally, but like I say, how many groups do you know, these days [who would]? I mean, it’s a joke. It’s like Spinal Tap! I mean, it’s Spinal Tap! A joke!

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

And in John’s thing, you know, when as – you obviously know – he was going through a lot of pain when he said a lot of that stuff. And he felt that we were, um, being kind of vindictive towards him and Yoko. In actual fact I just answered a question on an American TV thing – I think we were quite good, looking back on it, and knowing people in life. Many people would’ve just downed tools with a situation like that and just have said: “Look man, she’s not sitting on our amps while we’re making a film.” I mean, that wouldn’t be unheard of. I mean, Sean Penn... do you know what I mean? Most people would just say, “We’re not having this person here. Don’t care how much you love her.”

But we were actually quite supportive. Not supportive enough, you know; it would have been nice to have been really supportive because then we could look back and say, “Weren’t we really terrific?” But looking back on it, I think we were okay. We were never really that mean to them. But I think a lot of the time John suspected meanness where it wasn’t really there.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

I’ve already mentioned how in September 1969 we were in a meeting and talking about future plans, and John said, ‘Well, I’m not doing it. I’m leaving. Bye.’ In the ensuing moments, he was giggling and saying how this felt really thrilling, like telling someone you’re going to divorce them and then laughing. At the time, obviously, that was wildly hurtful. Talk about a knockout blow. You’re lying on the canvas, and he’s giggling and telling you how good it feels to have just knocked you out. It took a while, but I suppose I eventually got with the programme. This was my best mate from my youth, the collaborator with whom I’d done some of the best work of the twentieth century (he said, modestly). If he fell in love with this woman, what did that have to do with me? Not only did I have to let him do it, but I had to admire him for doing it. That was the position I eventually reached. There was nothing else I could do but be cool with it.

Paul McCartney, on “Get Back”. In The Lyrics (2021).

MANSFIELD: But, you know, [after John showed me the pictures of himself and Yoko nude for the album cover of Two Virgins], I asked Paul about this. And this, to me, is indicative of their relationship, maybe as much as anything I [had] ever heard. I said, “Paul, you know, what do you think about this?” And Paul says, “I don’t know.” He said, “I don’t really agree with John. But I just am going to figure that John’s ahead of me on this, and that someday I’ll understand and I’ll catch up. So, you know, I’m okay.” ROSEN: And what did that reaction tell you about their relationship? MANSFIELD: That it was an extremely deep relationship.

Ken Mansfield (record label executive and Apple Records U.S. manager), interview w/ James Rosen for Fox News. (December 4th-5th, 2007)

John and Yoko had to visit Sir Joseph Lockwood of EMI with the nude photos to ensure that he would allow their use and there wouldn’t be any censorship problems. Although he personally didn’t like the album or photographs, Paul accompanied the two of them to their meeting. Sir Joseph thought that the fans would be outraged and the Beatles’ reputation would be damaged, but Yoko told him: ‘It’s art.’ Lockwood said: ‘Well, I should find some better bodies to put on the cover than your two. They’re not very attractive. Paul McCartney would look better naked than you.”

The Paul McCartney Encyclopedia by Bill Harry. (also... rekt lmao)

So that – I think, in order to kind of say to Yoko, “Look, my life is now yours,” he had to say things like, “The Beatles were bastards, we were total jerks, we never wrote anything good…” Which I think was rubbish, basically. And as I say, you have to realize that some of that time he was on heroin – so he’s not going to be just talking absolutely lucidly all the time, there. Some of the times, he was having other sorts of problems…

1989, Paul

And I think we would all have continued the Beatles, but Yoko came along, John fell wildly in love with her, he needed a big, big change in his life and he got it! He came to live in New York, he kind of threw over all his English [pause] contacts and everything. And, you know, can’t blame him! If that’s what he wants to do in his life! So we had to kind of, fade into the background to allow them to have their relationship. What were we gonna do, ringin’ him up? ‘Hey John, you know, hey, come and see me! Leave Yoko!’ No, that obviously never gonna happen. [pause] See, you had to let him do what he wanted, and he- he did you know… And he enjoyed it.

Paul McCartney on John’s early 70′s attacks as a sign of his feelings towards him. Interviewed by Bob Costa, 1991.

“. . . I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away. And I understood that. I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, “Who’s this?” You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and… But you know I mean in this case I just sort of said, right – I mean, I didn’t say anything, but I could see that was the way it was going to go, and that Yoko would be very sort of powerful for him. So um, we all had to get out the way.”

Paul McCartney, interview with German tv program Exclusiv, April 1985.

PAUL: ‘Cause she’s very much to do with it from John’s angle, that’s the thing, you know. And I – the thing is that I – there’s— Again, like, there’s always only two answers. One is to fight it, and fight her, and try and get The Beatles back to four people without Yoko, and sort of ask her to sit down at the board meetings. Or else, the other thing is to just realize that she’s there, you know. And he’s not gonna sort of – split with her, just for our sakes.

Twickenham, January 13th, 1969

PAUL: Yeah, see, that’s the thing. The only one time we’ve actually done it, she’s agreed. She really is alright. It’s like, it’s the thought of her being there when some of— [faltering] And then you don’t talk to John, so then he doesn’t talk to you, you know. And it’s like, you can screw it up just as much because she’s there, as – as John’s relying on her because she’s there. So that’s the thing. You know, but I mean, like, you’ll notice, if John – if you’re onto a beam with John about something, then he really isn’t, you know, he really won’t let Yoko talk about it. Because he knows when you’re on a beam, and he knows about it, and you’ll – you can talk straighter to him.

Twickenham, January 13th, 1969

‘All new wives don’t like their husband’s old friends or cronies,’ he replies. ‘I don’t think [Yoko] liked Paul. I think Paul was ready to like Yoko. Maybe she saw Paul as a threat. It was a partnership. The partnership should have been John and Yoko, not John and Paul. I am not saying it was a deliberate process, but it was a natural process. John had a new partner: she. Yoko Ono. It was going to be John and Yoko’s songs and not Paul and John’s songs.’

Don Short (newsman), c/o Sandra Shevey, The Other Side of Lennon.(1990)

As the meeting was drawing to a weary close, John, not this day with Yoko, who hadn’t seemed particularly connected with what was going on, said he wanted to play us a tape he and Yoko had made. He got up and put the cassette into the tape machine and stood beside it as we listened. The soft murmuring voices did not at first signal their purpose. It was a man and a woman but hard to hear, the microphone having been at a distance. I wondered if the lack of clarity was the point. Were we even meant to understand what was going on, was it a kind of artwork where we would not be able to put the voices into a context, and was context important? I felt perhaps this was something John and Yoko were examining. But then, after a few minutes, it became clear. John and Yoko were making love, with endearments, giggles, heavy breathing, both real and satirical, and the occasional more direct sounds of pleasure reaching for climax, all recorded by the faraway microphone. But there was something innocent about it too, as though they were engaged in a sweet serious game. John clicked the off button and turned again to look toward the table, his eyebrows quizzical above his round glasses, seemingly genuinely curious about what reaction his little tape would elicit. However often they’d shared small rooms in Hamburg, whatever they knew of each other’s love and sex lives, this tape seemed to have stopped the other three cold. Perhaps it touched a reserve of residual Northern reticence. After a palpable silence, Paul said, “Well, that’s an interesting one.” The others muttered something and the meeting was over. It occured to me as I was walking down the stairs that what we’d heard could have been an expression of 1960s freedom and openness but was it more likely that it was as if a gauntlet had been thrown down? “You need to understand that this is where she and I are now. I don’t want to hold your hand anymore.”

Michael Lindsay-Hogg (filmmaker), Luck and Circumstance: A Coming of Age in Hollywood, New York, and Points Beyond. (2011)

“Paul, in his usual way, tried to be the nice guy and was open-minded about John’s weird choice,” says Brown. “He invited them to stay at [his house in] Cavendish Avenue for a while.” The day after Cynthia’s return, they moved into the second-floor guest bedroom and made themselves at home. “But the problem was that Yoko wasn’t a very warm person—not even able to say thank you in response to anything Paul did for them. And he went miles out of his way to make them feel welcome, being a nice guy. So that didn’t last very long.”

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

Examples of failure to be chill:

PAUL: But it’s just funny to sort of realise that after this is all over, you’ll be off in a black bag somewhere – on the Albert Hall, you know. JOHN: Yes. PAUL: And sort of doing shows and stuff, and you know, digging— JOHN: Yeah, but I— PAUL: —digging that thing of it.

January 25th, 1969 (Apple Studios, London)

Yoko had evidently approached Paul McCartney about appearing in the film, as the Beatles' road manager Mal Evans penned in his diary: "PAUL HAS APPOINTMENT WITH JAPANESE LADY WHO WANTS TO PHOTOGRAPH HIS BOTTOM." Presumably Paul declined, and one must wonder if the same invitation might have been extended to John.

Chip Madinger, Lennonology Volume 1: Strange Days Indeed. (2015) (note: unforgivable rudeness on Paul's part to both Yoko and all of us who would have benefited from him featuring in "Bottoms")

“I was in India meditating about the album, when it suddenly hit me. I wrote Yoko telling her that I planned to have her in the nude on the cover. She was quite surprised, but nowhere near as much as George and Paul. “Paul gave me long lectures about it, and said ‘Is there really any need for this? ‘It took me five months to persuade them.

NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS, JUNE 7, 1969

He wasn’t happy. But the big things that were driving him mad were beyond me. He kept on working and writing, but when John came over, all he could talk about was how much he loved Yoko. That disturbed Paul. In spite of John’s obvious happiness, Paul stifled his jealousy with not-very-cute bursts of racist crap.

Francie Schwartz - Body Count

John & Yoko's perspective:

It’s the same. You can quote Paul, it’s probably in the papers, he said it many times at first he hated Yoko and then he got to like her. But, it’s too late for me. I’m for Yoko. Why should she take that kind of shit from those people? They were writing about her looking miserable in the Let It Be film, but you sit through 60 sessions with the most bigheaded, up-tight people on earth and see what its fuckin’ like and be insulted — just because you love someone — and George, shit, insulted her right to her face in the Apple office at the beginning, just being ‘straight-forward,’ you know that game of ‘I’m going to be up front,’ because this is what we’ve heard and Dylan and a few people said she’d got a lousy name in New York, and you give off bad vibes. That’s what George said to her! And we both sat through it. I didn’t hit him, I don’t know why.

I was always hoping that they would come around. I couldn’t believe it, and they all sat there with their wives, like a fucking jury and judged us and the only thing I did was write that piece (Rolling Stone, April 16th, 1970) about “some of our beast friends” in my usual way — because I was never honest enough, I always had to write in that gobbly-gook — and that’s what they did to us.

Ringo was all right, so was Maureen, but the other two really gave it to us. I’ll never forgive them, I don’t care what fuckin’ shit about Hare Krishna and God and Paul with his “Well, I’ve changed me mind.” I can’t forgive ’em for that, really. Although I can’t help still loving them either.

John Lennon: The Rolling Stone Interview, Part One

JOHN: But I understand how they felt, because if it had been Paul or George and Ringo that had fallen in love with somebody and gotten totally involved, suddenly… It wasn’t like, you know, somebody – George coming in and saying, “I’m going to work with Eric Clapton in a band now, and screw you.” It wasn’t that kind of thing at all. It was just suddenly this involvement.

December 6th, 1980: Andy Peebles talks to John and Yoko

“Lennon stated that “there’s some underlying thing about Yoko in [Get Back]”, saying that McCartney looked at Yoko Ono in the studio every time he sang “Get back to where you once belonged””

David Sheff, All We are Saying: The Last Major Interview with John Lennon and Yoko Ono

TRYNKA: ‘The Ballad of John And Yoko’, with Paul playing drums and bass, seemed like Paul’s tribute to you. Was that the case? YOKO: Yeah. I thought that was beautiful. Paul was trying to be diplomatic about the situation, try to make it well... He meant well. There were other instances where he’d do things that were meant well.

Yoko Ono, interview w/ Paul Trynka for MOJO. (May, 2003)

YOKO: Even now, I just read that Paul said, “I understand that he wants to be with her, but why does he have to be with her all the time?” JOHN: Yoko, do you still have to carry that cross? That was years ago. YOKO: No, no, no. He said it recently. I mean, what happened with John is that I sort of went to bed with this guy that I liked and suddenly the next morning I see these three guys standing there with resentful eyes. SHEFF: Do you think that kind of attitude from people was also jealousy? JOHN: It’s a kind of jealousy. People can’t stand people being in love. They absolutely can’t stand it. They want to pull you down in the hole they’re in.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

‘He wanted me to be part of the group,’ Yoko says. ‘He created the group, so he thought the others should accept that. I didn’t particularly want to be part of them… I couldn’t see how I would fit in, but John was certain I would. He kept saying, ‘They’re very sensitive … Paul is into Stockhausen… They can do your thing…’ He thought the other Beatles would go for it; he was trying to persuade me.’”

Philip Norman’s 2008 biography Lennon

After the initial embarrassment, that how Paul is being very nice to me, he’s nice and a very, str- on the level, straight, sense, like wherever there’s something like happening at the Apple, he explains to me, as if I should know. And also whenever there’s something like they need a light man, or something like that he asks me if I know of anybody, things like that. And like I can see that he’s just now suddenly changing his attitude, like his being, he’s treating me with respect, not because it’s me, but because I belong to John. I hope that’s what it is because that would be nice. And I feel like he’s my younger brother or something like that. I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat, because there’s something definitely very strong with me, John, and Paul.

Revolution Chaos Tape – Yoko Ono, June 4, 1968

"The line [the walrus was Paul] was put in partly because I was feeling guilty because I was with Yoko and I was leaving Paul. It's a very perverse way of saying to Paul: 'here, have this crumb, this illusion, this stroke - because I'm leaving.'" -John

Playboy, 1980

JOHN: And throwing in the line “the Walrus was Paul” just to confuse everybody a bit more. And because I felt slightly guilty because I’d got Yoko, and he’d got nothing, and I was gonna quit. [laughs; bleak] And so I thought ‘Walrus’ has now become [in] meaning, “I am the one.” It didn’t mean that in the song, originally. It just meant I’m the – it could have been I’m the – “I’m The Fox Terrier,” you know. I mean, it’s just a bit of poetry.

August, 1980: John talks to Playboy writer David Sheff about ‘Glass Onion’.

“Still, the real reason that people disliked Yoko was because she ordered them about and sent them on errands in a particularly rude way; she was brought up with servants, and that’s how she treated the staff of Apple. George found it particularly galling that she never gave the Beatles their definite article. He told me, ‘She would say, “Beatles do this” and “Beatles do that”, and we would say, “Uh, it’s the Beatles actually, love.” She’d look at you and say, “Beatles do this.”’ And he laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Whether Yoko was ever aware of the disruption her presence caused to the Beatles’ working practices I don’t know. Some people thought she was so involved in her own work and self-interest that she didn’t notice; others thought that it was a deliberate ploy to separate John off from the others.”

Barry Miles, The Zapple Diaries. (2015)

[myfandomprompts]

Dubious Headlines | Aemond Short Story (Part 1/3)

Aemond x Reader Modern!AU Masterlist

Synopsis: In a world where Dragon Incorporation is the most powerful firm in town, Rhaenyra Targaryen's last announcement sends you, a journalist, to interview the younger sons of the family. However, you did not ask for any of this.

Viserys Targaryen was sick, and had for many years bequeathed all of his shares in the care of his children. But everybody knew that the Targaryen was a drama family, and that strife was ever present between the different siblings. Lately, the eldest, Rhaenyra, had made an announcement in which she said to intend her branch of the company to take a whole other direction, putting the other branches managed by her brothers and sister in a difficult position.

“Y/N, where are Mathilda and Sam?”

You raised your head from your computer to look at your boss, M. Vander.

“Uh… I don’t know, I have not seen them all morning. Covering the charity event maybe?”

The man looked around desperately, thinking. “Ok then," he decided, eyes darting at you. “In my office please.”

You looked bewildered. You swore that if you he gave more work because Sam and Mathilda had run off again…

“I need you to go to Dragon Incorporation and interview Aegon Tagaryen,” he announced as he sat behind his desk.

You internally cursed. As if you did not have enough work already. “What? Why me? I cover cultural events, I am not…”

“You did hear about Rhaenyra’s announcement right?” he interrupted you.

“Yes, but since when are we interested in gossip, sir?”

“It’s not gossip. It’s gathering impressions on the changes that might have an influence on the citizens of the city. I’m sorry but you are the only one available that is competent enough Y/N.”

Please, anything but this.

“I- I don’t think this is a good idea sir, Mathilda is the one who usually interviews them I-”

“Y/N, I know you will manage perfectly. Take care of this please.”

You deeply inhaled as he dismissed you, nodding and got out of the office.

The reason why you dreaded the interview, except for the fact that it was absolutely not your area of expertise, is that Aegon Targaryen, second son and head of the communication department at Dragon Company, had such a reputation that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. As a journalist, you were usually one of the firsts to learn what was new in town, and Aegon was definitely in the top 5 of the most scandalous things you had seen. Besides the accusations, the trials, the complaints and the police reports that most of the other agencies tried to hide from the public, he was also clearly a man that just did not care about his actions. He liked doing interviews, though, you had seen a draft of Mathilda’s interview with him once. You could not emphasise enough how much she had to remove in order for it to be decent to be published.

You had called your friend on your way to one of the many locations of Dragon Inc., taking your sweet time.

“I am so gonna kill them. They owe me big on this one, being absent today of all days. I hate them.”

“So you managed to get an appointment with him? With Aegon?”

“Uh…. No, I didn’t, not really. I kinda hope that I would just show up and that he would be absent. This way I won’t have to do it at all!” you sighed as you climbed the stairs that led to the offices floor.

“Y/N…Vander will be mad if he realises that you delayed this on purpose.”

“Trust me, if I am not the one who does the interview, he will have no trouble sending someone else, and be a hundred percent more satisfied with them, a clear win for both of us the way I see it.”

You were on the third floor, near the CEO’s office. As you walked through the corridor, you did not see the man who had just exited the elevator, almost bumping into you. He watched you warily as you continued talking loudly over the phone, not bothered at all if you were heard. Who was that woman?

“You are not that bad at interviews… Just go in there, ask the questions and get out, easy.”

“No it’s not! I’m used to report on cultural events, not… whatever this is! Gods I really don’t want to do this, Mathilda told me awful things about him...”

The man was walking behind you at a safe distance, now amused at your ranting. From what he gathered, you were a reporter. Were you here for his brother?

“Yeah, I read the papers too… Are you there yet?”

You were now before the door on which the shining plate of “Aegon Targaryen, Communication Director” was displayed.

You sighed. “Yeah… I’m standing at the door,” you breathed out, looking at your feet, defeated. “Maybe I could just… invent an interview.” Behind you, the man silently laughed at your unprofessionalism, comfortably leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you talk to the door. He was enjoying this far too much.

“You are stalling again… It will be alright. Hang up, and call me when you’re finished.”

“I guess you’re right, I should just, rip the band aid off. Ok… Talk to you soon.”

You hanged up, nervously fidgeting with your phone and puffed. You were staring at the door, gathering the courage to knock. As seconds passed without you moving a muscle, your silent observer then decided to have a little fun. “Can I help you?”

You jumped, startled at the sudden voice so close to you. Arms crossed over his chest, a man was staring at you, the ghost of what you thought to be a smile on his lips. How long has he been there?!

“Oh god you scared me!” you gasped, clutching your hand over your chest. Then you realised how odd your behaviour must have been. “I’m so sorry I was just… umh.”

He arched a brow, waiting for your response. You cleared your throat nervously.

“I came to see Aegon, Aegon Targaryen. I’m Y/N L/N, journalist at The Westerosi.” you smiled awkwardly before extending your hand to him. He looked at you for a moment before taking your hand.

“Aemond Targaryen,” he said as you shook hands.

Of course. You had recognised him at once, a beautiful lilac eye on one side and another piercing prosthetic blue eye on the other, a chiselled jaw line, silver-haired, and so very tall. There stood Aemond Targaryen, the most mysterious of the Targaryen’s siblings. You knew him to be quite intimidating from the pictures you have seen of him, but you did not expect the effect of seeing him in the flesh would have on your body as you let go of his hand. His whole demeanour screamed power and poise. You tried to control the feeling that crept up from your neck to your stomach. You cleared your throat, his intense gaze on you. You nervously fidgeted with your phone again.

“So is he…” you pointed to the door, “Is he in there?” you asked, your voice unsure.

“Yes.”

Aemond simply crossed his arms again, watching you look at the door like if it was an insurmountable obstacle. You were clearly not a fan of his brother.

“Would you like me to knock for you perhaps?” he asked.

“No no! Thank you, I perfectly know how to knock!” you tried to joke as he raised his brow higher. “I just, uhm…”

But then an idea came to your mind. Aemond was the most secretive of his family, never giving interviews, never appearing at social events as much as the others, and he was just there. You didn’t really know if he was as vile as his brother seemed to be, but you knew that if you brought back an exclusive interview of Aemond Targaryen, your boss would be delighted, and might even overlook the fact that you had been… unable to talk to Aegon. You had to take your chance. You turned around to face him.

“Actually, do you have a moment? I am gathering information on the recent changes that occurred in your company. Would you mind answering a few questions…?”

That is an interesting turn of events.

He seemed to pounder the proposition for a moment, and you were certain that he would throw you off, that you had overstepped.

“Very well,” he stated, his face letting nothing appear as you widened your eyes in disbelief. “What do you drink?”

You were so taken aback that you forgot to speak properly.

“Dr-d-” you stammered, “What do I drink?” you repeated.

“Yes. Coffee? Tea? I can have you brought anything you want.”

This man was unsettling. You had to put yourself together. “Uh... no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Mh.”

His eye was scanning you, and you couldn’t help but fidget on the spot, clearing your throat as you felt naked under his gaze.

“We will be more comfortable in my office. This way.”

Without a glance back at the door you had almost walked in, you followed him to another corridor, and inside a luxurious office. He sat behind his desk, tapped something on his phone and invited you to sit. You did as ordered, thanking him and taking out your pad containing the questions meant for Aegon.

You tried not to be disturbed by the unfaltering stare the second Targaryen son was giving you as you asked question after question. You had quickly rephrased some of them to be more suited for him instead of Aegon, and you thought that it was playing out quite nicely for an unintended interview.

He listened to you attentively, answering each of your questions as concisely as possible, and you could not be anything but impressed by how eloquent he was. You considered it a shame that his family did not use him more in public.

At one point, a beautiful woman that you gathered to be his assistant, entered the room, carrying a hot cup of coffee in hand. Her presence made you stop as she lowered herself to put the cup down next to Aemond, her low cleavage making you regret the fact that you had not taken off your blazer. He thanked her and as she left, her eyes looked at you from head to toe with a sufficient smile before walking her heels to the door and closing it, but not before giving the brightest smile you have ever seen to Aemond. You guessed that being this handsome and rich might have that effect.

He seemed unfazed though as he took a sip of his coffee nonchalantly. You could not help but stare at his throat as he drank the hot liquid, his Adam’s apple slightly pulsating at the movement. You were forced to clear your throat again, snapping out of your trance as he put down the cup.

“So, how would you describe your sister, Rhaenyra, in simple words? How do you see her as a member of your family and as an eminent member of your firm?”

He let your question hang in the air for quite some time, before biting the inside of his cheek and sitting back on his chair. He clearly did not like this one.

“Next question,” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t like that question, so next please.”

You dropped down the pen that was ready to write to look at him with surprise. “You do realise that this interview is about the subdivision of the company, started by your sister.”

“Half-sister. And I understand perfectly. Please continue.”

You hold his gaze for a moment, unsure.

Very well then. “Have you ever considered, as head of the financial branch, to invest in other areas than the one you are currently involved with? Have you ever thought of sponsoring events or… celebrities for instance?”

As he answered your question, relieved that he did not seem crossed by the previous one in any way, you could not help but notice the way he licked his lips as he took another sip of coffee, his tongue slightly peaking out. At this moment, you had completely lost track of what he was saying, and by the time he had finished talking, you internally congratulated yourself for recording the interview on your phone. How very professional of you.

It seemed that your temporary distraction had you more disturbed than you thought as you saw the next question originally written for Aegon on your pad: How does the fact that you work in the same company as your wife influence you r decisions?

This was obviously not a question suited for the man sitting across from you, so you took a moment to try and adapt it to him, but it seemed that you were incapable of coherent thoughts right now.

“Are you involved with anyone?”

The question had left your lips faster than your brain could think. Not that you apparently owned a brain right now by the look of it. You cursed yourself. Big mistake.

You could see how the question had caught him off guard as you blushed and fiddled with your pad, apologising profusely at once.

“I’m so sorry, don’t mind the last one, it was meant for your brother…!” you stammered before realising that it sounded worse. You quickly found the next question, your body heating up.“Where do you see the company in ten years time?”

He had taken a bit more time to answer this one, watching how flustered you were and how your cheeks had reddened, making your skin so appealing to him that he could have sworn that he felt its warmth from this distance. Your nerves were all over the place, but it calmed down as the interview came to an end, taking control of your body again. You thanked him and stood up to shake his hand, promising him to keep him updated.

“Thank you very much for your time, M. Targaryen. I will take your secretary number and notify you when the article will be published.”

He left his place from behind his desk in order to accompany you to the door as you retrieved your coat, bringing with him the sweet scent of sandalwood and coffee. You had to get out of here.

“I look forward to reading it. When you see my brother, please tell him I said to behave.”

Oh. Aegon. It had completely escaped your mind. You undoubtedly felt like you had no obligation at all to go see him now, having obtained the interview of his quite private brother… But you could not tell him that. Instead you just nodded, hoping that he would not accompany you to his brother’s office.

“I will. Although I don’t think I will need anything more from him. I feel like I have everything I need,” you said, tapping on your pad.

“That is a relief. This way you won’t have to… invent an interview. I’m sure your skill lies elsewhere.”

You blushed at this, realising that Aemond had heard a good part of your conversation on the phone. You did not move as he stared at you quite pleased at your reaction.

“I would never… I mean, it was only a joke,” you tried. “I take my job very seriously. It’s just that I am more used to deal with people from other backgrounds.”

“Mh,” he nodded, reaching for the doorknob behind you. You exhaled in relief, the prospect of freedom one move away, but he paused again and did not open the door right away.

“By the way, the answer is no.”

You turned your head to him, almost bumping into his chest. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I am not involved with anyone at the moment.”

You tried to recall when in your life you had been as short of breath as you were now, stuck between the door and the man whose gaze made you feel like the weakest thing on earth. You tried to reply but nothing came, and as you bit your lips in anxiousness you tried not to notice how his eye had quickly lowered to the movement.

He only smirked and opened the door, stepping aside to allow you space. You swallowed as you quickly passed him, hands clutching at your coat in tension.

“Have a good day Miss L/N.”

And then he closed the door, leaving you to face the pretty assistant studying you from behind her desk, clearly annoyed at you, for whatever reason. You rapidly took the contact you needed from her and exited the building, welcoming the fresh air and grabbing your phone, calling your boss right away. Your lungs were on fire.

“Is it done?”

“Well, not exactly. I managed to have much better.” You were overselling it, but it was a miss or hit situation.

“What did you do Y/N?”

“I had obtained a meeting with the one and only Aemond Targaryen! He answered all of the questions on the subdivision, and even managed to get the intel you could not have if it had been with Aegon. This is good for us! You know he rarely gives any interviews.”

You were met with silence.

“Y/N…”

“Listen, I promise you to do the best article I have ever written on Dragon Inc. You will not be disappointed, I swear. Give me a chance Vander.”

“Y/N, how do you think Aegon Targaryen will react if he learns that he had not been consulted first?”

“Do we… really care about that, sir?” you asked, slightly appalled as you considered it.

“He is the main correspondent with our newspaper. Mathilda has always gone to him when we needed insight on Dragon Inc!”

You swallowed. This would not stop you, you had to make it work.

“All due respect sir, if you wanted that kind of interview, you should have sent her, not me. I managed to have an exclusive one and I believe in what I have gathered. You should too.”

Your boss went silent again, and as you saw this as a good sign, that we would be considering it at least, you continued.

“I will send you a draft tonight, and I’ll prove to you that this paper is worth publishing. I can assure you that Aemond’s Targaryen’s insight will raise the reader's interest much more than Aegon’s.”

Some more seconds of silence.

“Very well. I don’t like this, but I trust you Y/N, you have rarely disappointed me. I expect it before tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Then you quickly texted your friend, summarising your encounter with the one-eyed Targaryen before you jumped in a taxi and went home, reading over your notes.

Yep. Aemond Targaryen would not leave your mind any time soon.

Your boss had been happy with the draft, and now you were at your desk, writing the actual article. You had taken your time in scolding Mathilda and Sam, blaming them for forcing you to take on a task you knew would not have you so riled up, but your friends had only sympathised with you, and you had not been able to stay mad at them for long.

By noon the article was finished, and you had to wait for tomorrow’s paper for it to be published. You had managed to progress on your other projects in the meantime, but now it was dark outside and you were the only one left in the office. Again.

The piece of paper next to your keyboard with Aemond Targaryen’s contact information, was now becoming more and more difficult to ignore as you were soon to go home. All day you had glanced at it, hesitating between sending your completed interview to him now or waiting for him to discover it with everyone else in the morning.

Taking a deep breath, you finally took the piece of paper, typed the e-mail address and attached your article to it before thinking of something personal to write.

Nothing came as you simply wrote the most formal of e-mails, giving him the time of publication and thanking him again. As you pressed send, you sat back into your chair and stared at the screen as your mind began to imagine him receiving your e-mail, how his brows would knit together while his eye would dart over the lines you had written.

Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for losing yourself in such thoughts before shutting your computer down. You needed sleep.

Aemond Targaryen had looked your name up as soon as you had departed from his office, curious to know more about the woman who had forsaken his brother and dared ask an interview of him, Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

He stared at the screen with interest as he browsed The Westerosi ’s archives online, seeing the several articles you had written over the years, mostly about city events or local cultural activities, smiling each time he read your comments about this or that particular representation. Now he was having dinner with his family, listening to his mother’s complaints about his eldest sister again, when he felt his phone vibrate. He could not ignore the satisfaction he felt when your name appeared on the screen next to an e-mail, and wasted no time reading what you had sent him. You had done a good job, he liked that you remained factual in your writing, and he could not help the disappointment he felt when he saw the few lines you had written to thank him in your message. As he put down his phone again, he remembered how you never seemed to miss anything that happened in the city. He counted on that.

-0- Part 2

A/N: Any resemblance to a particular book/movie was unintended, I realised it afterwards. (Oops)

[afewfantasies]

🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter V

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Misc references & details

Summary:  Through the promptings of others Lorena and Gale are both forced to confront their personal feelings for each other, while acknowledging the potential for romance & their future.

Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc)

Warnings:  None

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love

Word Count: 2K

PART V - Major

Gale had never witnessed a winter prep like this before. Lorena had a strange way of making everything feel like a party with all her personality and ideas to make the mundane fun. There were wood splitting competitions among the boys and stacking competitions. There was no quarrelling as Lorena and Rose were in charge of the harvest and for the first time they were ahead of the schedule in September. A freak frost would have very few consequences on their way of life. Lorena’s sister's visit seemed to do wonders for her well being and in the weeks since her departure there’d already been two letters. Gale kept Felicia’s words close to his chest. He found himself admiring Lorena more and more. Admitting the way her eye’s light when she smiles, the cadence of her laugh, her sense of humour and glamorous nature. He found himself indulging her stories and whims more too. If Felicia thought there was a possibility of happiness between them, then Gale thought there could be a possibility that Lorena could see him the same way all the others did.

“What are you moping about Gale, us soldiers not moving efficiently enough for the Major?” Lorena asks, coming in with a basket of apples to be sliced and hung to dry. Gale smiles at her teasing.

“Wasn’t moping, I just resent there’s nothing to complain about. It’s not good for my reputation” Gale admits. Lorena lights up before laughing a touch. Gale had been opening up to her, it was a wonderful thing. Absolutely wonderful that he was finding his way out of his shell, and beginning to trust her like she trusted him.

“I’ll make a mess of something, you can be sure of it so keep some complaints in your reserves Major” Lorena mocks. He’d inherited the nickname not as a form of respect but admonishment. His small margin for error and serious precision had garnered him the nickname from Lorena. She didn’t understand what surviving a Montana winter was like, what preparation was required to ensure comfort and survival but Gale did. He’d survived the prison camps with next to nothing in terms of food and clothing, and would never endure anything like it again.

“I don’t think you understand how the chain of command works,” Gale says, taking far more than he should. His heart had never let him be too harsh with Lorena. From the moment she appeared in the lodge he had a soft spot for her and that would never change.

“I’m just being a pest, I don’t need a court martial for insubordination” Lorena winks filling the sink with water, it only proves her knowledge of the chain of command. She’d learned a thing or two about the military structure during the 101st’s reunion a few months ago.

“Food is important, it’s always better to have too much of it stored just in case we get snowed in, or the trains get snowed out and provisions stop making their way here. Or we have a long winter” Gale explains.

“When’s the last time anyone can really get in or out?” Lorena asks.

“Depends on the year but after November you’re stuck until around March” Gale explains truthfully. Hesitation washes over Lorena as she does a quick calculation. It would be five months away from her family, five months without consistent communication with them. She’d been silently weighing her options since Felicia’s departure. The heartache of her ex had settled into a bearable wound. As much as she wanted to see them she didn’t want to be forced to remain in a town that felt too muddled by a complicated past and a would be increasingly frustrating present. Lorena didn’t know if she could ever truly be okay with the sight of the man she once loved more than anything happy with someone else. It was the defining reason she had yet to return home, and somehow that bit of self preservation felt cheap. Especially around the likes of Rose and Gale who faced insurmountable challenges head on. A war hero who survived with his sanity intact, and a window making her own way in the wilderness.

The sound of the water stops and Lorena looks up to see Gale has stopped the sink from overflowing. The playfulness is gone from his expression and has been replaced by concern. In a perfect world Lorena could have it all. Her family, friends and home, along with Gale, Rose and the others. Allowing her a moment to herself Gale places the apples into the water where they bob to the surface.

“What is it?” He asks finally.

“My parents miss me a lot, this will be my first Christmas away from them” Lorena confesses.

Her words are just that and Gale can’t help but wonder if there wasn’t another reason for her hesitation. The indication that she missed her ex, that he was one of the reasons she wanted to return. Felicia had been right about his feelings for Lorena, perhaps the older sister was also correct about her sister’s inevitable willingness to take the scoundrel who betrayed her back.

“You can get back home in the spring, it’ll be safer to travel to and from. Felicia can come back with you” he offers now that a world without her under his roof has become inconceivable to him. Lorena scoffs knowing full well that it wouldn’t just be Felicia, it would be her brother and mother as well. Reaching into the basin Lorena begins scrubbing the skin of the apples in preparation for their preservation. Gale stands by her side instead of returning to his task of unloading the hay with the others. His eyes wash over her as stands carrying more than she should emotionally. To Gale there were too many positive qualities to the woman that she should have no insecurities. Feeling the weight of his gaze, Lorena meets him. Something about his blue eyes always seemed to ground her, settle her restlessness and put her at ease. It had been so since the very first time she saw him.

“Gale, we need you - there’s another delivery to be signed for” one of the guys yells from outside.

Gale, we need you. Lorena smiles at the truth of the statement.

“I’m coming!” he shouts, turning back to the door before looking back at Lorena. So it would be a fight after all.

“Whenever you decide to leave I’ll make the trip with you, and if you don’t want to go back your family is welcome here” Gale says with the same commitment to his people that he’d had in the war. It brings a genuine smile to Lorena’s face. The thought of Gale waking through her hometown where he’d stick out like a black swan.

“Maybe you could spend a winter with me sometime and enjoy all the perks of city living.” She suggests making him smile. As long as Lorena saw her future intertwined with his, Gale could be at ease.

“Definitely, I’ll probably be in late. Have dinner with Rose”  He says far more comfortable with stepping out now. Even if it was only a few feet away Lorena’s melancholy weighed him down more than anything else. Lorena’s smile had made it into his dreams and into his heart. It was the only way he wanted to see her now.

…

Rose and Lorena sit on the porch swing watching the boys finish up loading the last few bales of hay for the day. Rose had prepared a hearty dinner that would surely put them to sleep after providing them with adequate nourishment.

“You’re good for him,” the older woman says.

“Huh?” Lorena questions.

“You’re good for him,”  Rose repeats, looking directly at Gale. “He was so angry last year - this entire experience was a nightmare. He hasn’t been angry in months and now he’s finally starting to settle” she says.

“Benefit of time” Lorena says.

“Not just time Lorena, you” Rose says.

“Well, I’m glad I can help,” Lorena responds, making Rose smile.

“Life’s too short to deny yourself the good because of those who’ve mistreated you. We’re all on borrowed time, don’t squander it. You’re young and beautiful and deserve to be loved.”

“Rose? Are you feverish, have you been smoking wild herbs?” Lorena asks, appalled by the older woman's frankness.

“I see the way he looks at you, I’m around. Gale doesn’t make a decision without considering your opinion of comfort. He’s too good a man for most and you’re too good a woman for most. Aside from the obvious facts there’s chemistry there that can’t be denied. Just think about the kind of love he’s capable of Lorena. If he’s been kind, generous and fair with you when you were a stranger.” Rose says hitting Lorena with sobering truths. Looking away from the boys Lorena turns to face Rose who nods with all knowing eyes.

“Gale’s a good man, his heart is set on that gorgeous starlet fiancé that ran away” Lorena sighs knowing intimately.

“He deserves far better than a woman that left him, the man he is and ignored what he was going through.” Rose says and it’s a point Lorena can agree on. “And so do you. I can’t imagine the amount of stupid on that ex-husband of yours. A lady like you being overlooked after staying and being loyal even to this day. Darling you’ve done enough for him. It’s time for you to live for you.” Rose suggests.

Looking at Rose it’s clear as day she’s full of wisdom, she’d always had an omniscient quality to her. Lorena’s silence is only further confirmation of the complicated web of feelings between Gale and herself. Reggie had courted her differently; with large declarations and ostentatious presentations of his affections. Reggie was loud in his love and it was all Lorena had come to know. Gale loved his corners, the quiet and operating in the peripheries if his expertise and leadership were not required.

“So you think I should do what my Ma says and remarry?” Lorena asks, looking into wise eyes.

“I think every woman deserves a taste of the best life has to offer them. You haven’t had it yet and you owe yourself that experience. Someone who cares so much they start digging out an extra cellar in August to prepare enough provisions so that the live-in princess is comfortable” Rose winks before heading into her home.

Lorena sits at a loss for words. Gale stands across the field leading the men in the loading of the barn. Lorena had thought him handsome from day one but she hadn’t thought she was even a contender for his affections, her head hadn’t been in that space when she first arrived. She was nursing her wounds. There was no longing for passion. Only longing for the heartache to cease. And it had. When and where Lorena didn’t know. She could place it. Sometime during the summer after many good days and full weeks. Among the smiles and laughter she’d found peace and Gale had been there every step of the way. Every breakfast, every supper, every night. Every morning he waited to hear movement before getting his day started, and every night he walked across the hall to look in on her before going to bed himself. There’d never been any room or reason for her to think it was something more than otherworldly courtesy. But perhaps with Gale love was the little things, the subtleties, the small kindnesses that add up over time, the careful consideration that makes life easier. The quiet consistency and loyalty that makes you feel a little invincible.

Authors Note: Thanks for reading 💖 I've been in the worst funk lately but the social media algorithm gods have been force feeding so much Austin that my creativity was "re-sparked". Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know how you feel in the comments and re-blogs. The next part is coming and its 🍵 😉

[adnauseum11]

Operational Risk Management (John Price x Reader)

Kate calls with some bad news.

1k words

CW: swearing, military inaccuracies

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, master list also pinned to my blog.

Masterlist

Ao3

John’s phone lights up in the center console with an incoming call just as you are returning to the flat. Two hefty shopping bags of new glitter-less decorations are safely secured in the back seat. His patience ran out about half-way back from your excursion, locked in a snarl of holiday traffic. When he began to grumble about the lack of common sense on display, you reminded him that he wanted to tag along with you. The look he gave you afterwards was dark, but you didn’t let it faze you, used as you are to his intermittent grumpiness. Still, you’re happy to claim your spoils and clear off so he can take his phone call in peace, his annoyance doing nothing to dampen your spirit. 

“Hello?” 

John’s tone is curt. The familiar sound of chopper blades swells and then he can hear Kate over the staticky line, immediately picturing her cupping her hand over the bottom of the phone as she clears the rotors. 

“John? Got some news, you aren’t going to like it. Can you talk?” 

She’s moving, likely just landed. John’s brain is leaping ahead, trying to fill in the gaps. 

“Yeah. What happened? Gaz alright?”

Kate cuts straight to the chase, apparently no time to waste on pleasantries. 

“The commander Gaz is working under is a younger brother to man killed in Las Almas - belonged to Shadow Company. He’s leveraged his position with Norris to start knocking on doors to find out what happened to his brother and he’s managed to get enough intel to hold the 141 responsible.”

“Jesus Christ Laswell.”

John’s palm comes down with a slap on the steering wheel, his mood worsening. He can feel his blood pressure rising as Kate’s terse voice washes over him.

“I suspect Norris is feeding him information. We’re going to keep working on that end, see if we can confirm anything. When you turned down the contract and that photo popped up, he tried a different path. The commander did basic training with your girl’s would-be-assailant years ago, before the dishonourable discharge. We think he’s currently switching tack again. Gaz is obviously compromised, and they’re about to ship out.”

“Ah hell Kate.” 

John’s violently pushing his fingers through his hair, the implications of Gaz being in the thick of this commander’s operation making his stomach turn to lead. 

“I didn’t know John, didn’t think Norris’ men needed further vetting. Lesson learned. I’ve got a potential intercept point. Right now, we’re handling some rendezvous communications for them as we’ve got friendlies in the field, Gaz being one. They’re going to be sent to recon a chemical manufacture plant in Lithuania for a potential raid.”

Kate’s tone suggests she’s well aware of her fuck up, and John respects her enough to leave it there, satisfied with her acknowledgement.

“There’s got to be a vulnerability we can exploit to get Gaz to safety.”

John’s instinct is to plan, even without any intel yet.

“Ghost is planning an avenue of approach for the potential intercept point before whatever the commander is up to comes to fruition out there. We urgently could use an extra set of hands in the know, Captain. Timing is critical here. Gaz’s assigned taskforce won’t be expecting us. If we do this correctly, we can bury this for good with no one the wiser.”

John looks up at the flat, can almost picture you flitting around, rearranging items to account for your new prizes. His heart sinks as he makes the only decision his conscience will allow. 

“Yeah, my bag is mostly packed. I can be at the base in a few hours for pick up if you can arrange liaison.”

Kate asks the question he’s been dreading since this conversation started. He can guess at the outcome and is in no hurry to be proven right. 

“Your girl going to be ok with the last-minute change of holiday plans?”

At the mention of you, John’s brain immediately pulls the image of you naked in the shower, flushed from the orgasm he’d just given you, admitting you’re in love. The center of his chest aches at the thought of leaving you alone during the holiday you’re so obviously excited to share with him. At one point, early on, he was confident that he knew exactly what he was doing. His emotions lately tended to be out of control and headlong, almost impossible to moderate. After years of relentlessly telling himself it was better to keep his distance, to stay platonic, he’s finally getting what he’s coveted after all this time. And still, he can’t stop his greedy heart from wanting more. He fights back the uncharacteristic swell of emotion and clears his throat, refocusing on the conversation at hand.

“I’ll handle it. Not leaving anything this volatile for someone else to clean up. I want assurance it’s over.” 

“If you’re sure. You’ve been moving fast with this woman John. I’m assuming you know what you’re doing here.”

His laugh is dark, the sound of a man whose best laid plans are unravelling in front of his eyes. 

“Gaz would do the same. I’ll sort it out on my end, set up the liaison for 19:00.”

John is all business, putting any indecision firmly to rest in short order.

“We appreciate the assist; I’ll debrief you further once you’re on route. And John?”

“Yeah?” 

He’s preoccupied, already trying to work out how to explain what’s about to happen to the woman he loves.

“Good luck, hope you bought her something nice.”

Kate’s tone is a mix of gentle teasing and honest concern. John’s foul mood refuses to rise to the occasion.

“Piss off Laswell.”

John grates out before hanging up the call and sighing deeply, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He shouts a handful of curses into the empty car, grateful for a mostly vacant street to witness his outburst. He takes several deep breaths to gather himself again before stepping out of the car to rejoin you in the flat and break the news.

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @writeforfandoms @syoddeye @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch

[throneofsapphics]

Hi I love you I hope you’re okay

Will you please write how reader is struggling with an ED and manorian or rowaelin figure it out and help her?

Thank you and mwah

keeping the demons away 

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: Rowan and Aelin figure out how to help you. 

Warnings: eating disorder, rowan having no tact, toxic parent, not proofread  

A/N: thank you for the request! I hope you’re doing okay <3

It wasn’t exactly that she didn't want to eat. In fact, she wished that she could - that she could hit that level of normalcy and ease everyone else seemed. But, everytime she went to pick up her fork, her mothers voice would echo in her mind; you can’t have that, that’s not good for you, if you eat that you’ll die young, and the image of her snatching the fork and plate away from her- dumping half of it in the trash, played in her mind. 

She would pick up a fork, forcing the food to her mouth and hiding her grimace. A few bites later and you’d be done. It came and went in waves, sometimes you’d be able to eat regularly for a few months before it would “come back” as she called it. Each time she thought you’d finally beat it - that you’d finally conquered the demon resting on her shoulder - it showed her that it was more resilient than you’d hoped.  

But - she was so good at hiding it after all of these years. Good enough nobody had noticed. Or she thought. 

“You haven’t been finishing your food. Recently.” Rowan commented one night.

“Not hungry.” she answered automatically - the excuse she gave when anyone commented on it, and normally worked. But, Rowan woke up that day ready for a fight. 

“You haven’t been hungry for a month?” Aelin shot him a glare, but he ignored her. 

“I eat.” She countered through gritted teeth. 

“Less than half of your food.” 

“Rowan.” Aelin warned. 

“I’m fine.” She aggressively stabbed a potato, raising it to her mouth with an indignant look on her face. 

“Now eat the rest of it.” 

Her knuckles went white around the fork, pink starting to spread across her cheeks as she felt the tips of her ears burn. Then, Rowan and Aelin were caught in a staring contest, communicating in that strange way of theirs. She took the chance to shove her chair back, rising to flee the room like a coward. Without looking at her, Rowan’s hand closed around her bicep, tugging her back down to her seat. 

“Did you think we’re stupid enough not to notice?” He finally turned to her. Aelin winced. 

“I’ve never said you’re stupid.” She commented dryly, trying to force some amusement into her voice. This conversation is the last one she wants to be having today. Or any day. In fact, it’s the thing of her nightmares. 

“Every couple of months, you switch back and forth. You’ll eat normally, and then barely touch your food.” 

“That’s none of your business.” She finally snapped at him, shaking off his grip. 

“If something’s wrong with you, I’d say it is.” 

“Nothing is wrong with me,” her voice rose. 

“He didn’t mean it that way,” Aelin said quickly. 

“Then what way did he mean it?” She ignored Rowan completely, speaking to Aelin instead. 

“We want to help,” she said gently, “we care about you.” 

“I’ve been trying to fix this for years. What makes you think you could?” She could tell that, but she was past the point of anger, past the point of reason and talking quietly or nicely. This thing that happens to her pisses her off beyond reason, and coupled with Rowan’s complete lack of tack or subtlety, it sends her over the edge. 

“So you admit there is something wrong.” 

“Rowan. Shut. Up.” Aelin said through gritted teeth. A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he did. “Just, tell us why. Please.” 

She’d never been able to deny her anything, especially if she said ‘please,’ so the whole story came tumbling out. The things her mother used to say and do, how it’s like a small demon on her shoulder, how the memories replay her mind and as much as she try she can’t get them out of her head.” 

“Your mother’s an idiot.” 

“Excuse me?”

He sighed, and pointed to some of the food on her plate. “That won’t make you die young. It’s fine to eat any of this, your body needs it.” 

“I know that. It’s not that simple.” Aelin pursed her lips, looking at Rowan. To him, it probably seemed that simple. Hungry? Eat. Like everything could be fixed with a few words. “It’s been like this for years, it won’t change overnight.” 

“Then we’ll help you.” Aelin decided. She looked at her, wanting to shrug off her help and insist she could do it on her own, but once Aelin set her mind to something there was no stopping her so she resigned herself to two fussy fae watching over she for gods-know how long. 

-

“I’m hungry.” Aelin announced, midway between lunch and dinner, and reached out a hand to you. “Come eat with me.” A small smile curved on her face. She carefully marked her place in her novel before taking her hand, letting her drag her to one of the smaller hearth rooms. Cozy, warm, and non-imposing. Not a dining or sitting room, not a designated place for eating, just somewhere … comfortable, was the best way she could describe it. She disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a tray loaded with all of the snacks either she or Rowan had noticed her eating. 

The thoughtfulness of it brought a smile to her face. 

Then, she brought out the competitive side of her - saying she wouldn’t be able to catch a grape or a piece of chinese, or other things in her mouth. Before she knew it, she was full - and laughing, picking up the poor pieces of grapes that didn’t quite make it to her mouth. 

“We could leave them for the cats.” Aelin murmured, pointing to one of them. 

“Do cats even like cheese?” 

“Bait for the mice.” She shrugged. 

“There’s no mice in the castle.” She protested. Not that you’d seen, and she hoped there weren’t any.  There were good and bad weeks, but the bad ones became less frequent - and they seemed to notice it before you, sometimes. Like they’d picked up on the signs of it. She knew when they had, because they’d get extra fussy - Rowan staring at her until she finished her plate, or Aelin dragging her into Orynth to try some new food from one of the vendors. But, she didn’t complain. Their tactics kept that little demon at bay, and her mothers voice out of her head.

[cheemscakecat]

So Spy and Scout in Prison…

So Scout’s arms were broken because he tried to help Soldier. [Bad idea, Solly broke his arms].

It takes 6 weeks to heal broken arms, give or take. We don’t know if the drugged food and lead poisoned water in Teufort made it take longer.

Even these random lead poisoned cops are like; “None of us are built to attack this Spy, let’s just lock them in.” How do you know that just from looking at the guy?

I feel like Joey Murders would have tried to kill Scout when his arms were still broken, and Spy stayed up and kept watch to prevent it. Lil bro probably assumed their cellmate wouldn’t want to cause more trouble for himself, but he is a civilian serial killer. Probably preys on the weak.

Maybe one of the reasons why Spy was in such a bad mood is because Murders had been trying to kill his son for 5 months, and Scout still didn’t pick up on it. And when he starts accusing Spy of getting them in more trouble for killing that clown, it hits a nerve.

They’d served community service in Teufort and been labeled heroes, so suddenly getting imprisoned on death row would give them some whiplash. I think the reason Spy kept telling Jeremy that his court case wasn’t going to work was not for a lack of faith in his son. It was him trying to stop Scout from convincing himself that they were going to get out of this and getting let down.

They didn’t know about the lead poisoning or false charges, but I bet Soy could tell that something was wrong with the people of Teufort. They weren’t going to get an “innocent until proven guilty” trial, and even if Jeremy did everything perfectly it wouldn’t sway those freaks away from their public hanging.

But Scout isn’t ready to die, and he wouldn’t accept that fate no matter how small the chances were to get out. He’s assuming that Spy doesn’t care about being hung and is refusing to do anything to help them escape. Which is why he’s mad.

The truth is, Spy was planning to stab their captors in the trial, but they were on camera in the prison cell and he couldn’t just reveal the plan to Scout. I don’t think he’s expecting both of them to get away, either; the goal is probably to cause enough carnage for Scout to wise up and escape before the guards figure out what to do.

I still think he would have taken out multiple people though. Something we forget about Spy is that his suit is specially tailored to hide his upper body strength.

[Not mine, found this online]

Scout put his stats into speed, which is why his thighs are bigger. Spy put his stats into upper body strength. This is the Tf2 universe, so I would not be surprised if he could stab through bone. So yeah, even with a really little stabbing knife, he’d kill somebody.

Two more things.

Scout was probably just so happy to have the casts off and use his arms again that he posed for his mugshot like that.

Poor Jeremy. He isn’t ready to die for real. And not in front of these crappy Tuefortians.

What makes it worse is that they dropped him first, and Pauling had to book it to stop the hanging. That had to be traumatic.

Don’t just leave him like that! I know she needed to stop the mayor, but golly. Soldier came in clutch though, untying him.

They weren’t even on trial for their actual crimes, which makes that 5 months in prison with drugged food, bunking with a serial killer a massive human rights violation. So was the show trial and hanging, and if Pauling and the others didn’t get there in time, they would’ve died for nothing.

So yeah, new Scout trauma just dropped.