#I’m not sorry for the emotion damage

[kelbies-fandom-locker]

Anyone for an emotional edit

[national-hockey-gay]

Making an Edit for Every Team in the NHL: The Boston Bruins (10/32)

original text

[soloavengers]

Syl & Winnie’s last night -

This should be a fanfic but I want it out of my head asap without making it a WIP that might rot and grow too long so have some fresh short unedited pain written at 6am.

A full Seafloor Shrine got a tavern somehow, was not easy to do when suppliers can’t do their thing, but the bartenders put all their existing products together and reached a deal. A temporary thing such as they hoped the life in the shrine would be. Many people rejoiced the semblance of the addition brought.

Fearfully procrastinating the last beam once he was done helping around, Syl was happy to accept Lamond’a invitation for a drink. They both changed out of their armor - unfortunately he got into a little fight before Lamond could arrive.

Winnie thought something like this might happen. Syl had been on edge since their reunion, if he wasn’t faking a smile he was wide eyed and tense, weary and off his game during fights. She doubted he slept whenever she managed to. He considered her new armor and weapon before his own. Winnie worried about him as much as he worried for the sake of the world, but unlike Syl, concern made her fight her hardest. Secretly she was mad at herself for knowing better how to fight than how to console him these days, secretly she felt heartbroken that he never spoke, for in their journey it became easy for him to speak his feelings to her.

Winnie felt like she was waiting for a dam to break, so she was ready when it finally began to. Dragging him away quietly as he continued shouting insults, she wasn’t sure what it was about, some Battahli man might have uttered something about her under his breath. She could guess what it was he said, she so hated that this was the final straw.

She kept walking, into the ruins up some stairs, at some point Syl pushed her away and began walking at a bit of a distance. Something petulant in his attitude still, she cannot help her fondness battling her concern.

“Lamond’s probably wondering-“

“We’ll go back there, and you’ll maybe apologize to that man, then have a good time.”

He wrapped his around his chest and glared, “I’m not apologizing. Pawns shouldn’t be talked about that way after all your help.”

Winnie shrugged, “I care not what they say. we don’t fight for praise, I do it for you.”

He stopped, glanced at the loyal pawn. Her face showed not a single touch of doubt in those words. Syl looked at the beam which pierced the red cloudy skies and then down at the water damaged stone.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Not to me at least.”

“Yes I do. And I’m sorry,” his voice shook, Winnie’s own heart trembled and she stepped to stand next to him. “I’m sorry you have to be with me.”

She blinked, frowning as she looked at him. Tears were soon streaming down his cheeks and — while this was a moment she had been expecting— it was not like this. Not with that nonsensical apology.

“What?” Winnie asked with harsh confusion.

As soon as her hand touched his shoulder he folded down, crouched on the ground with head buried in his arms. She knelt beside him.

“Master…”

“I don’t know what I’ve done!”

“Nothing,” She said softly, suddenly it felt as if it was the first time she’d seen a human distraught. Her heart was in her throat and she didn’t want to hear anymore from him. Dreading the sobs to come, but accepting whatever tears may fall on her shoulder.

Syl shook his head, his reddened eyes looking at her. he sniffled. “No, it must’ve been something. Nothing so cruel should be without reason.”

Spoken so softly, so mournfully, somehow only she could’ve understood his words.

“I’m sorry.” As Winnie wrapped her arms around him, his wept on her cloak.

“Stop saying that.”

He said nothing as he cried, she felt pleased with herself for having brought him somewhere with no one to see him like this. It wasn’t that she thought it shameful, but she knew what it would make some feel. Would seeing the Arisen like this make anyone’s heart ache as much as hers did?

“I wished this an illusion. Some sick humor,” he sniffled. “What is left to do now? What will be of our world — why did you have to be here?”

“I-“ She always knew what to say, what to do. Winnie prided herself in knowing humans well, in understanding him most of all. But at that moment she felt so painfully clueless as her own tears fell on him.

“What will become of you? Why did you have to be dragged down with me?” It felt no longer like sad ramblings, she needed to say something. Even if it wouldn’t ease his pain.

“You wanted me.”

His cries against Winnie shook her, a fist clinched her cloak, she rubbed a hand up and down his other arm.

“I don’t want you anymore,” the words shook with sobs, so he repeated them over and over til the crying won out, and all he could do was wail his misery away in her arms.

Winnie understood what he meant, she understood it perfectly and thought he might try and wish that upon a thousand stars and yet nothing will make it true. He’d never mean it, so nothing can take her away from him. Nothing can take him away from her. Not even the end of the word, so long as she lives, not a single thing could dare. No matter the curve their journey took, memories and their bond could make her brave anything, Winnie wished he could find strength in that as well. Ever he was lead by good intentions, she had enough hope for the both of them.

She told him as much, she softly spoke until he calmed.

[a-sky-full-of-ideas]

Buggy having body issues that usually lead to spiralling into an existential crisis.

Cause where does “Buggy” begin? Where does he end? In how many pieces can you cut him until he cannot be considered himself anymore? How tiny do the pieces have to be? Does the part of him matter ? What would count more: his eyes or his ears ? If only his hand remains … would he still be “alive”? Does Shanks have these thoughts, now having lost an arm? Would he understand? Would he still talk to him ? Like that?

[spooky-activity]

I was crying to @robinpixels again about their shadow Ren au

My take on his boss fight is that it should have 3 stages, because what self respecting JRPG would have any less than 3 stages to a boss fight:

Fake Persona fight, because that’s how he knows how to fight. No spells, just grabby throwy smoosh

Half transformed, lonmg harpy boy. Throws up cursed energy like owl pellets at you

Uh oh! It’s bad!! Highly mobile! And he switches affinities by using the 12 major arcana cards that float over his butt!

[michi-chelle]

this scene hits different right after rei’s route 🥲

[a-nice-egg-offering]

Listening to nothing was the same by hotel books and sobbing over macden tbh need to see Dennis completely break down when Mac is finally happy with someone else I want that man to cry

[nastytransmasc]

Pulled out my favorite pair of boots for the first time in a while and found scratches on them. Literally said “WHENNNNN???? BABY NOOOO!!!!” 😭😭😭😭

[smol-stardust]

just wanted to say that your writing is so poet and i have been re-reading delphi chapter so many times

*grabs you by the hands and cries a little* thank you for thinking that about my baby, and the slightly depressing vibes her story gives.

๐·°(⋟﹏⋞)°·๐ Thank you

[raedas]

RAEDA

[2383-lines-of-code]

made on a combination of picsart and procreate at 2 am, I would’ve just drawn it myself, but I have a grand total of zero artistic skill

[napiersmirk]

Just finished reading the new chapter. The first part had me all 🥰🫰🏻”Mr. J you’re amazing!!”

And then he had to ruin everything!!! I genuinely HATE that man so much.

[hotgirlmanifesto]

almost time to earn next years bad karma

[carly404talks]

Me when I compromised to do animations for a school video project of English class but I haven’t even started and I have until Sunday…

[baelarys]

𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣

Aemond targaryen x Reader wife Velaryon

Word count: 1779

Warning: Fluff

Pt2 pt3 pt4

"Mommy! Vaera has my dress," little Vaerys complained, clinging to your skirt with the determination of someone seeking justice in her small, childish world.

"That's not true," Vaera retorted, her tone indignant, her voice reflecting the restlessness she also showed in her constant fidgeting as you tried to braid her hair.

"Vaera, stay still," you ordered her softly but firmly, your skilled hands deftly moving through her golden locks. Despite her agitation, your skill did not waver, and soon an impeccable braid began to form.

"Sweetheart, what you're wearing is very pretty too," you tried to negotiate with the little platinum-haired girl who was still clutching your dress.

"But I want it to be pink," insisted Vaerys, her lower lip trembling in a pout you knew all too well.

You sighed, knowing there would be no peace until the little one's wishes were fulfilled. "Alright," you relented, gesturing to one of your ladies-in-waiting. She hurried to tend to the twins, swapping their dresses with the efficiency born of routine. Meanwhile, your hands briefly rested on your swollen belly, caressing it with deep, protective love.

The sound of the doors opening behind you interrupted the moment, and you turned just in time to see Aerion, your only son, standing in the doorway. "Mommy," he called softly, almost hesitantly.

A gasp escaped your lips at the sight of your son. Your hands flew to your mouth, trying to contain the shock. The beautiful platinum and golden hair that used to fall in soft waves to Aerion's shoulders had disappeared, crudely cut. His face was smeared with smoke and dirt, as if he had been in the midst of a battle.

“Aerion, for the love of the gods, what happened?” you exclaimed, crossing the distance between you in an instant. You took your son by the shoulders, examining his face with concern as you searched for answers in his eyes.

One of the knights who had escorted Aerion to the room remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the shame was a weight he could not bear.

“What happened?” you insisted, your voice firm, seeking answers in the knight’s face.

The knight cleared his throat before responding, his voice full of a mixture of respect and concern. “Prince Aerion decided to escape from his training and ventured into the pit where Vhagar and Silverwing rest. We managed to pull him out of there before the dragon’s fire consumed him, but his hair caught fire in the process, and the maester decided to cut it to prevent further damage.”

He finished speaking with his gaze once again fixed on the ground, as if each word added more weight to his shoulders.

Before you could respond, Aerion quickly intervened, noticing the displeasure forming on your face. “But the maester said it will grow back!” he exclaimed with the desperation of a child seeking absolution, his large, anxious eyes searching yours.

You gestured for the guard to leave, and he obeyed with a bow before exiting the room. Then, you pressed your lips together, trying to stay calm as a storm of fear and anger swirled within you. The danger Aerion had exposed himself to was no small matter; the fact that he had emerged practically unscathed was a miracle. However, his recklessness could not be ignored or overlooked.

You took Aerion’s face in your hands, gently wiping the dirt from his cheeks, your gaze firm and worried. “Aerion,” you began, trying not to let your voice tremble with emotion, “we’ve talked about this before. Dragons are not pets. You cannot approach them as if they were dogs.”

“But I just wanted to see them,” your son responded in a whisper, his eyes fixed on the ground. Guilt weighed in his voice, and yet there was still a trace of his childish stubbornness. “I’m sorry, really,” he added, stepping forward and wrapping his small arms around your waist, seeking comfort and perhaps a way to avoid the punishment he feared.

You sighed, feeling the warmth of his embrace, but not letting it distract you from what needed to be said. “I know, my love, and I believe you. But you must understand that you cannot do this again. Dragons are powerful and dangerous creatures. I don’t want to lose you to a mistake.” With tenderness, you tilted your head and placed a gentle kiss on his head.

With the same softness, you pulled away slightly from him. “Now, go clean yourself up,” you ordered in a tone that left little room for objections.

One of your ladies-in-waiting approached and took Aerion’s hand with the usual deference, guiding him to the bath to prepare him for cleaning. As you watched them leave, you let out a slight groan of pain as you felt the baby in your womb give small kicks, reminding you of their presence with an energy that could not be ignored.

The door opened again, and as you looked up, you saw your husband, Aemond, who gave you a warm smile upon seeing you. There was a familiarity and affection in his gaze that always managed to calm your spirit. Carefully, he placed his sword on the table before approaching you, his presence filling the room with a tranquility only he could offer.

“Daddy!” Vaerys exclaimed with excitement, breaking the brief moment of silence. Without hesitation, the little girl jumped into her father’s arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck with the absolute confidence of a child who knows they will always be received with love.

Aemond lifted her effortlessly, holding her against his chest as his face softened even more. “And how is my little warrior today?” he asked playfully, as Vaerys laughed, delighted by her father’s attention.

Meanwhile, Vaera, who had remained silent, looked at her sister with bright eyes, waiting her turn to be hugged. With a gesture that showed Aemond’s natural skill in handling the dynamics between his children, he extended his other arm to draw Vaera to his side as well.

“Look at my dress,” Vaerys exclaimed, raising her arms to proudly show off her pink dress, waiting for her father's approval.

Aemond, always attentive to the details that mattered to his daughters, smiled and nodded appreciatively. “It’s a beautiful dress, Vaerys,” he commented with warmth that made the little girl’s eyes shine.

Not wanting to be left out, Vaera quickly interjected, spreading the folds of her own dress. “Look at mine too!” she proclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of enthusiasm and expectation.

Aemond placed a loving kiss on Vaerys’s cheek, then another on Vaera’s cheek, making sure both felt his affection equally. The twins, satisfied with their father’s attention, moved away with playful laughter, their pink dresses fluttering as they disappeared into their own world of games and giggles.

Your husband approached you with a tenderness he only showed during the most intimate moments. Gently, he placed his hand on your swollen belly, caressing it with the same devotion he showed each day, as if already attuned to the new family member who was about to arrive.

“You look worried,” he murmured, his voice filled with concern as he pressed his forehead against yours, a gesture you shared when seeking comfort in each other’s closeness. “What’s wrong?”

The warmth of his skin and the familiarity of his touch reassured you, but the emotions you had been holding back began to surface. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting his presence calm your thoughts before you responded.

“It’s Aerion,” you confessed in a whisper, feeling the worry still weighing on your heart. “Today, he ran off and got too close to Vhagar and Silverwing. He almost… I can’t bear to think about what could have happened.”

“He’s a brave boy,” Aemond said, his voice soft but with the firmness of someone who understands the complex nature of his son. “I’ll talk to him.”

You nodded, knowing that Aemond, with his patience and wisdom, was the best person to guide Aerion in these moments. As the weight of your worry began to lift, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, resting your head against Aemond’s chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was a reassuring reminder of the strength and stability you always found in him.

Sensing your need for closeness, Aemond wrapped you in a warm embrace, his arms surrounding you with a tenderness that always surprised you, contrasting with his usual sternness. In that moment, the outside world, with all its worries and challenges, seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, connected in a silence full of understanding.

“You need to relax,” Aemond murmured, his voice caressing the air as gently as his hand moved up and down your back. The gesture was comforting, almost hypnotic, as if he wanted to erase the accumulated tension from every muscle in your body, leading you to a state of deep calm.

The warmth of his touch and the firmness with which he held you sent a wave of tranquility through you. You rested your head against his chest, letting yourself be carried by the steady rhythm of his breathing, which slowly synchronized with yours. You could feel his strength and protection enveloping you, offering you a refuge where you could rest without reservations.

“I’m here,” Aemond continued, his voice low, almost a whisper, resonating in your ear like an unbreakable promise. “You don’t have to carry all this weight alone. Together, we can handle anything.”

His words, laden with a love that didn’t need to be expressed with grand gestures, comforted you in a way that few things could. It was a reminder that, despite everything you faced, you weren’t alone in this journey. Aemond was by your side, sharing not only the joys but also the burdens that life imposed on you.

You felt his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back, a simple gesture that spoke of his desire to see you relaxed and at peace. Each caress seemed to take away a bit of the tension you had accumulated, and in response, you held onto him a little tighter, letting his presence envelop you completely.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely a whisper, but enough for him to hear. You lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, those eyes that always offered you the certainty that, no matter what came your way, you would face it together.

[charles-snippy]

Not to be like “kids these days” but some mfs in this generation are so unreasonably fucking selfish like I am actually so pissed because some people will do you so so dirty but then you’re not allowed to be mad because they didn’t mean it because they genuinely are that fucking stupid and devoid of empathy that they didn’t even think or care about the consequences that other people suffer because of their actions. Like fuck “I didn’t mean to” ok and you still fucking hurt me I don’t care if you meant it or not why do you care more about how I perceive you than the fact that you hurt me