#Thank god its Christmas by Queen

[thewolvesof1998]

🌲 name your 5 favourite christmas songs and pass this on to a blog you love 🌲

Hi love!!!!!

Gurl I have a whole Christmas playlist that’s six hours long this is the perfect ask for me (but also the worst because I it was so hard to choose):

1. I want a hippopotamus for Christmas by Gayla Peevey - this was easy because when I first heard this song like 5 years ago I knew it was going to be an all-time favourite.

2. Mele Kalikimaka by Bill Crosby and the Andrew Sisters (but I quite like the Kasey Musgraves cover)- again I heard this song five years ago and I'd never heard a Christmas song about warm Christmas which is what I grew up with.

3. I don't know what Christmas is (but Christmas time is here) by Old 97's- This is a new love, It was made for the Marvel Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas special but I love it so much.

4. Santa aint coming to town (he's drinking this year) by Thomas Mac- I don't know it just silly and I love it.

5. Happy Xmas (war is over) by John Lennon (I also love the cover by Miley Cyrus.)- A true classic, can't have Christmas without some old school rock Christmas songs and this is one of my favs.

thanks for your ask <3<3<3

My Christmas Playlist

[captain-lessship]

Kurt Cobain x fem!Reader Headcannons (NSFW included)

A/n: Was a request from for ever ago

- You and him were.. very different.

- To start, you were a sunny vacation town girl who’s daddy dearest owned several businesses in. You were on the more popular side in highschool, prom queen and Miss Seaside winner for two years in a row. Your parents expected you to go off to college, get an excellent degree and marry a lawyer. You didn’t go that route.

- You went to a few auditions and you got casted in a movie and that set off your career.

- They were proud that you were a Hollywood gal. Their sweet little girl? an actress! A loved one: funny, pretty and kind. You demanded the focus of the camera and it loved you. Now they expected you to win awards and marry an attractive actor like Johnny Depp or Leonardo DeCaprio. But the one you picked? Kurt Cobain. He wasn’t even an actor!

- Kurt was the kinda man your mom would faint and send your Dad into heart attack if you ever told them that you and Kurt were together. (Thank god you told you mother near a soft couch and your father has great health insurance.)

- It shocked at lot of people when you were seen at Nirvana shows, singing along and vibing with the rest of the crowd. It shocked them even more when Kurt came to your movie premiere. He wasn’t a formal guy yet here he was: by your side, supporting your achievements.

- Your parents eventually came around to the idea of him and warmed up to him being around. Kurt knew he was officially part of the family when he saw a stocking his nitial on your alls mantel.

- Kurt was a very gentle person despite the persona he developed for the stage.

- Many thought that he didn’t love you when the pictures of you both appeared in magazines. In those pictures, he looked like being with you was torture but that wasn’t the truth at all.

- In the majority of the random paparazzi pictures, Kurt seemed standoffish like a cat who had its tail stepped on, while you were just rattling on about what your plans were. You both blamed it on no context.

- Your voice always grounded Kurt and sometimes his anxiety would hit him in public.

- But the ones your loved ones took?Kurt looking at you like you are the love of his life (you are). Your favorite was from the Christmas dinner you and the rest of Nirvana decided to have while on tour. You were sitting in Kurt’s lap and you were unwrapping the gift Krist had gotten you. Kurt was looking at you like you were an art piece and you frozen in laughter. You kept this photo on your bedside table and had another copy in the hallway.

- After it was well established that you both were together, Kurt was affectionate in public. He would pepper kisses to your cheek and the corners of your lips when you sat in for interviews, leaving the talking to Dave. He could be seen resting his head against your shoulder during car rides, award ceremonies and when you guided him home when he had too much to drink or smoke, his lips would always try to attach themselves to yours.

- If Kurt was ever missing, all they had to do was find you and he wouldn’t be more than a few feet away.

- If you’d let him, he’d be in the bathroom while you took a shower. You didn’t mind it because it was never an inconvenience. Kurt knew when he could and couldn’t be attached to you.

- Kurt jokingly covers Dave’s and Krist’s eyes if you have a semi-nude scene in a movie. But if they were to stare too hard (they don’t), he would throw something at them.

- You both share cigarettes often. He used to grumble about the lipstick stain you left on them but he grew to love them and miss them even.

- He was even more affectionate in private, constantly laying his head in your lap, pulling you into his lap on the rare occasion he was sitting up. Krist and Dave joked that if he wasn’t touching you, he’d die.

- It was half true. He was saddened and moody when you weren’t around. Krist gave up and called you when they were trying to take the pictures for the Nevermind album. The second you walked in the building, Kurt’s mood improved tenfold

- It was mutual. Any time you were having a near breakdown over something, someone just had to call Kurt. He once came to your studio to console you over your hair, which the stylist who stepped in for your regular, had just melted with bleach. He assured you that you looked sexy with shorter hair and you felt better and the stylist lived to see another day. (He was right and you were a real trend setter with your shorter hair with layers.)

- At home, you and him were very quiet (strange ik). But it was comfortable quiet and it never was completely silent.

- Only the sound of soft guitar playing and the flipping pages of your book could be heard. It was peaceful.

- People were always shocked to hear you say how good of a lover he was, which highly offended you.

- “He can be a four to you and a ten to me and that’s alright cause he’s not for you.” Is what you snapped at an interviewer who was wondering why you were dating Kurt.

- They wanted you to say either money or fame but your answer was what you thought. Kurt was pissed that they were all but calling you a gold digger when you actually had your own gold and no need for his.

- Flowers came to you every time he was away. You kept a dried flower from every bouquet

- He would pick a necklace from your jewelry box and wear it if he was going to be gone for a while.

- He kisses you softly, as if he would bruise you if he did other wise. His finger traced shape into your arms and on the top of your hand.

- His stubble tickles you often and he purposefully rubs his face against the side of your neck or your face to get you to laugh. (You go through the stages of grief every time he shaves)

- Matching tattoos <3

- You took great care of Kurt. When he would go into a depressive episode, you would tenderly coax him into still taking care of himself.

- You would sit in the bathroom with him when he showered, sometimes even wash his hair for him. You would wrap him in a bath robe and have him face the wall and you would blow dry and brush his hair. He hated seeing himself in this state so you had him avoid the mirror.

- You would sit out clothes for him and he’d get dressed while you made him something to eat. He would eat and you would talk to him, hopefully keeping him distracted from his thoughts.

- “You deserve better”

- You didn’t believe him when he said it. “I think you’re perfect for me.”

- That eased his thoughts for a while. He believed that you deserved someone who wasn’t sick, in pain and moody all the time but you wanted him. He knew he had to wife you up.

- To give him credit, he took great care of you. He would paint your nails, clean your makeup brushes, rub your shoulders and would leave you little treats in the house or in your car.

- Every night that he was home, he would hold you and rub your back til you fell asleep. If you held him, you would play with the hair at the base of his neck til you heard soft snores.

- He was always appreciative for all that you did for him, often gloating and talking about you. “Oh my girlfriend? The angel that was sent to earth? Yeah she likes my songs.” “My girlfriend can do that.” “Have you seen my girlfriend in that new show?”

- He worshipped the very ground you walked on.

- You and him were acting like an old married couple from the day you made it official. With wild careers, you didn’t have it in you to have wild free time. You were both gentle souls deep down and it was brought out when you were together.

- When you and him got married, it was a bitch to plan. He had shows, you had filming. After months, you decided on a September wedding at a nice venue. Everything had gone perfect until your reception. You had changed into your shorter party dress and were heading to see Kurt when it happened.

- It started to rain. Kurt looked at you and you looked at Kurt. You both had the same idea.

- You kicked off your heels and he took off his jacket and out you two went: playing in the rain.

- You both were soaked and laughing. You and him were kicking water at each other. Some of your less up tight guests joined in. Slowly turning it into a muddy brawl.

- Best Wedding Ever.

——————NSFW——————

- The first time you and Kurt had sex was after one of your award shows, you didn’t win but you were about to win something else.

- Kurt had been loving how you looked in your dress. When you returned home, your usual make out session seemed to have more behind it. You picked up on what he wanted to do before he admitted it.

- It was an experience. He fucked you like you’d never been fucked before. He held one of your legs up by your ankle and had magnificent rhythm. He loved the honey dipped noises that came from you.

- Has effectively ruined the idea of ever having sexual encounters with anyone else (not that you would ever think about it but if anything ever happened between the two of you? It’s a life of nun hood for you.)

- After you were finished and cleaned up, you and him laid next to each other, smoked a cigarette and looked at each other with nothing but love.

- Playful wrestling was typically how you ended up making love. You either ended pinning him down or he would hold you back by the band of your bra, pushing him to be tempted to take it off of you.

- There was another popular reason that lead to sex. You were not oblivious to how the grunge girls looked at him like some sort of god. You weren’t typically the jealous type but just something about the very dedicated fans hit a nerve. grabbing his hand and leading him away.

- He was confused the first few times this happened, thinking you were mad at him but it clicked when you entered your hotel room. You simply took off your shirt and pants and Kurt got the hint.

- While Kurt didn’t get jealous of your male co stars, he would jokingly make fun of them to Dave and Krist. If they were staring at you or were trying to get that on screen romance to translate to real life, he would simply enter the conversation and mock them to their faces. He did it in a way that they really couldn’t do much without having to admit they were after a taken woman.

- He then would take you home. He would ask things like “Do you think he could do it like this?” I am better than him, right?” (This lead to neighbors being able to faintly hear you scream Kurt’s name)

- Kurt is the president of the thigh lover club. He kissed, bit and sucked hickeys on them.

- Kurt isn’t mean persae but he has a mean streak. He would hold off thrusting back into you if he wanted an answer from you, take a little too long to do things or his famous line that he gives if you say speed up. “You do it then.”

- You do it then = He would lay on his back and let you ride it out like a maniac with very little input from him.

- Most of the time, if neither you nor Kurt had the energy but the urge, you would simply rest yourself on his cock and stay until either you had to separate or one of you wanted to properly fuck the other.

- Due to his back problems (it’s what he blamed it on in the beginning before you told him that having preferences were important and his were respected), his favorite positions were ones where you were on top or were you both on your sides.

- ABSOLUTELY loses it when you look back at him while you are reverse cowgirling.

- When he was on top, he had to be looking at you. He wanted to see your expressions. The turned on haze your eyes made him cum almost instantly.

- You and him have had “funny” sex. Meaning you will try things you see in movies and pronos that you both know wouldn’t work between the two of you but would be funny to attempt (Mythbusters of Sex). Even if it completely failed, you both would laugh it off and go do something else like you riding Kurt for dear life.

- Since you were an actress, you had access to costumes and props. You would have sexy fashion shows. His personal favorite was the 70s go-go dancer get up, mainly due to the moves to match.

- There have been some absolute sexual blunders; You were slightly sticky which made you uncomfortable after he finished licking whipped cream off your tits and he nearly froze to death during the lead up shower sex. A sticky woman is an unhappy woman and a frozen man is an unmotivated man.

- When he would go off on tours, you would eventually get so horny that you would have to call him just to listen to his voice. When he figured out that you were touching yourself during these phone calls, his mean streak took hold. It was like a game: he would say the most perverted things to you and you would have to tell him when you came.

- You loved this game, which is why you kept calling.

- When he got back home though, it was your turn to play around. You acted completely oblivious to the call you made and this confused the man. He wasn’t a beggar but an only after a few hours of being home, he would be begging.

- You mercilessly teased him about it, sometimes throwing his word back at him.

- “Missed me? Poor baby.” “So turned on you don’t even know what to do?” “Tell me exactly how you want it.”

- Neither one of you were set in the dominant or submissive role, it depended on the mood.

- You would be the more submissive one if Kurt was gone for a long time or if Kurt seemed very happy.

- Kurt would be the more submissive one if you were mad at your job or if you were the more horny one.

- This man tries to seduce you in the serotypical ways (He read those romance books with the shirtless cowboy men on the covers) but it doesn’t work on you. But when he isn’t even trying, you’re looking at him like a sex god.

- One time, all he did was walk up behind you and massage your shoulders as you were venting about a particularly stressful day, the only difference to the million other shoulder rubs was the fact he leaned in and whispered in your ear. A few hours later, you were spent, half asleep and Kurt was laying there with a hundred yard stare and the post nut shivers.

- You have flashed him during a Nirvana show and he turned bright red and nearly forgot the words to the song.

- Poor Dave has walked in on you guys once. Was traumatizing and he couldn’t look you or Kurt in the eyes without turning red. (May or may not have was to teasing from the both of you like offering him the chance to join, asking if you both could make it as porn stars and asking if what design of tramp stamp you should get since he’d see it too)

- Suffice to say you and Kurt have a healthy and gratifying sex life.

[clerifik]

the outsiders headcanons !

(christmas edition)

darry:

- christmas always reminded him of his parents because it was their favourite holiday, but it was also his favourite holiday, so it was bittersweet.

- he started hauling out the christmas decorations a day after thanksgiving.

- both soda and ponyboy were as excited as fleas on a dogs arse when they started decorating

- EGGNOG WHORE. he drinks it by the litre.

- he insisted that he didn’t need any help when getting their tree, and nearly killed himself in the process

- “hey son, do you need any he-” “IM FINE!”

- unironically walks around in a santa hat during the entire month of december.

- even though money is tight, he makes sure to buy the gang gifts. besides his brothers, he especially focused on johnny because he knew that chances of his folks forgetting about him were pretty high.

soda:

- wakes everyone up at 6am to christmas carols. (darry nearly chucked a pillow at his head once)

- again. insanely excited to decorate.

- he’s literally 5 years old. he’d throw on his snow pants when it began to snow & he’d spend hours out there building snow forts, making snow angels, etc etc.

- once built a full force snow fortress in his front yard & the gang was like “????” because who the hell has that kind of time.

- only thing he hates ab christmas is that he gets sick INSANELY easily during the colder months…and he’s a total whiner, so you’ll hear about his minor cold (that he’ll talk about like its cancer) for WEEKS.

- makes stockings for everyone because he’s just so cutesy like that

- pretty lights make his brain go brrrr

pony:

- the first christmas they had together without their parents, darry made the mistake of not-so-hiding the presents marked with “santa” out in the open of his room, so pony just had to stand there and stare with his jaw dropped because WHAT DO YOU MEAN SANTA ISN’T REAL????

- it actually put him through quite a bit of distress.

- ugly christmas sweater LOVERRR

- they had a tradition since they were really young, that the youngest puts the star on top of the tree, so to carry out the tradition darry just casually throws pony on his back so he can put the tree topper on.

- ALSO drinks eggnog by the litre… he just manages to make himself sick

- will spend HOURS decorating a tree, its his favourite part about christmas.

- he’s also a whore for tinsel. he loves how it shines.

- soda thinks its really funny to put bows in his hair with the left-over gift wrap supplies. pony just stares at him with the 😠 face.

johnny:

- lowkey kind of hates christmas.

- before the gang, he’d be forced to sleep in his house a lot because it was far too cold in the lot, and that never ended well.

- they’d also hardly ever celebrate christmas, so he’d see his classmates talk about everything they got, and see all their new clothes, while he was just thankful his dad didn’t hit him that day.

- the gang definitely made up for it though, they helped him get into the spirit.

- darry & dally always buy him stuff for christmas, and he can’t help but feel insanely guilty. that adds to his disliking towards christmas.

- johnny does like looking at decorations, though. sometimes dally would walk around the neighborhood with him & just look at christmas lights together.

dally:

- dally was a big christmas fan… but he’d never let the gang know that. because HEAVEN FORBID dallas winston ever enjoys something in his life

- he thinks he’s the ultimate edgelord clearly.

- much like johnny, he didn’t grow up with a proper family to show him what christmas looks like, so he tried to stay around the curtis’ place as much as possible.

- sat there on the couch watching them decorate the house and it took every bone in his body not to take over the decorating and do it himself because GOD were they unorganized & uncoordinated.

- our little interior design queen 😋

- but REMEMBER… nobody’s allowed to know he actually enjoys christmas.

- eat sleep breathe candy cane hot chocolate (same dally dw)

- everyone thinks he takes johnny to see the lights just for him.. but little do they know dally absolutely loves them too.

- the first year darry bought dallas a gift he just sat there like “…? me? for me?” then had to excuse himself to the bathroom so he didn’t have a breakdown.

- proposed that they made a cigarette garland instead of popcorn.

steve:

- randomly appears with the weirdest decorations possible.

- he just casually brought a 12 foot train set to the curtis house and sat there for 2 hours assembling it on their livingroom floor.

- picks up every individual present and starts shaking it, listening like he can determine exactly what it is by the sound.

- “hey johnny! i think you’ve got a gold bar in here…. dallas. sounds like a big ole lump of coal for you pal.”

*cue angry dally noises*

two-bit:

- dressed up as santa & decided it’d be a fabulous idea to go door-to-door for a little meet and greet.

- a family called the fuzz on him & he’s never ditched a costume so fast in his life.

- walked around the streets whistling, and when the cops approached him & asked if he saw a guy that fit the description, he just pointed down the road & walked in the opposite direction.

- comes over to the curtis house on christmas just to eat their food & then leave

- raccoon core

[thealexandriaarchives]

The Arrakis Royal Ballet in Arrakeen has just had a crisis of leadership under the management of the CHOAM Foundation which oversees its board, and Vladimir Harkonnen has been ousted as chairman, which means two things: Oh thank god we don't have to watch the same 5 Tchaikovsky shows over and over again this season, Swan Lake and The Firebird are FINE but GOD- and the Company's default leading man for every performance, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, will suddenly have to compete for his slot.

That's totally fine, but the next person to fill the board's slot is Leto Atredies, a man who's actively investigating the Harkonnens for using the Ballet for money laundering as well as reputation laundering, and his son, Paul Atredies, is about to make his international debut after being quietly... discouraged, from applying. Still, whether as a PR move or an olive branch, Leto suggests a Ballet to fit the bill: Giselle.

It's French, so it will give people something different from the aggressively Russian fare Vlad had selected for the last several seasons. ...A bit unfair, perhaps, Chani had been hoping for Balanchine outside of Christmas, but Feyd never expected he'd even get so much as Italian. Paul Atredies was taught by masters in the classical French schools and he's got the light, precise, delicate footwork and speed to show for it. Hell with that slight frame, and some of the moves Feyd has seen him do on TikTok, which is about the only place he's been able to perform up until now, there have even been whispers he could perform the female roles just as easily.

But Giselle is good. It will give Chani some space to show off her acting chops as she falls in love and goes insane, casts Irulan well as a cold and vicious wraith queen, ordering men to their deaths, and it's underperformed- often because it requires two strong male leads in the same company.

As soon as he hears the name Feyd-Rautha doesn't kid himself about which role he'll be playing. Even if he didn't personally prefer Hilarion to the lying noble prick Albrecht is revealed to be, there's no way the new chairman's son and anointed star is going to be the one drowned like a rat in a bucket by the end of act two.

Besides, Feyd knows what the last act requires physically, and he's seen Atredies throwing his whole body into full spins again and again through the air in his million dollar barre studio online. Feyd's just not going to let a spoiled green debutante get away with blowing this for everyone else.

So on the first day of rehearsals, while Chani and Stilgar are off with the set designer, discussing the frankly insane decision to replace the woods and lake with a desert terrain out of Lawrence of Arabia, Feyd-Rautha sidles up to their untested new danseur noble as he laces his shoes.

"I hear you're our new Duke of Arrakis."

[whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell]

Vatic - Chapter XV " Sapphires "

Series Description :The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister. 

Chapter Description : A tourney is held in honor of the nameday of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera Targaryen.

A/n : Merry fucking Christmas. hope ya'll enjoy, this chapter kicked my ass

Warnings : Y/n is beginning to have subconscious feelings for Aemond, other than that I don’t think there’s anything, taking glee in someone else's misery ig, tourney violence, absolutely not beta read or edited ( ya'll been waiting close to two months idk )

Pairing : Eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 5.9 K

The news had come as they were readying their favors. Maris had a pile of white roses and small purple flowers - that were not even the size of Y/n’s nail on her smallest finger - in front of her, carefully weaving it in preparation for the tourney. Y/n had a pile of red and yellow poppys. Something about the combination just seeming to call to her. 

They had almost finished when Septa Jeyne came in. The grey fabric around her face in the style of a septa’s robes did nothing for her round face, but the added on fact that she was red was also not helping her. 

“Princess, it is the King.” Was all she had said to begin the conversation. But Y/n only stared at the septa. There were many things about Viserys at this moment. He was losing bits of flesh and digits the longer he seemed to hold onto life. Just a month ago the maesters took his thumb and index finger from his left hand. Y/n, in truth, did not know if that was fact or fiction. She had not seen much of her father. In passing, perhaps. When she went to his chambers because her mother was busy helping to care for him there, but she had not spoken to the King in what felt like ages. 

“What of King Viserys?” Y/n had asked, a hint of irritation in her voice. 

“The maesters said his eye was infected. They have to cut it out so it-” Septa Jeyne stuttered. Her fondness for the king causing an emotional response. One that even Viserys’  youngest daughter could not muster. Jeyne was struggling to compose herself, wiping away any semblance of tears. “They have to cut it out so the infection does not spread.” 

The news had made her light up. But she did her best not to express it. She simply told the septa ‘thank you,’ and bid her farewell, dismissing her from the chambers. But Y/n could see how her calm response unnerved the septa, and even Maris. 

But once their favors were finished, Y/n had gone searching for her brother. She’d quickly found him. Aemond Targaryen, sitting in his bedchambers, facing the open balcony. He sat the wooden chair as if it were the Iron throne itself, and he was its King. She could tell even as she approached him from behind. 

She had never seen him sit in such a fashion. Most of the time, he’d try to make himself appear small, too afraid of what others thought of him. This was the first she’d seen him sit proudly. 

“Father had his eye cut out.” Aemond spoke suddenly, not even turning his head to face her.

She hummed in amusement. And at the same time, she found herself disgusted in her reaction. She despised the man who sired her, and yet, at the very same time, he was her father, and her King. But she did not dwell on that fact for very long. 

“I would call it a poetic justice if I did not know no better,” Y/n hummed, coming closer, her hands finding his shoulder without much thought. 

Perhaps the gods did listen to prayers. Or they had their own sense of right and wrong. The gods have no mercy, that’s why they’re gods. Perhaps not mercy, but justice. Carried out by the Father upon their very own. Everytime she joined their mother for prayer, it was what she prayed for. For justice for her brother’s disfigurment. 

Aemond hummed lowly, turning his head only slightly. But she saw it. Where his eye had once been, where it had been vacant for three years passed, was now something solid. It kept his eyelid structured and opened. Allowing him to blink, even if only slightly, due to the damage done.

It was a rich blue, sparkling in the sunlight. It startled her at first, it was unexpected. She had expected to see only the empty socket when he turned his head. 

“You do not need speak like a lady around me, sweet sister.” He began, reaching up for her hand, and guiding her to stand in front of him as he then stood as well. 

“Then I shall speak frankly. The King deserves it. For his inaction at Driftmark. His indiscretion at his own son being maimed.” She told him. Her finger reached up, gently touching the lines of his scar, completely absorbed by the mesmirizing glittering of the gem stone. 

“What would you have had happen? Would you have been at mother’s side? Plucking the bastard’s eye out as a payment for mine own?” His stare was intense. It wasn’t as sweet as it usually was. It was heavy, it made her feel like she was going to be crushed. 

She did not answer at first. She did not believe herself capable of such actions. Y/n was not a cruel girl. She took pride in being kind. She took pride in being the only child of Alicent’s who still kept in contact with her dear sister, Rhaenyra. 

“I do not know.” Y/n finally decided on her answer. She was not fully aware of their closeness. Of how their chests were nearly touching, and how his hands were resting on her hips. 

“Does it frighten you?” 

“Does what frighten me, Brother?” She questioned. 

“The sapphire.” He responded simply. 

Y/n shook her head. “It’s beautiful.” was her reply. She could not help but stare at it. It was so captivating that it was impossible to look away. “Why a sapphire?” 

“You.” 

That’s what pulled her attention from the sapphire, now, she stared directly into his lilac eye. “Me?” 

She felt the chain around her waist shift, and when she looked down, she was met with Aemond holding it, his thumb running across a square-cut sapphire. One of many on the waist chain that her mother had given to her. It suited many of the dresses she wore. 

Aemond did not speak for a moment, both of them looking down at the sapphire of her waist chain. If she did not know better, she would say she could hear his heart hammering against his chest. She could almost see it against his doublet. But she did know better. She knew better enough to assume it was her own. 

“You’ve been wearing sapphires. . . They looked beautiful on you. When any other lady of the court wore them, they paled in comparison. They wore them to make themselves appear more beautiful, to appear of a higher status. . . You wear them to compliment your own beauty. They do not make you appear of a higher status. Your own beauty is the sign of your status.”

Y/n was hesitant to look up from where he held her waist chain. She did not know why. All she knew, in truth, was that the smell of dragon, riding leathers, the training yard, and the perfumed oils he put in his hair were surrounding her. It was not overpowering. If anything, it was luring her. A lure she was uncertain of. 

But she did look up, and was met with him already staring at her. 

“You think me to be beautiful?” 

“Every lady in comparison is a failure.” He whispered, letting go of the waist chain, she could sense his hesitancy as he placed his hand on her side, right over her ribcage, under her arm. “You surely have to assist Helaena in readying for the tourney, do you not? Her own babes are turning a year old. The celebration is for her and the twins.” 

Y/n gave a small nod, reluctantly pulling away from him, and slowly moving towards the door, pulling it open and taking her leave from his chambers. 

The Princess took uncertain footsteps towards Helaena’s bedchambers, which had since moved after Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were born. Once the babes had arrived, she had moved to a room closer to the nursery, which had been unused since baby Joffrey had once lived in the Red Keep. 

She could hear ladies speaking as she arrived to the chambers, seeing two nursemaids sat on the stone floor with the babes, a soft blanket under them to protect the twins soft skin from the rough ground. Helaena was sat at a vanity in front of a window, allowing the bright sunlight in, and in the reflection of the small mirror atop the vanity, Y/n could see the sun illuminating her hair in such a way that it looked like molten silver cascading over her head and shoulders. Her violet eyes even brighter, and her skin glowing. She looked closer to a goddess than a woman. 

A few handmaidens were fussing over what do with Helaena’s hair, but Alicent was off to the corner of the room with Maris, speaking to her as if the two were close friends.

What pressure was put upon Helaena was unimaginable to Y/n. The pressure of knowing her only duty in this world was to produce and heir for Aegon. Though, Y/n did not know why. Aegon would not be King. Rhaenyra would take the throne after Viserys’ passed. 

“It does not feel right.” She heard her mother’s hushed voice. She was holding a handkerchief up to her face, a way to cover any insecurity of her facial expressions. She spent enough time around her mother to know what she did it for. 

Hesitantly, she approached the ladies. Maris was the first to notice her, giving her a kind smile. “Good morrow, Princess.” Maris spoke, reaching an arm out to take Y/n’s hand and pull her into the conversation of the two women. 

“Lady Maris.” She greeted warmly, taking the older girl’s hand, squeezing it twice as she was pulled in. “What does not feel right, Mother?” She asked curiously, looking at Alicent. 

“Your father just had his eye cut out.” Alicent informed. “It does not feel right to celebrate when he is in such a condition.” 

The Princess tilted her head and looked to Helaena who only continued to look out the window. he sun tha filtered its way through the glass illuminated her eyes. They looked like pale amethysts. 

“No.” Y/n muttered, looking back to her mother. “We should continue on. There’s no need to worry the people about their king. Surely rumors would fly if it were to be called off.” 

Alicent look at her youngest daughter without moving her head. A perturbed look upon her face, and she gave a half nod. “Yes. . . That’s what the Hand of the King said as well.” 

The young princess gave a small hum in response, uncertain of what to say. She was aware that while her mother held love for Otto Hightower, she did not seem to enjoy certain aspects of him, one always seemed to be the choices he made for their reputation to the common folk.  And now, her mother was eyeing her as though she had said something similar to whatever Aegon would say in such a situation. 

Y/n stepped away, and instead walked over to Helaena, placing a hand in front of her sister on the table to alert the elder girl of her presence close to her. Helaena did not enjoy being touched, and Y/n would sooner go great lengths to grab Helaena’s attention than to make her uncomfortable.

It seemed to do well enough. Helaena turned her head to gaze at Y/n. It was as if the very second she realized it was her, her face seemed to relax, and yet. . . Y/n knew that something was troubling her elder sister. 

“Sweet sister, whatever are you thinking about?” She questioned softly, looking to the handmaids and reaching a hand out to take the boar bristle hair brush from them. Once the polished wood of the handle had been placed in her hand, she stepped behind Helaena, gently brushing her hair out, attempting to make it shine like it always did for Y/n and their mother. 

“Threads.” was Helaena’s cryptic answer. Though, Y/n wasn’t really sure if Helaena was truly answering her, or murmuring to herself again. 

“I can see them.” She said as the handmaids walked away, and as Alicent and Lady Maris continued their discussions, and the nurse maids played with the twins on the floor behind them. 

“Threads? Of what, sister?”

“Banners.” Helaena turned her head slightly, peering at Y/n through the corner of her eye. “Black and red. . . Grey, white, green. torn. Threads interlocking. Black and green.”

Y/n nodded along, listening to her sister’s words, beginning to get the silver strands of hair to stay put and shine like molten steel of a yet to be forged sword. The silver of their jewelry, of silver. She found it to be interesting. The things Helaena said seemed to typically come to fruition. 

He’ll have to close an eye.

“What else?” Y/n asked curiously, but Helaena instead turned back, unanswering. “Was that all in the dream?”

Helaena shook her head but did not reply. Y/n only nodded and finished with Helaena’s hair, choosing to drop the conversation. Whatever it was that Helaena was choosing not to share, it must have made her uncomfortable. Or she did not know how to express it. 

“You do look beautiful, sister.” Y/n told her, running her fingers through Helaena’s hair before stepping to the side to look at her sister’s face. 

“She does,” Their mother agreed, coming up next to them and placing a hand on Helaena’s shoulder, to wich the older girl flinched. making a quiet ‘mmh’ noise of discomfort. “Well, I do suppose we should head to the tourney grounds. It is improper  to keep them waiting.”

Helaena stood from her chair, and as she did, the two nurse maids stood with the twins in their arms from their prior place on the ground. “May I take Jaehaerys?” Y/n questioned. It was a bold question. A sudden one. She had never held either of the twins prior, half the time she could not look at them, knowing what Aegon had done. 

Though, she did not await an answer as she approached the nurse maid holding the small babe with her arms already reaching out to take him. 

“Yes, Princess.” the nurse maid spoke as she handed the silver haired babe over to her. The little boy had a light spirit, and his giggles sounded like what the heavens must have sounded like. Holding him was comfortable. The feeling of his head coming to rest on her shoulder made her almost melt. He and Jaehaera must have been the sweetest and most innocent ones in their family. 

Y/n leaned her head against Jaehaerys as Maris went to take Jaehaera from her nurse maid. “Surely you can allow the nursemaids to watch the babes?” Alicent suggested. 

Y/n only shrugged. “The tourney is a celebration of their name day. I only wish for them to be seen instead of hidden in the back with the maids.” She informed her mother. Frequently, the twins were hidden in the back of every function unless they were right by Helaena’s side. Y/n knew the reason. Their mother’s guilt ate at her freely and unapologetically. And although Y/n also struggled to sometimes look at the babes and even her sweet sister, she knew that the children nor Helaena were to blame for how they came into the world. It was Aegon’s lust a cruelty. 

Maris had told her much about the truth of her brother. She had always been keenly aware of his unsavory nature, just not the true extent of it until Maris had taken it upon herself. It was the reason why Y/n seemed to be so apprehensive of the men of the court. What if they were just like him? What if she met the same fate as Helaena? Or their mother? 

Finding their ways to the tourney grounds did not take much effort, and as they found their seats, a handmaiden gave them their favors that they had all made. 

Helaena’s was gorgeous. Pale purple flowers and pale greenery. Light and gentle. Maris sat between Helaena and Y/n, leaving seats for Aemond and Aegon on either side of them. And not long after, the Hand of the King took his seat beside his daughter, and others found themselves within the royal box seats. Aegon finding his drunken way to sit beside Helaena, and Aemond coming to sit next to Y/n, his eyepatch covering the new sapphire. 

Y/n could smell Aegon from her seat. A strong yet cheap ale. Certainly not the wine frequently imported from the southernmost parts of the reach that were served during every meal. However, ever since Aegon proved himself incapable of self control, their mother limited their intake. Only two cups a day at the most. A bottle was never to be handed to any of them, save for Aegon. The letcher would throw a fit as though he were no older than his own children if the maids or stewards refused his advances for a full bottle of wine or something even stronger. 

“Nykeā vaoreznon?”A favor? Aemond whispered to her, leaning his head towards her, and in response, Jaehaerys leaned over to Aemond, placing a hand on the green fabric of his sleeve, palming it, and scratching at the seams. 

As he spoke, he had also reached out to take the favor from her hands. And once he had it, he examined the flowers she had chosen for it. Typically, they could have favors made by the handmaidens, or maids, but Maris and Y/n had chosen to make them themselves. 

“Muñnykeā jeldan syt ziry.” Mother wished for it. 

She let Aemond continue to examine it, flipping it upside down, his fingers running across the stems of flowers that had been woven together as best as Y/n’s untrained nimble fingers could. She was better at needle work it would seem. 

“Skoro syt?” Why? The question he posed seemed foolish to her. But it was not a side of life he was ever truly exposed to. He could know every little thing about the ancient legends of Yi Ti, or how to wield a sword, but not know the very intricate process of a high standing family attempting to marry a daughter off in the hopes of  strengthening the bonds between houses and the things they did to make that daughter appear more attractive to suitors. 

“Vali hen eglie lenton issi kesīr tubī.” Men of high houses are here today. Some were of course already married, some too intimidated to approach her, some who knew better than to approach, and then there would be the few that had the confidence to do so. 

Aemond went quiet and the favor remained in his hands and Jaehaerys wiggled within her arms, making noises of discomfort before finally settling down and leaning back in her chest, the back of his head resting on her arm as she sat. 

“Ao kostagon va moriot vestragon daor-” You could always say no-. Aemond had begun to say. However, Alicent leaned forward from behind them in her own seat, her head appearing between their own. It came mostly as a flash of red hair in Y/n’s periphery, but when she turned to look, their mother had already begun speaking. 

“I have told you both many times that it is disrespectful to speak in a language the others around you do not understand. If either of you do it again I will have one of you  switch seats with Aegon.” 

It was a hefty threat. No one wished to sit next to the stench that reaked fromAegon. And no one wished to sit in a seat he had previously sat in. 

“Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, Mother.” Both Y/n and Aemond agreed. And with that Alicent leaned back in her own seat, and resumed her own conversation with their grandsire. 

Y/n however, kept her head in that position, sharing a glance with Aemond. The Princess found herself staring more so than just glancing at her brother. His one eye seemed to hold such gentleness for her. It had become such a rare sight to see from him. Whenever she saw him from across a large room, or across a courtyard, or even at their own dining table, his eye was cold, holding something back wherever he went. And everyone, particularly the ladies of court, seemed uncomfortable with his disfigurement. Grown lords and knights seemed to be disturbed by it. In truth, Y/n felt as though she was the only one who did not see him any differently than he once was. And whenever he looked at her? She would see his gaze soften. 

Y/n did not know how long she had looked at Aemond before a horn was blown from down below in the arena. A man stood down below. “For our first round! Ser Arthur of house Redwyne!” At that, there was applause, and out came riding the knight from the left, his armor a deep steel color, his lance the colors of his house. 

“And his opponent! Ser Edwell Celtigar!” And from the right, came riding Celtigar. Crabs engraved onto the vambraces of his armor. “As always, if you are to strike your opponent or their horse, you will be disqualified! To gain points, you must attempt to knock your opponent off their horse! As always, good luck, and may the best knight win!” 

A roar of cheering erupted in the stands from both across and to the sides of the royal box as the two men then galloped to opposite ends of the barrier in the dirt. But in all, as the tourney commenced, she found it to be a concerning form of entertainment. She had been to tourneys before, but had never truly been paying attention. Usually sitting with her mother, and playing unnoticeable games with Aemond, or if Rhaenyra had been there? She’d be chatting up a storm with her elder sister. 

She’d heard the rumors once. How Daemon Targaryen had once gone toe to toe with Gwayne Hightower. Both men were her uncles. However, according to the rumors, Daemon had targeted Gwayne’s horse. Attempting to pick up a cheap victory. 

Rounds after rounds came and went, Y/n had sat there long enough for the wet nurses to come and take the twins from her and Maris and quickly take their leave to feed them in the privacy of the Red Keep. 

Ser Edwell had lost against Celtigar, and Celtigar had made it through plenty of rounds against many other men. He bested a Clegane and a Mormont back to back. And eventually, when Brandon Tarly, Maris’ elder brother galloped into the arena, he came up to the box, lifting his helm off of his head. “Sister,” He greeted Maris. 

The Tarly girl had a bright smile come to her lips. “Brother! You did not say you would be here.” 

“I only arrived this morning.” He shrugged slightly before giving his attention behind them. “My deepest gratitude to you, my Queen, for hosting me.” 

“Of course, Ser Brandon. We are fond of your sister, Lady Maris. I would be beside myself if I were to turn away her brother. I wish you the best of luck.” Alicent responded from behind Y/n.

Brandon nodded, and looked to Maris once more. “I am always of the belief that luck given from family is stronger than that of a stranger. Sister, if you would give me your favor?” He gestured to the favor Maris was holding. 

Maris got up from her seat and approached him, placing the garland favor onto his lance. allowing it to fall to the flared base of it where it sat. “I do wish you the best of luck, Brother. Make father proud.” 

Ser Brandon gave a curt nod and lowered his helm before going to his position for the round. 

“Lady Maris, how long has it been since you’ve seen your brother?” Alicent questioned, leaning down to speak to the girl. “If I recall correctly, You’ve been here since Y/n was nine. She’s nearly one and three now.” 

Maris had turned her body to face Alicent. “Yes, your Grace. It has been that long. I write to my family often. We send each other gifts.”

Y/n’s mother hummed, and with that Maris turned back to the arena below, watching in time as Ser Brandon beat Ser Edwell. 

“You do not have to give your favor to anyone.”  Aemond murmured beside her, having leaned close in order for no one else to hear. Y/n shook her head in response. He had made his protest to such actions to gain suitors known. Any time she was walking through the gardens with a potential suitor with Alicent and Ser Criston not far away in order to supervise, she knew Aemond was never far either. She’d always catch his piercing gaze focused on whatever potential suitor she was speaking to. Sly comments in High Valyrian always made when they were in private, or looks of disinterest whenever she spoke of one of them. 

He was always her fearless protector. Ever so cautious of a stranger coming near her. And yet, it would seem he went green with envy every time a suitor came near her, She had seen him enough times and heard his comments enough times to know it was envy. 

Aemond Targaryen forever jealous of Y/n’s suitors. 

“I will do as I must.” She replied. 

There was a moment of silence. “If I were in a tourney and I asked for your favor, would you give it to me?” 

Y/n stopped breathing. And slowly, she turned her head to look at him, but stopped when she could feel his breath on her skin from his closeness, and could practically feel his nose against her cheek. 

She didn’t think before she spoke. But the answer that she whispered to him was the truth. Her own truth. “I would give you my favor,” Y/n leaned back only slightly so she could look at him. “And whatever else you asked from me.” 

Within their own bubble, just as brother and sister, they were in silence. Typically, silence made Y/n uncomfortable. It was always a sign of tension within the family, or Theobrand was disappointed in her for something. But it was always different with Aemond. She could live in his silent presence for eternity and be at peace. 

She did not know what had happened, only that she felt Maris from beside her, nudge her arm. 

Y/n looked away from Aemond suddenly, and towards the arena only to see Ser Raymond down below at the railing of the royal booth. 

“Princess,” He greeted. His helm was up and he gave her a warm grin. His armor was intricately made. With lions scattered around on the steel in a complicated yet beautiful mosaic, and it had been painted in the engravings. With red filling every lion, and white within the scattered engravings. 

Armor fit for royalty. She did not want to imagine how much it had cost House Reyne. 

“Ser.” She greeted in return, giving a small nod and apprehensive smile. 

Maris nudged Y/n again, and as though it were instinct, the princess stood up and approached the railing, looking down at the knight of House Reyne below her. 

“I wanted to ask, Princess. Would do me and my house the honor of your favor.” He questioned. His voice was far softer than it often was in the few times they had spoken at court. He had always appeared to be kind, but the princess knew better than to make assumptions of people when they’d had very few encounters. 

He was older than her. He was an eldest son, a knight, and she would be lying if she said she did not think he was handsome. Her mother and grandsire wanted her to find an appropriate suitor. He seemed. . . perfectly acceptable. 

Y/n turned briefly to grab her favor from Aemond who still had it in his hands, and as she turned back around, she watched as Ser Raymond lifted his lance for her to place the favor. Y/n placed it over it and let go, watching as it fell down the lance down to the flared base, a petal falling off as it landed. 

“I wish you luck. . .” She told him, and hesitantly gave another smile to him. “Ser.” 

As Y/n sat back down she could see Maris smiling from beside her, and could hear her mother and grandsire speaking in hushed whispers. She need not ask what they were speaking on. Y/n already knew. 

All the while, she felt Aemond’s heavy gaze on her. 

Y/n could not truly concentrate. She was aware that a few rounds had passed before Ser Raymond had requested her favor, and that he was now going against Maris’ brother. But she did not truly know what had happened. 

“Where are we?” Y/n leaned to Maris and asked. “In the tourney?” She asked a second question to not sound as though she was going mad. 

“Only two more rounds. Whoever defeats the last person in the last round is the winner.” Maris reminded. 

“Right,” 

As Y/n looked back to the men in front of them, Ser Raymond had knocked Ser Brandon from his horse, shattering the shield he had. 

There were gasps being echoed through the arena, men and women alike standing up to get a better look at whatever damage had been done. Maris was one of them, standing so quickly that Y/n was convinced she’d go falling over the edge of the railing. But Maris stood cautiously at the railing, and Y/n joined her, grabbing her hand to offer the older girl comfort. 

Ser Brandon was laid flat on the dirt ground, clutching his side. His helm yards away from him, knocked off in the fall to the hard ground. 

Ser Raymond’s horse trotted up to Ser Brandon, and Raymond slid himself off of the horse., ripping his own helm off and coming to Brandon’s aide, kneeling down beside him, a hand on his armored chest, and the other on his shoulder. 

After a few moments of stewards and the maester running to Ser Brandon’s side, a young steward boy and Ser Raymond assisted Brandon in getting up onto his feet. 

“Is he alright!?” Maris shouted over, clutching the stone of her necklace. 

No answer came

“Is my brother okay!?” She shouted once more. 

“He’s alright, M’lady!” The steward yelled back. “Just got the wind knocked out of him!” 

Maris exhaled a sigh of relief, and they both stood and watched as they assisted Ser Brandon away. Maris released Y/n’s hand and rushed for the exit of the booth, no doubt to reach Brandon quicker. 

Y/n almost went to follow, however, Ser Raymond called out her name from below, and when she looked down, he was standing right below, looking up at her. 

“I apologize that you had to see such a thing, Princess.” He called up. 

She shook her head. “It has always been a fact of tourneys, Ser. You need not apologize to me. But perhaps to the sister of the knight you knocked off of his horse. You’ve given her quite the fright.” 

Raymond’s face dropped a little and he nodded. “I suppose you are right. Tourneys are not peaceful events. I shall do as you say, Princess, and offer my apologies to Ser Brandon Tarly and his sister, Lady Maris once the tourney is over.” 

Y/n watched him for a moment as he then returned to his horse, and got back into the position for the next round. 

“Ser Roose of house Rysewell!” A man announced, and out came a man in dark steel armor. 

Y/n sat back down next to Aemond and a now empty seat. Her attention was glued to Ser Raymond as the final round began. 

She watched as the two ran back and forth on the backs of their horses, attempting to hit the other with their lance, and after many attempts, Ser Raymond had hit Ser Roose, knocking him off of his horse as he had for Ser Brandon, but both the horse and Roose fell to the ground, and while the horse quickly stood up from the ground within a second, it took a few more for Roose to get up onto his feet again. 

The crowd erupted into cheers, realizing that Ser Raymond had won the tourney. Lords and ladies alike celebrated and shouted from the stands as he sat on the back of his horse, holding the reins to keep the horse still. He pulled his helm off once more and looked around the crowd, a bright smile coming to grace his features. 

“Princess!” He announced over the crowd, turning the horse to look at the booth she was in, and making eye contact with her from down below. “If I may ask for you to come down into the arena?” 

Y/n felt all eyes on her, and she felt Aemond’s hand grasp her own all of a sudden in a tight grip. She turned to look behind her, where her mother was sat on the edge of her seat, contrary to only a moment ago when she was lounged back. 

Alicent nodded, and Y/n’s grandsire gestured towards the exit of the booth. As she stood, it felt as though all of the blood in her body had gone cold as began to walk towards the exit, and Aemond’s hand slipped out of her’s. Ser Criston was hot on her heels, quick to guide her down to the arena. 

As Criston led her down the stairs and to the door underneath the booth, and once opened, Ser Raymond hopped down from the horse. “Princess,” He greeted warmly, bowing to her as she approached him, and before she could process what he was doing, he had grabbed her hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. 

“I’m afraid your favor did not withstand the test of a tourney. However, it seemed to have served me well.” He told her as he stood back at his full height, his hand still holding her own as he spoke. 

“I’m glad for that, Ser. You have shown yourself to be an honorable fighter, and capable of being the victor fairly.” 

Ser Raymond then looked to his left and gestured to someone. She could not look at him or whoever he had gestured to in that moment, she instead looked back up at the booth. Aemond was leaning forward, putting most of his weight into his hand that was rested on his knee, intently watching what was unfolding in front of him, Helaena’s head was tilted with piqued curiosity, Aegon didn’t seem to in as much of a drunken stupor and was also watching. 

Her mother, and grandsire were watching. Otto was whispering to Alicent, though he seemed pleased, and Alicent. . . Well, her mother was hardly ever difficult to read. But in this moment, she was impossible. Every other microsecond, and it would seem as though her mother’s face went from pride and joy, to fear and guilt. 

“Princess Y/n,” Raymond spoke, taking his hand from her’s. She looked back towards him, and noticed a man handing over a laurel of delicate white flowers and small red ones every here and there over to Ser Raymond. “I had this made by my sister in the case that I won. Specifically for you.” He then looked out to the crowd. and bellowed;

“I, Ser Raymond of House Reyne, The victor of this tourney,  wish to dedicate my victory to the Princess Y/n, and crown Princess Y/n of house Targaryen, as the queen of love and beauty!”

There was cheering once more, and Ser Raymond gently lowered the laurel onto her head.

Add yourself to the taglist !

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers ( bb im so sorry this took so long ily ) @winxschester @blissfulbluenights @ghostlypineappl @dreaming-of-the-reality @strangersunghoon @shesjustanothergeek @floralsightings @watercolorskyy

[aelinschild]

Season Of Forgiveness

Main Masterlist

Happy Holidays everyone!! I'm a little (Very, sorry!!) late with this post, but this is my gift for the 2023 Rowaelin Secret Santa! Big thank you to @rowaelinscourt for organizing it!! This is dedicated to the lovely @shyvioletcat , I wish you a very merry holiday season, and hopefully you enjoy this absolute monstrosity. I actually do not know what took over me during writing this, but I'm just happy its done.

SYNOPSIS: Holidays are known to be the season of joy, but when that joy is no longer Aelin's, she is forced to find peace in the unknown. WORDCOUNT: 9k GENERAL WARNINGS: Very light one bed trope, mentions of sex, angsty for no reason, swearing, alcohol, arguments, choking and CPR, happy ending dont worry

(A/N: After writing this, I realize it has the same vibe of calling Die Hard a Christmas movie. Granted, I actually didn't finish the movie, but from what I watched, how the fuck is it a Christmas movie?? This is me telling you that this fic is probably like that lol)

Hour One

Fuck.

There was really no other way to put it. Fuck is such a versatile word, situationally. Aelin can recount the times she's moaned out breathy fucks, and the times she's roared them during moronic altercations. 

This type of fuck? Certainly not the cathartic type. 

This fuck is the sum of all past mistakes in her life, multiplied by her best friend's scheming mind, and then raised to the power of the irrational choice to return to her old university town. 

On the queen-sized bed were two plush towels. A robe. Face cloths and minimal toiletries. 

Oh, and a fucking red rose. 

In Lysandra’s plush apartment – a classic Victorian style, with ivy creeping up the brick fireplace, and stained glass windows at odd intervals – she was the owner of three bedrooms. 

And to Aelin's luck, there happened to be two couples staying here this evening. Which meant two of the three bedrooms were now occupied. Mathematically speaking, the two other individuals would each need their own room. 

It seems that math slipped Lysandra's mind when she organized her little yearly anniversary Yulemas Eve dinner. How…pleasant.

Chest rising and falling with barely contained frustration, Aelin didn't know whether to yell or cry. Her hand held her overnight bag so tight her knuckles were pressing at the whites. Nails digging into supple skin. 

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Lysandra had done. But it took a lot of willpower for Aelin to not storm out of the room and choke her friend for the transgression. And just past the blood rushing in her ears, she could hear the friendly greetings of her other friends as they crossed the threshold of Lys’ little home. Welcomed into the warmth of tradition. 

Oh, I'm going to kill you, Lysandra. 

Aedion and Lys would – obviously – take their master bedroom. Located around a corner and at the end of that hall. Far from where Aelin was. A feature she was grateful for, given Aedion and Lysandra's… healthy love life. And Lorcan and Elide would slip into the downstairs spare room. The one the couple had claimed during the first year of this tradition. 

Leaving Aelin, in this spare room with a queen-sized bed and the bloody rose, to bed with Rowan. 

Oh, how she loathed her life at this moment. What foul god had she angered to be punished this way. Maybe that same god would derail Rowan’s cab en route. Shucking it into a frozen lake, or something of the like. 

Gently brushing over the towels, Aelin traced the other memories this room held. 

The queen-sized bed hardly fit her and Rowan, that she knew from experience. His height alone ruined the tucked edges of their duvet, which always ended up on his side of the bed by morning. The pillows would have to be mushed together in the middle so that they would not fall off. And Rowan, he at night would roll around. Restless, even in the deepest hours. He would usually end up on top of Aelin, face along her breasts and hair tickling her chin. 

Her fingers moved from the towel to the rose. Plucking it up, she held it at eye level. Studying the contours of the flower, it was beautiful. But Aelin couldn't get past the fact that Lysandra had set this up. And put a godsdamned rose on the towels. 

Aelin might just take the couch. 

The front door opened and closed again, voices rose up from the entry through the open bedroom door. Aelin began unpacking mechanically. The drawers where she set her clothes were the same as she had for the last decade. The dent on the wall by the left corner was also the same. Seems like Aedion never got around to patching it. Aelin chuckles under her breath, the talking-to she and Rowan had received after denting the wall from a vigorous…activity, would never fail to not make her laugh. 

Once the unpacking was complete, only taking a few moments as Aelin wouldn't be staying longer than the night, she took a moment to sit on her side of the bed and breathe. 

This would be disastrous. And she had no way of getting out. Unless she jumped from the window to her left. 

A decade ago, Aelin and Rowan had met through their friends. Their family. Aedion had bridged the gap by dating her best friend, Lysandra. Their quickly evolving and fiery romance meant that there would no longer be Aelin-Elide-Lys days. Now, they included the Ashryver cousin. Lorcan and Rowan had been over Aedion’s lovesick puppy act and had forcibly inserted themselves into the group. As her cousin rarely left Lysandra's side anymore. 

This meant that Aelin and Elide were left to deal with two grumpy college guys. It was like babysitting rocks, who could probably show more emotion than the lot of them. But somehow, somewhere along the line, Elide fell for Lorcan. And when Aelin was forced to watch another friend fall in love, she turned to the only bastard left. 

But Aelin and Rowan had always been…different. Difficult entirely. It started as sex. Each of them too busy with their respective degrees to foster any more of a connection. 

It worked, and it worked well. 

For two years, Aelin was exclusive with Rowan Whitethorn without anyone knowing the depth of their friendship. To her girlfriends, he was the hot guy whom Aelin should really give a chance. To his boys, she was the girl who could obviously help blow off a little steam. 

Time stretched out, and steadiness had replaced the need for romantic connection. Post graduation, Rowan and her barely crossed paths anymore, unless the entire group got together. But there still existed an attachment built during years of intimacy – which Aelin never voiced, not wanting to ruin the entire affair by breaking the principle rule of their arrangement. And due to that principle, Rowan had also never expressed any interest above surface-level desire. 

She had been left in the dark of his feelings for her, just as she had left him in the dark of hers. They were two polar magnets, separated only by the fear of shattering the fragile closeness built from tentative familiarity. Neither were any good at subtly hinting at something. 

When the parallel lines of their lives crossed, ever-diligent Rowan proposed something rather different. Unpredictable.

He offered a relationship. 

Looking back, it was hilariously clinical. It wouldn't surprise her if he had stored papers in her bag with a list of what their relationship could entail. Numbered – or alphabetically ordered. Probably about who did what and when hand-holding was allowed. Such a stickler for the rules.

But Rowan had shocked Aelin that night. When she had said yes, fuck it let's give it a chance, and they had gone back to his apartment, there was a bouquet of fragrant red roses placed on the counter. A box of her favourite chocolates beside it. Things she had mentioned in passing, probably after a hook-up. Maybe during a romantic comedy that they would often watch together. Where she’d point out the little things men can do that show a deeper appreciation. 

They had cracked open a bottle of wine, and talked for hours under the stars and above the rushing traffic. And it was like peeling back a layer, revealing this steadfast and romantic man. The one who had refiled her glass more than once. Used his hand to cover sharp edges when she leaned around after a few too many drinks. Who had carried her to bed, gently unclasping her stiletto heels and massaging the tired soles of her feet. Who had carefully removed the maxi dress she wore, hanging it up to prevent creases. Then, with permission, undressed her further. 

That night hadn't been like before. Aelin wasn't sure she had ever felt that way. Not a blinding, stretching heat or an all-consuming pressure. No, rather a connection. When Rowan had caressed her like a piece of art, she felt revered. Holy. Her skin had tingled with the unfamiliar feeling of adoration. 

Breathless whispers and tight holds had conveyed words that were far too new to speak aloud. 

That night had been the beginning of a long-standing understanding. The two of them weren't open about their connection. Rather, it was a pleasant slice of life, cut out to fit the shape of two lovers who aimed to navigate the crossroads of their future. And for years they existed peacefully in the space they had made for each other. 

Until they couldn't anymore. 

The door creaked open, its hinges never oiled. Lysandra was allergic to a chemical in WD-40. 

A whoosh of breath came from the entrance, and Aelin’s spine felt the all too familiar tingle of the presence of the man she had loved. 

“Aelin,” came the voice, like gravel smoothed by arctic winds. There always existed some sort of unrest under Rowan’s skin. It could be heard in his voice, worn from use. Had she still been his, she would have made him a cup of tea. Extra honey. As he liked. 

Humming out a noise of acknowledgement, Aelin turned slightly. Cheeks starting to heat. “Hello, Rowan.” She said, breathlessly. 

She watched his throat work. He had gotten leaner since she last saw him. His eyes less bright. Cheeks sunken. His unachievable tan had faded. 

He was still the beautiful boy–man, she had always known. Pleasure and pain united, each moment in his presence stole some of her oxygen. She loved him. Loved. 

A shrill squeak this time, and a crafty brunette head popped into the doorway. “Ah! Okay! Guess, how many candies are in this jar!” Lysandra asked the both of them. Their moment shattering and instead opening up to accept another's presence. Lysandra was holding a large mason jar filled with red and white peppermint swirl candies. 

“Uh,” Rowan scratched the back of his neck. “Two hundred?” Lysandra just snorted and then turned to Aelin. 

Aelin studied the jar, fighting to not break out into goosebumps with the feeling of Rowan’s eyes on her. “One hundred…and… forty-three–no! Twenty!”

“Final answer?” Lysandra taunted. 

“Yes.”

“Wrong.” She cackled. Turning away and hightailing it down the hall, laughing like she was possessed. “Come downstairs, you losers!”

Hour Two

Aelin had left with no word to Rowan. She couldn't bear it. The wound still so fresh. Instead, she had sauntered by and shut the door gently on her way out. Missing the pleading look in his eyes as she walked away. 

“Ae!” Elide shouted at her approach. Aelin couldn't help but smile. As awful as the next eleven hours may be, Aelin was grateful she had her best friends by her side. Lysandra's still on thin ice. 

“El! Look at you!” Aelin grabbed a hold of her friend's hand, letting her do a little twirl. The sequined skirt she had on fanned out around her. Reflecting the lights in the room across the walls. “You like our own little mirrorball.”

Elide just let out a soft laugh. Grinning. “Gotta get the party started somehow.” She said. Stepping back she put her arms on Aelin's elbow, holding tight. She made a show of looking around the room, and upon it being clear, Elide looked her right in the eyes. “I'm sorry.” 

“For what,” Aelin asked, perplexed. 

She gave her a pointed look. “I tried to explain to Lys that she wasn't being fair. It's not fair. I offered to get a hotel room for me and Lorcan, but you know how Aedion is about traditions.” She rolled her eyes. “I realize that this isn't… you know. This was not on the healing plan–”

“Maybe, El, just being with my best friends could be healing. Maybe we switch the healing plan around for a little.” She said softly, speaking from a place of honesty. 

Elide’s eyes were misty, and Aelin had to look away. This was a hurt that was deeper than her. 

She took a breath, “Okay. But–no I'm serious. Don't look away. If you need anything, anything at all, I'm here. And we can have a little girl meeting with Lys after we put the boys to bed.” She gave a choked laugh. 

Aelin nodded. An understanding passing through them both. Everyone knew that tension would be high this evening. Aelin herself knew it would be brutal. Facing her ex at Lys’ annual Yulemas Eve Dinner, a tradition shrouded in love and comfort. But she was eternally grateful for Elide – and Lysandra, but maybe not currently. How she found such caring women would never fail to surprise her. 

Elide nodded back, smile and eyes watery. They both let out laughs. This solidarity was something Aelin needed more than she knew. 

“Okay, no more tears.” Aelin sniffed, disconnecting their hand-elbow position to wipe at her waterline. Elide laughed and did the same; laughing at the growing pains. Embracing and squeezing love into each other. 

Hour Three

They had all moved to the living room. It was three o'clock, and the festivities would run until midnight. 

This tradition of theirs started years ago, when Lysandra had been given this apartment by her uncle, conveniently on Yulemas Eve. As a group of broke college students, they had gotten together at noon at Lys’ new abode, flocking towards the offer of free food and drinks. But, they had spent the next twelve hours renovating, each of them finding different tasks every hour to keep the boredom away. At midnight, the promised food had been delivered and all of them had pigged out and slept on the worn carpet of the living room, full of holiday spirit. 

That tradition continued on, and it proved to be extremely helpful in the days when family ties were harder to save than simply forget. When the lonesomeness of the holidays overtook the youths, twelve hours at Lysandra and Aedion's home would never fail to rekindle that merriment. 

And so, for the past decade, everyone would arrive at noon, and each hour would be filled with something new; usually holiday-themed, but it was truly left to Aelin’s best friend’s imagination. 

So at hour three, the group found themselves in the living room, sipping on sparkling wine and snacking on appetizers. This would – apparently – be the hour of catching up. 

“... And so I told him, if he wanted a maid he could hire one. I mean, the man is rolling in money. What fucking scumbag hires someone, and then lets them play servant for the rest of the office, and then drops all his work on them? I mean, truly.” Elide was saying. Aelin was nodding along, enjoying the fresh gossip about her best friend's workplace. “But then he got all on his high horse, all you can't talk to me like that and I'm your superior, you know. Stupid bullshit.”

“So what did you do?” Lysandra asked, thoroughly enthralled by the story. Lorcan let out a hearty chuckle, his arm slung across Elide lovingly. 

“I fucking stole the glass plate from his microwave. Then took all the ink cartridges from his pens. And all the extra toilet paper in his washroom? Not there anymore!” Aelin snorted out her bubbly wine. Lysandra was racked with giggles, and Lorcan was trying not to laugh out loud. Aedion’s cackle joined the fray. And like she always would, Aelin picked up on Rowan's breathy laugh, it ignited flames through her veins. 

“Oh my gods, El. You absolute heathen,” Aedion got out through fits of laughter. Lysandra attempted deep breaths while wiping stray tears from the corners of her eyes. Aelin stared into her drink, suppressing giggles. 

“Well, it's not like he didn't deserve it,” Elide added, smiling smugly. Lorcan just kissed her temple. 

“Certainly not. Where’d you get those ideas though?” Leaning for a piece of cheese, Aelin asked. Grabbing a few pieces and rolling them around in her palm. Lysandra’s giggles were waving in and out, each time Aedion whispered something in her ear, they’d begin again. 

“My gigantic brain.” Elide snorted, pleased at her joke. 

“Nice, El.” Came from Rowan. 

“See, I thought you'd crucify me for that. Mister straight and narrow.” Oh.

Rowan didn't falter, “No, actually, if anything that gives me ideas.” He said. “Sometimes the corporate world can be a little too uptight.” He glanced at Aelin. 

Aedion laughed again. “Rich! That’s rich coming from you.” He taunted.

Rowan leaned into the jest. “Maybe I want to break free.”

“Uptight life not suiting you anymore, Boyo?” Came from Lorcan. 

“Maybe.” Rowan shrugged. “Maybe life is worth a little more than corporate deviances.” He pulled at the seams of his shirt. Fingers twirling the stem of his sparkling wine. 

Aelin didn't think anyone else had noticed the stall in the conversation. The way the bright energy slowed and sputtered. Pausing momentarily and applying enough pressure to Aelin’s soul that she felt winded. But everyone moved on, Rowan included. Laughing and sharing stories as they might. 

The conversation didn't end, and Aelin’s buried sorrow didn't dissipate. But she would keep breathing. Keep moving forward, exchanging banter all in the hopes of drawing out the sound of her heart breaking slowly. 

“By the way, Lys, how many candies were in the jar?”

“None. It was the paper decoration that it came with from the store.”

Hour Four

It was cocktail hour. 

This was Aelin’s favourite tradition. One she actually prepared for. And it consisted of each of them having to make a holiday-themed cocktail, completely customized. There could be no research during the competition – before was a grey area Aelin loved to exploit – and they each had ten minutes. 

The order would follow; Lorcan, Lysandra, Elide, Aedion, Rowan, Aelin. And so, a silver tray had been placed in the middle of the table, and six yellowy drinks in champagne flutes sat. The colour was truly horrifying. 

“So, explain.” Lysadra motioned to start. 

“Right,” Lorcan grabbed a flute, examining it carefully. Like he didn't even know what was in it himself. “So, this…drink–”

“Sound a little more enthusiastic babe, or I'll be really worried about what you made.” Elide interrupted. 

“I'm already worried,” Rowan whispered to Aedion, face set in a perplexed grimace. 

“Hush, you goons.” He waved at the other guys. They broke apart laughing. “In here there is…Gin, uh, some Limoncello and creme de Banane. And I call it the…uh, I don't know. Yellow shot?”

“...of death,” Aelin whispered to Lysandra. Who nodded solemnly. Elide looked disgusted at her fiance’s creation, but schooled it into a look of pride when he turned to her. The moment he looked away, she made a fake gagging motion to Aelin and Lysandra. 

“Sounds wonderful, my dear Lorcan. Now, my great sir, would you please bring me my beverage.” Aedion declared, hands aiming to move in a dignified manner. He looked like he was trying to swat away flies. 

“No.”

“It was worth a shot,” He sighed, reaching for a drink. 

Aelin grabbed a flute, “Limoncello and Gin, what the hell were you aiming for here Lorcan?” She delicately sniffed at the drink. Oh god.

Plopping himself nearly onto Elide, who let out a squeak, he just shrugged. Grabbing his flute, he threw it back in one fluid motion. Everyone paused, waiting for the reaction. He swallowed, looked around, and then quickly turned away to gag and cough. 

Laughter erupted. 

Once everyone had a glass, clinking them together in cheers, and shot it down like Lorcan. He watched from on the couch, eyes a little watery. There was a pause as everyone swished the drink around in their mouth, tasting the flavour. 

It was fucking godsawful. Aelin had never tasted anything so evil. The hint of banana flavour nearly had her spitting the drink back into the glass, and the way the Gin nearly curdled it was almost worse. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she tried to swallow. Forcing the atrocity that was Lorcan’s drink down. Catching Elide’s eye, as the woman got up and ran for the washroom. Lysandra was the only one who seemed unbothered. 

“Fuck!” Aedion shouted when he could speak again. “Holy gods man, I have never put anything worse into my mouth. Ever.” 

“And that's saying somethin',” Rowan choked out. Also beyond bothered by Lorcan’s monstrosity. 

“You evil, evil man,” Aelin added. A shudder racking her body.

-

The cocktail hour carried on. Lysandra had made a mojito with cinnamon rather than mint, and it was not nearly as bad as Lorcan’s. Elide had done a ‘Sunrise Suprise’, which was simply tequila and orange juice. The ability to make a good cocktail skipped both Elide and Lorcan. Aedion had wanted to send everyone to their death, combining four different whiskeys and a melted spoonful of ice cream. It hadn't been as bad as expected, but there were much better choices out there. Rowan had mixed pickle juice and vodka, to create a dill martini. Interestingly enough, that had been the most palatable drink of the night. 

When Aelin’s turn came around, she began to pull out the individual ingredients. Lining them up in the order in which she would mix. Her focus on the drinks made her unaware that another body was present in the kitchen. Until they spoke up. 

“You look well,” Rowan said from the opposite end of the room, his body leaning up against the cabinets. Jumping at the sudden sound of his voice, her head snapped up. There he was, cataloguing her every move, a familiar feeling; his eyes on her. 

Startled, she stared at him. And kept staring at him, not realizing she had been ogling him for a few moments. She took in the lines of his body, the way his dress pants hugged his legs. The black leather belt, cinching in his waist. The sweater – cashmere, most likely – was elegantly draped over his upper body. The hard planes of his stomach were slightly in sight as the soft material moulded to his form. Everything about Rowan meant something. And looking at him only brought back bitter-sweet memories. Her gaze snapped away when he gave a light noise of acknowledgement. 

Blushing and caught, Aelin turned back to the drinks, cracking open the bottle of vodka she had slipped mint candies in a few weeks ago. She planned to let the flavours permeate the liquor and add a nice flair to her drinks. She felt Rowan’s inquisitive eyes on her every move. 

“Thank you, Rowan.” Acknowledging him, she hoped he would just walk away. She wasn't strong enough to just stand here and allow him to be there. To feel the gaping divide between their beings. 

Silence. 

“I– Look, I need to talk to you Aelin,” He approached from the other side of the room, slipping around the counter where she was. “I know it’s not the best–”

“Rowan.” A firm command, all blushed drained. She could be strong. She could. She was back to looking at him again. Green eyes, full lips, strong jaw. The silver strands that ghosted his brow. Gods she hated how looking at him hurt her so deeply. His smile, and laughter, earlier had been the knife to the gut. His presence here now? A twisting. 

“No, Aelin. I'm serious.”

“I am too.” 

“Wait.” He breathed. Gentler this time. His hand stretched out, muscle memory. She knew it would land at the curve of her waist, how the weight of it would ground her. The warmth would slip under the fabric of her dress, warming her bones. 

He retracted it before it got close enough, burning the neuron pathway that made the movement instinctual. 

She steadied herself, leaning towards him slightly, but not enough to communicate any more interest in where this was going. “Not now, Rowan. Not now. You had your chance, let me be.” 

“What chance? The fucking run-in at a cafe? That was not a ‘chance’ Aelin.” He snapped. Letting his frustration run into his tone. She hated him when he was like this. Not frustrated, no she understood that. But…seeking. She knew what he wanted, and she knew it would break her down quicker than she could turn away. Her sanity rested on the finalization of this conversation. 

Smiling politely, in a way she knew brought more frustration, she turned away and began preparing the drink. 

“Not now,” She whispered. More to herself, a silent prayer of resistance. She heard more than saw Rowan turn to walk away, over the entire conversation entirely. He missed the tear that raced down her cheek, or the hitch in her breath when the door swung close. 

-

“Peppermint Cocktails!” Aelin announced, waltzing into the room with her usual charm, all emotions wiped. She avoided Rowan’s look like the plague. Offering a drink to each friend, she was pleased to hear that her concoction was the best of the night – an unsurprising win – and the group sat around talking still. The light buzz from all the alcohol had Aelin feeling looser. The unease from moments ago slipped away like sand between her fingers. 

“I saw Rowan walk into the kitchen,” Elide whispered into her ear. Everyone else had been looking at a picture on Lorcan's phone. 

“Mhm.” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“No.”

Hour Five

Rowan likes the cold. 

He liked it in a way many others didn't. He liked the way it nipped at his body slowly in the beginning, a feeling that was urgently chased away by shivers. He liked it when it froze deeper. When it slowly crawled into the heat of his body, dousing it and cutting off feeling. He liked the stiffness. The slowed movement as the cold reached his core, seizing feeling. It isolated him in a way many things did not. 

Sitting on the front porch of Lysandra’s apartment, he embraced the cold. 

Everyone had just finished up with a game of cards, and Aedion had rushed out, forgetting some ingredients for dinner. He had excused himself, just need a moment, and walked all of three steps before stopping. Allowing his body to freeze, his cashmere sweater not saving much heat. 

As he lost feeling of some body parts, he embraced the thoughts rushing through his mind, all seemingly racing in circles around the fiery blonde. The one whose embers never burnt out, but now seemed to be slowly dying. The consistent crackle and warmth of her presence, all leaking away in a manner he knew he was responsible for. 

The cold he had embraced wholeheartedly was killing his fireheart. 

His thoughts spun like the twirling snowflakes as they fell to the ground. Circling gently, melting away. But all things seemed to lead him back to his bedroom. To the moment this morning, before he had slipped away into the cab to make it here tonight. His thoughts brought him to the second drawer in his nightstand, underneath a notepad and tissues. In an embroidered box, sat a diamond ring, inlaid into a gold band that had sweeping leaf designs along its curves. Two emeralds set into the inside, to rub against one's finger. 

All thoughts seemed to lead him back to Aelin

Hour Six, Hour Seven, Hour Eight

“Can you pass me the salt?” Lysandra called from Aelin's right. She was before the stove, stirring the gravy and watching the vegetables as they cooked in the pan. 

Handing her the salt, Aelin brushed by her to grab some butter from the fridge. Needing it for the bread that would be coming out of the oven soon, steaming hot. 

They worked in a comfortable silence, only waiting for Aedion to return with some forgotten ingredients. Lorcan, Elide, and Rowan were all in the living room, having not been drawn for cooking duty this year. A method that was quickly taken up once the group realized six people in the kitchen was less of a pleasant experience. Top many bossy chefs. 

Post-cocktail hour, tipsy cards had commenced. And the many, many, shots of straight liquor had reached Aelin by that time. She was feeling much better, her heart no longer aching and screaming at her mind to just look at the man across from her. Rather, she had enthusiastically played cards. Letting the feeling of her family around her and the laughter that kept escaping cocoon her. Unfortunately, that joy had meant that Lorcan had swept everyone off their asses, wiping the board clean and winning the one hundred and twenty dollars put into the pot. That had sobered her up pretty quickly, arguing that he had cheated. He had just smirked. 

Then when Aedion rushed out, Aelin caught sight of Rowan walking out the front door too. She had been standing at the other end of the hallway, out of his view. She had watched his expression fall as soon as he crossed the threshold. It was like night and day, the crinkle around his eyes and the brightness of his smile, wiped away. He just stepped out, closing the door softly behind him. 

She had waited a moment, arguing mentally if she should go after him, until Lysandra had called, telling Aelin she needed her help. 

She wasn't ready to face him alone.

“Aelin,” A soft hand was at Aelin's wrist, pausing her chopping of vegetables. She glanced up, shocked out of her reverie. Lysandra was staring at her, looking deeply into her, her brows pulled together in confusion. She must've been calling me for a minute. When it seemed Lysandra had the other woman’s attention, she added softly, “I couldn't not invite one of you.” 

Dropping the knife, “Lys.” Aelin pleaded, not wanting to have this conversation. It felt like the entire night had been her running in circles around her and Rowan. Her and Rowan. Rowan and I. “Seriously, I can't do more of this.” 

Lysandra paid no mind to Aelin’s plea, pushing forward. “Listen. I love you deeply, very very deeply. Sometimes I wonder why,” at that, Aelin cracked a mirthful smile. “But I see the way you two look at each other. And while I know it's not my business, I think this is something you two seriously need to talk out.” She said solemnly. 

This was the point she'd been dancing around for such a long time. 

Pushing the cutting board away from her, Aelin slumped into her arms, leaning against the counter. 

“Did I make a mistake? Breaking up with him?” Like a breath after being underwater, Aelin let it out, asking the question that had rattled in the back of her mind for months. Breathing in a little deeper when some new space opened up because of it. 

“I have my own opinions, but whether or not you made a mistake is up to you.” Lysandra was soothingly rubbing her back. 

“Some days it feels like the biggest fucking mistake I've ever made, Lys. Some days it hurts so much I can't even get out of bed.” 

She hummed, letting Aelin speak. 

“I just– it felt right at the time. But it doesn't feel right now. How is that fair? How could I have made a decision like that? What would have happened if I stayed?”

“You wouldn't have done well, Ae. We all saw what was happening.”

“But you can't know that.” She whispered out. 

“I can, and I did. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is let go. And that's what you did, my love. Maybe something could have gotten better, but maybe not.” Lysandra took a deep breath. “I'm proud of you regardless, that's not an easy choice to make.”

“And it clearly wasn't the fucking right one.” 

Lysandra's hand stopped, she grabbed onto Aelin's shoulder, squeezing firmly. 

“You can say that all you want, Aelin, but ultimately it was the right choice for you at the time. You blossomed. But now? Maybe it's different. And maybe every time I see you two lovesick fools in the same room, I am simultaneously sick and overjoyed. I see his face when he looks at you Ae, like you hung the stars.”

“What's this? Therapy hour?” A loud voice broke apart their moment, jerking both women out of their moment. It was Aedion with the groceries. He was smiling widely, but it fell when he took in the expression of the other women. “Oh. Shit, sorry.”

Aelin just groaned. “And look at me now, ruining the festivities.” Watching Aedion's smile drop was just a reminder of the emotional burden she forgot to check at the door. Bringing that cloud of gloom inside. It was not fair to everyone else, they didn't deserve to bear witness to the sorrow leaking from her. 

“You're not ruining anything, Aelin. Aedion, stop being an idiot.” Lysandra amended. 

Aedion, clearly understanding the situation now, came over to drop the groceries on the counter and pull his cousin into a tight hug. “Lys is right. You have nothing to be sorry for. We all love you lots and want to see you happy, and if drinking shitty cocktails and spilling your gossip helps you feel better, I'll gladly do it alongside you.” He kissed her temple. 

Aelin wanted to break down. This was not how she expected to spend this evening. Granted, she has predicted being in the same vicinity as Rowan would test her. Bring those choked feelings up to the surface. It would hurt just as it had when they split, as there was truly no way to prepare for seeing him again after months of no contact. Months of isolation and heartache. Months without the half that made her whole. 

“Lys, baby, is the gravy supposed to bubble like that?”

“Shit!” Exclaiming, Lysandra rushed away from Aelin's side to check on her portion of dinner. Leaving Aelin, still bent over the counter, staring at the herbs she’d have to chop to sprinkle over the potatoes. 

She felt a gentle shoulder push against her side, and then her cousin was beside her, close enough she could feel the warmth radiating off his huge form. “Your parents would be so proud of you, Ae. No matter what. And I think you should do what you feel is best. Even if that's walking away. I love you, we love you.” Mumbling into her ears, lower than anyone else could hear. Aelin nodded, brushing the moisture away from her face. 

“I love you too, Aedion.”

-

“Cheers to this year!”

Glasses chimed as they clinked together, bubbly wine spilling over, onto the feast laid up on the table. Decadent smells wafted up, making Aelin's stomach rumble. She was ready to dig into the spread, and let the food smother the churning anxiety in her stomach. 

She was seated next to Elide, and Aedion on her other side. Everyone else was spread around the round table – Lysandra hated the idea of a square table. Not wanting any fighting over the head of it. 

Aelin had spoken to Lysandra and Aedion for a few minutes more, opening up a little about how she had been feeling. It took some pushing, given her displeasure at possibly ruining everyone's evening with her issues, but the couple had assured her that it wasn't possible. Highly doubtful of that. But it had been…cathartic, to really speak about how she had felt. How she was dealing with her wounded heart. It meant more than Aelin would realize at the moment, for the two of them to give her a little perspective. 

Then, once the timer for the roast had gone off, and the main part of dinner had been pulled out of the oven, it was dressed up in the herbs Aelin had finally finished chopping – after getting a few more hugs in from both Lys and Aedion. Lys and her had started dishing up the plates and Aedion set off to cut some of the roast. Lorcan and Rowan had joined to set the table. And Elide had popped some bottles of prosecco, pouring glasses for everyone. 

Seated now, in front of a plate of aromatic food, a balm for the soul, she felt the urge to voice her appreciation. “So,” she started, drawing attention from everyone, especially Rowan. “I- I wanted to say thank you. To all of you. I think… that because of the lives we live today, I really don't have the opportunity to look at all of you and say that. To be able to sit around with each of you means more than anything, and I can't imagine being anywhere else right now. It wouldn't feel right.” 

“Cheers to that,” Lorcan added, a slight smile aimed in Aelin’s direction. If that wasn't the definition of a Yulemas miracle, she didn't know what else could be.

Glancing around the table, the circle of the most important people in her life, her eyes stalled upon Rowan. She meant what she said, meant every piece of it. She loved all of them. Grumpy Lorcan, meddling Lysandra. But gods, she loved Rowan, and she lied to herself every day when he was no longer a warm presence next to her. His side of the bed uncharacteristically cold. The feeling of it cooling her. 

She hadn't noticed the change in the environment, her focus being locked on Rowan. Their eyes connected, as if reading each other's minds. A choked wheezing noise almost drew her away, but she couldn't. Not when she was swimming in him, not when–

SLAM

“Elide!” A shrill scream. Ripping Aelin away, she was met with a panicked Lysandra, and a horrified Lorcan. 

Elide was facedown on the table, and amid chaos, Aelin noticed her chest was not rising and falling as it should. Shouts ensued, voices yelling about get her up and call an ambulance. What had happened in the seconds Aelin wasn't present. How could this have happened that quickly? What was happening! 

“She can't breathe!”

“Start CPR. Now!”

“Has someone called an ambulance?” 

What is going on!

Lorcan had gently laid Elide on the floor. He had his finger down her throat. His face was panicked, but he was hiding it well, focusing on Elide. Chairs were shoved back, and Lysandra was rushing away, Aedion was on the phone, Rowan was getting on his knees by Elide. They were saying something to each other. Rowan pushed Lorcan away. Lorcan fought back before he realized what was happening. Rowan placed his hands by Elide’s middle, his fingers laced together. She looked so frail there, on the floor. 

Rowan started pushing down, one two three four. One two three four. Onetwothreefouronetwothreefour– What is happening!

Aelin was frozen. Frozen in fear, in disbelief, in shock. How. That's all that was going through her mind. How. It had been going so well, how could one moment lead to this? To Elide, down on the floor, not breathing as her fiance shouted panic commands at Rowan. Equally freaked out. To Aedion, shouting instructions from paramedics. Two minutes away! To Lysandra, distraught, not knowing what to do. To Aelin, standing as her best friend couldn't breathe. 

Lorcan leaned down, his ear by Elide's mouth. His hand on her neck, searching. Rowan paused, breathing heavily. 

Aelin thought she knew what it was to feel her heartbreak, to feel it shatter. But she had never felt it as it fell. Dropped straight out of her chest when Lorcan looked up, eyes wide as saucers, pupils fully dilated. As he looked at Rowan and a lone tear slipped from his eye, dropping down, down, down. Down to where Elide was not breathing. 

Hour …

Seated in the emergency ward of the local hospital, Aelin listened to a dull Lorcan list off what had happened. She had choked. She had something lodged in her throat for so long that she passed out. It got lodged deeper. She has two broken ribs. It's not your fault Rowan. You saved her life. She had an endoscopic surgery. To remove the food. She’ll need to stay for the night. Observation. 

Struck by disbelief, Aelin couldn't do anything more than trace the lines on the floor. Her hands shook, a later symptom of the shock that had paralyzed Aelin in the moment of action. As Elide was carried out to the ambulance –still not breathing – she had only stood there. Rooted to place. Snapping out of it only when Rowan said he was going to follow them to the hospital. Aelin hadn't even said anything, snapping out of her state and running to the door to grab her boots and jump into whatever car Rowan would be taking. 

Only she and Rowan were at the hospital, alongside Lorcan. Aedion had made the executive decision for Lys and him to stay back. Lys had been hysterical, shouting, but shaking just as Aelin was now. She hadn't thought of them once, only what might happen to Elide. To her lovely Elide. 

“But she’ll be okay?” Rowan whispered. Agony weaved into his question. He felt guilty, this Aelin knew. Even if he had saved a life, he felt guilty he had hurt someone. She could scream. 

Aelin didn't hear an answer, assuming that Lorcan had nodded when Rowan let out a great sigh. Cut short by the sob that burst out. Lorcan was there in an instant, wrapping his brother up in a tight hug. She palmed her thighs, squeezing so tightly. 

Eventually, Lorcan released Rowan. The both of them were slightly breathless. Eyes red and sad. Lorcan said he was going to check on Elide, and Rowan sat down next to her. For a few quiet moments, no words were exchanged. A too-real grief hung heavy in the air. They almost lost someone, and now here they were, waiting for Elide to be here again. Because she almost wasn't. She was so close to not being here anymore. 

Standing up abruptly, “I- I have to go.” Aelin walked off, not waiting for an answer from Rowan. She was walking quickly through the halls, adrenaline coursing through her so quickly she could barely breathe. And then her breath was coming too quickly. And then she was running, running for the exit. And in her haste, she didn't hear the other feet running after her. 

All she could hear was her breath. Elide’s lack of. 

She slammed through the front doors, flat-out sprinting now. She had no idea where to go, and it was snowing hard. The wind whipped at her dress-clad form – she hadn't grabbed her jacket. But she kept running. Tripping up on ice, pelted by the rising blizzard. She had no idea where she was, but the blood rushing in her ears, and her hyperventilating had her in a dizzying state. 

“AELIN!” A voice roared. She couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, completely surrounded by falling snow, as it blocked out the light. Spinning wildly, she could feel the tears as they rushed down her face, freezing on her cheeks. 

She was panting, barely in control, when Rowan came from her side, nearly slamming into her and knocking them both over. He was breathing heavily too. His hair was out of place and his eyes were wild. 

“What were you thinking!” He yelled, grabbing onto her. “You can't fucking run like that! Aelin! What the fuck!” His tone kept increasing. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Unlike Elide. No movement, no breaths. No breaths, no breath, not breathi- 

“Aelin! AELIN! Look at me!” 

Her eyes were wild, nails pressing into Rowan’s biceps as she held onto him for dear life. Where was she, where was she, wherewasshe…

A chilled hand grabbed her chin, pulling her – not roughly – to look into Rowan’s frantic gaze. Her breathing wasn't slowing, and Rowan’s gaze was unbreakable. He was whispering something, his lips moving. Aelin watched as they moved, shifting up, down. The corners of his mouth pinching. Another hand came up, and her face was now being cradled between Rowan’s large hands. And she saw his lips still moving, and then the crease in his brow, the worry dancing in his eyes. And then she was pressed against his warm chest. 

Her head was against his heart. The thump-thump a grounding. She felt her breathing start to ease, felt arms tighten around her. Felt as she leaned further into Rowan. The tears falling faster now, but her breaths slowing enough that her brain could finally catch up. To where she was. Where she was, here in Rowan’s arms. In Rowan’s ar–

“No!’ She shouted shoving away from him, breaking the cage that was his grasp. “No! No, no, no!” 

Rowan just let his arms drop, hanging by his sides. His expression was one of worry, and confusion. Frustration and dismay. “What?” He said. His voice carried through the snowstorm. 

“Dont– Dont do that!” Aelin sobbed out, hands going to her hair. Pulling at the roots and turning around aimlessly. 

“Do what.” His hands clenched. His worry wiped away, a vexed expression appearing instead. 

“Do that! Care for me! Stop!” She kept shouting, the snow thoroughly soaking her now. The chill seeping into her bones.

“Care for you? What?” He shouted back. “What the fuck do you mean Aelin!”

“I mean, don't come r-rushing after me! Don't fucking p-pretend you care!” 

“Pretend I care?!” He took a step forward, she took one back. An undecipherable look crossed his face, before it was set back into a frown. His shoulders lined with tension, and fists opening and closing around nothing. “Aelin, what do you mean?”

“You don't care. S-so don't c-come running after m-me like you do!” The chills were shaking her body now, and she wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as possible, trying to keep in body heat. The storm was getting worse. Rowan’s image was getting blurrier, maybe it was her tears, still flowing freely. Along with her nose. 

“What… Aelin– I,” His hand went to his hair, raking through the soaked strands before pulling. “I chased after you because you fucking ran away hyperventilating! Out of a hospital! Into a fucking blizzard! What do you think I’d do? Sit there like an idiot and let you freeze to death or get hit by a car?!” 

“It doesn-”

“Yes it does! Yes, it fucking does!”

“Why!” She screamed, shaking and watching as Rowan stepped forward. This time she didn't step back. 

“Aelin.” He said, this time it was more of a command, a telling. “Are you asking me why I’d come for you?”

She considered it for a second, then nodded. 

A moment passed before Rowan's face morphed into one of genuine pain. 

“Because I would always fucking follow you! And I would always make sure you are okay, no matter what.” He snapped. “And I'm sorry I can't turn my feelings off as easily as you, but watching you walk away, no matter what, it fucking kills me!” 

There was a pause as the words sunk in, as Rowan’s chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, as his eyes traced her face for any hint – of anything. 

“You what?” Aelin squeaked out. Not knowing if the question was swallowed up by the storm until Rowan took a tentative step forward. Then another, then they were just a few breaths apart. 

“I would always follow you, Aelin,” He whispered, face drawn in sorrow. Her cheeks hurt from the frozen tears, but they warmed at his confession. “Because… because I still love you. Still so, so much. Ae, it hurts.” 

“What,” She said, more to herself. But Rowan's face crumpled, and she felt the fall directly in her heart. 

“Aelin,” He whispered, reaching for her hand that was tucked under her exposed bicep. Slowly freezing. She let him grab the hand, warming it between his palms, and then pulling her forward to place it on his heart. “I have missed you every day, and I- I couldn't do anything about it, ‘cause I fucked it up in the first place. I made you have to leave. And so I watched you walk away. I let you,” He took a deep breath. “I never wanted that to happen. Ever. But I did, and… gods Aelin, I’ve never regretted something more in my life.”

She just looked up at him. Not really believing the words she was hearing, because how could this be possible? 

“Rowan…” Her lips were turning blue, and she could barely feel her legs. She was going to freeze out here, in the midst of a blizzard, as she heard her ex-boyfriend tell her how he messed up, how he missed her. 

A tear fell on his face, and she watched it trail down. “I love you, Fireheart. I still love you. I am in love with you.” He shook his head, his hair had froze. “I'm sorry.”

“Rowan, I t-thought you wanted m-me gone. I thought it w-wasnt working.” Her teeth were clacking together so hard, she could barely get the words out. That and the weird feeling erupting from inside her. 

“I never wanted you gone, Ae. I was just so… I didn't realize what I had– what we had.” 

“And now y-you do?” She mumbled, her feelings dancing on the edge of a knife. 

His pine-green eyes scanned her face so quickly, moving over every feature. As if he was re-memorizing them all. She watched his throat work.

“Ae… I don’t know how to– I,” He closed his eyes. 

Aelin took in her hand on his chest, the tear tracks along his beautiful face. The soaked sweater. Her frozen body, and she took a chance, stepping forward, pressing up. 

Rowan must have sensed a change, because his eyes snapped open, searching, before finding Aelin closer than she had been in months. 

“Rowan…” She breathed, “I love you so godsdamned much.” She slung her arms around his neck, and pressed a cold kiss onto his stunned lips. He didn't react for a second, and she almost darted away, before she was pulled back. 

Her lips crashed back into Rowan, into a fiery and all-consuming kiss that warmed her from head to toe. Rowan's hands moved all over, making purchase along her frozen body. Never settling, like he didn't realize she was real. 

There, in the middle of a raging blizzard, Aelin got back what she had been searching for. Her other half. The man who was only everything to her, all along, and forever. 

-

Once Rowan had realized that Aelin might actually contract hypothermia, he had rushed her back to the hospital, where she was treated for minor frostbite, and then released soon after. The pair had visited a sleeping Elide and tired Lorcan, before heading back to the house to update Lysandra and Aedion. Once they had gotten past them, Rowan had gone up to their room to run a bath for Aelin. 

Lysandra had told Aelin she could take Lorcan and Elide’s room – given that they wouldn't be home that night – and when she had objected, saying she preferred her room, Aedion and Lysandra had looked at each other questioningly. But they let her go without a fuss, Lysandra already planning to get this information out of the woman. 

Aelin had paid them no heed, moving lethargically upstairs, where she found Rowan sprinkling some of the petals from the rose into the bath. 

She had kissed him, and then gotten distracted kissing him, before timidly inviting him into the bath as well. He agreed, and the two of them spent a gentle moment together, not initiating anything further, but Aelin sunk into the feeling of Rowan, of having him back in her life, in her heart. 

When they had both pruned up, Rowan hopped out and brought the towels over, drying the both of them off. Running on the dregs of her earlier adrenaline rush, Aelin leaned heavily into Rowan as he got her ready for bed. The soft moment bringing her back to where she felt safe, where she knew she belonged. And when Rowan picked her up bridal style, gently laying her on her side of the bed, tucking her in and then crawling in behind her, she knew she was home. 

“I love you, Rowan.”

“I love you, Aelin.”

Hours Later

That morning, when they went as a group to visit Elide and Lorcan in the hospital, carrying some gingerbread cookies, flowers and a present for Elide, they found the couple asleep together in bed. Lorcan's large body curled protectively around Elide, his great arms placed with a delicateness reserved only for the woman he loved. They had tried to backtrack – let them sleep – only for Elide to snap at them. Telling them to get their asses back in the room because she wants to spend Yulemas morning with her family. 

Aelin could have cried happy tears, and she had. Rushing forward to hug Elide. Careful of her ribs, and the giant man behind her. She had cried into her arms. Mumbling incoherent words into the woman's skin. And soon she was joined by Lysandra, who was equally as teary. Lorcan had mumbled something about wanting to spend the morning with his fiance and had slipped off the bed with a groan, headed elsewhere. His spot was quickly replaced by the two other women. All of them snuggling up together. Rowan had snapped a quick photo. 

Aedion and Rowan pulled up chairs, and Rowan grabbed an extra for Lorcan when he returned. Chattering happily, Elide was in the center of her family. And even if she had been in pain, had almost died, she was forgetting about it instantly with their arrival. And she sat with them for the entire morning, basking in the love so freely available. 

And when it was time for them to leave, she didn't miss the way Rowan folded his arms around Aelin, and the beaming smile she reserved for him. The way their hands snaked together when they thought no one was looking. And the kiss Rowan dropped onto Aelin's brow as they walked off, away. Intertwined again.

Taglist: @backtobl4ck // @goddess-aelin

Thank you for reading!! Happy holidays to you all :))))

[bbsmuts]

What are some songs that make you really nostalgic?

Well, I could go on for a long time with this, so get ready for some serious yapping.

Don't You Worry Child - Swedish House Mafia This came out when I was 21, and I used to listen to this ALL THE TIME. I'm talking maybe 10 times a day, for a few months. It's associated with a lot of good times in my life.

I NEED U - BTS This was more recent, I was 24 when it came out, but not only is it one I also associate with good times, the sad side of it is amplified by the death of my great aunt about two weeks afterwards. I'm not a very emotional guy at all, but to this day the original video can make me sob like a little kid.

Dancing With a Stranger - Sam Smith & Normani Ah, 2020. A year like no other. Covid spread to Korea pretty quick, so it was here when this song was released. Whole cities were locked down, including mine, so I would throw this banger on at least once or twice again. It does make me nostalgic, but let's be honest, who actually misses 2020?

TASTE - Stray Kids PLEASE, this song is SO DAMN GOOD This was much more recent, and it was released right after I turned 32. It reminds me of life back in Gwangju. Also the production on it is top notch, it's a fantastic song.

LA DI DA - EVERGLOW Ah yes, another 2020 song. Unfortunately, lockdown restrictions didn't relax majorly until 2022, so I had plenty of time to listen to this and its album counterparts in my spare time. Also, Yuehua, WHERE'S OUR FULL LENGTH ALBUM FROM EVERGLOW FOR GOD'S SAKE

The whole album of Return of the Girl - EVERGLOW December 2021. Still on lockdown. Thanks, China. All jokes aside, this was the closest thing we've gotten to a full length album and in my opinion one of the better ones, and brings back plenty of memories from Christmas 2021 with my entire extended family in America. I'll add that trying to leave South Korea during 2021 lockdown was an excruciatingly drawn out process. Thanks, China.

Sit Next to Me - Foster the People A true classic. When I used to visit my brother at his apartment (across half the goddamn country), they would always have this on in the pool hall. Good times.

Immortals - Fall Out Boy Of course, we all remember this song from Big Hero 6, but I can proudly say I was here for this song before then, which was only a month before the movie. Regardless, it's a great song and brings back those memories from being 24.

Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen Moving back a good while before I was around, this song was incredible. I heard it all the time growing up.

Burning Love - Elvis Presley Moving back even further, this is probably my favorite Elvis song. As mentioned in a previous post, my dad was a pretty big Elvis fan, so I grew up hearing his music.

Sweet Home Alabama - Lynyrd Skynyrd Ignoring all the memes, it's a great song and one of my favorite rock songs. Alabama accents kill me bro 🤣

Slow Dancing In a Burning Room - John Mayer This song is AMAZING dude

Scarborough Fair/Canticle - Simon & Garfunkel Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Levanter - Stray Kids Incredible song, and also reminds me of Gwangju.

Bad Boys - Theme from the show "Cops" I watched this show a lot back in the 90s and early 2000s, and because of that I worked as an officer for a few years before turning my career path elsewhere.

Sultans of Swing - Dire Straits My dad used to listen to this all the time when I was growing up, so it brings back some memories.

I'm going to leave it here. Some of these I put in here make me feel so old 😭

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 8: Crash And Burn]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, actual sex (18+ readers only), near-death experiences, health crises, hospitals, questionable tattoos, trout with Trent.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​​​@elsolario​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​ @joliettes​ @trifoliumviridi​ @bornbetter​ @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ @courtenbae​ @tempt-ress​ @padfooteyes​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ 

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

“He broke up with me.” Kimmie hasn’t taken a single sip of her Miller Lite. She’s staring right past you and Heather, her eyes glassy puddles shimmering with reflections of multicolored Christmas lights. It’s Monday, December 13th, and Dale’s stereo is playing Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas. You’re in the usual booth and waiting for the boys to get off work. Outside the frosted windows is an ocean of darkness punctuated by narrow aisles of murky streetlight luminescence. “He actually broke up with me.”

Heather snaps her fingers in front of Kimmie’s face. “Uh, Kimmie, Earth to Kimmie, yeah, can you give us a little more exposition, please? When exactly did this happen?”

“Yesterday,” Kimmie says, slightly more present now. “He’d been weird since the hike, super depressed, super boring…he wasn’t even interested in doggie style, and he loves doggie style!”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” Heather pleads.

“So he called me to come over last night and I went to see him and he was…like…sitting on his couch with his hands folded in his lap like it was a freaking job interview. And he explained that he thought I was totally great and that we’d had a lot of fun together but now he had to break things off for personal reasons.”

“Wow, personal reasons, wow,” Heather muses. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but she does kick your boot under the table. You pretend not to notice.

“Wow,” Joyce echoes wryly, flipping a page in her current fantasy novel. There’s some stately prince on the front cover: crown, sword, shield, long flowing hair like a river of white gold.

“I don’t even care that much,” Kimmie realizes as she’s saying it. “I mean, it was nearing its expiration date anyway. I’m going to get back together with Brad, Aegon’s going to presumably resume sleeping his way through Juneau…or maybe try out taking a vow of celibacy, who knows, he’s been very monkish the past few days. He can be fun sometimes, and I like him, and I wish him all the best, but there’s no future for us. I just realized that he’s the first guy who ever broke up with me instead of the other way around. It feels…not great!”

“Congratulations, you’re a mortal,” Joyce says, not looking up from her book.

“So you wouldn’t care if Aegon got with someone else?” Heather asks Kimmie innocently. This time, you kick Heather. She winces but bites back a hiss of pain.

Kimmie considers this, finally taking a swig of her I’m-a-cool-girl-who-likes-hockey-and-trucks beer. “No, probably not.”

I won’t do it, you vow to yourself with false stoicism, imagined iron you wish you were really made of. I won’t date him, I won’t sleep with him, I won’t fall in love with him. And yet part of you already knows it’s too late. Part of you knows this as if it’s been inked to your skin like the scrawled, secret entries of a journal.

Ursa Minor’s front door bangs open, and what you see when you turn to look doesn’t make any sense. Rob and Trent—both dripping wet, their hair plastered flat to their heads, their boots squeaking on the hardwood floor—rush inside. There are shouts and gasps and people leaping up out of their seats to get a better look. Trent is carrying something over one of his lumberjack-broad shoulders. He kneels to throw it down onto the floor. It’s Aegon: limp, bluish, unconscious.

“Someone call somebody!” Trent bellows. He’s staring down at Aegon in panic, in terror, not knowing what to do. Beads of water run down his face. “An ambulance or 911 or a helicopter…or…or somebody!”

“Got it!” Dale says, darting for the phone behind the bar. Kimmie is shrieking. Joyce is trying to calm her down. And by then, you’re on the floor beside Aegon feeling for a pulse on his carotid. He doesn’t have one. He’s cold and he’s silent and he’s medically dead.

“He fell,” Trent says franticly, helplessly. “We were bringing the boat into the harbor and he got tangled in a net and fell overboard. I pulled him out, but he was underwater for a while and we couldn’t…we couldn’t wake him up…”

“Aegon?!” you scream, shaking him, slapping him across his icy, vacant face. “Aegon, wake up, wake up, please wake up!”

Heather is next to you. “What can I do?”

“Help me get his wet clothes off. Hypothermia.”

She yanks at his boots, his socks, his jeans. “You know how to do CPR, right?”

“Yeah, on a dog!” Still, you have to try. How long can he go without a pulse until he’s braindead? Four minutes? Five? The cold might buy him extra time, but not much. Minutes. You rip off his red flannel shirt; buttons go careening across the wet floor. As you place your palms over his heart, you notice—fleetingly, dazedly, like sloshing through a dream—that he has a scattering of scars on his chest, gashes and punctures and knicks…and two tattoos. There is a dragon spiraled around his right collarbone. Just below his left, there are three words written in light, graceful cursive: I’m a killer.

You start chest compressions. How many am I supposed to do on a human? Ten? Twenty? You can’t remember. You’re sobbing; you aren’t sure when that started, but it’s in full force now. Heather mops the tears from your face with her sleeve so you can see.

He’s going to die, you think. He’s going to die lying on the floor of this bar in his boxers, and he will never tell me anything again, and he will never see his family again, and he will never get better. The channel killed Jesse and now it’s killed Aegon too.

“Is he dead?!” Kimmie yelps from across the room. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”

Heather hurls back: “You’re going to be dead if you don’t shut up! Let her work on him!”

You tilt Aegon’s head back, lift his chin, pinch his nose shut. Then you exhale into him. You can taste the dark ancient salt of the sea on his cold lips…but beneath that there is rum as well. He shouldn’t have been drinking that much at work. He doesn’t usually. What’s different? What’s been bothering him? But you think you know the answer to that.

There’s nothing, nothing, nothing…and then Aegon’s chest rises and he rolls onto his side, choking out torrents of seawater and gasping for air. People are cheering and chattering, but you barely hear them.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, and if you were sobbing before now you’re properly bawling, breathless and hysterical. It’s uncontrollable, you can’t seem to stop. You cling to Aegon as he shivers violently and peers around with half-open, profoundly confused blue eyes, warming him with your own body heat, turning his flesh from blue to white to pink.

“Go get coats and stuff to warm him up,” Heather says to Trent, shoving him away. And you do actually need coats…but also, you think, Heather is trying to get rid of her brother. Because it should be obvious to anyone what’s going on here; it should be obvious to anyone that you’re in love with this white-blond man on the floor who not so very long ago was a stranger.

“Hey, hey,” Aegon rasps, pawing clumsily at your face as if to comfort you, almost poking your eyes out in the process. And then he asks, with genuine confusion: “What the hell are you crying about?”

You start laughing, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “You, idiot. I’m crying about you.”

“I’m fine, Appletini,” he croaks. “Shh. Shh. Stop. No crying.”

“I thought you were dead, I thought…I thought…”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Aegon says, his eyes dipping shut. Outside in the blackness somewhere, there are sirens whirling. Trent returns with an armful of coats and together you pile them on top of Aegon, burying him in a tomb of L.L.Bean and Patagonia and The North Face. “Trust me. I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Obviously, the hospital won’t let Aegon have rum and Cokes. He pushes his morphine button almost constantly, even though the doctors and nurses tell him he’s already maxed out. They began by keeping Aegon overnight for observation, and then he developed pneumonia, and then the first type of antibiotics didn’t work and they had to play roulette until they found one that did. Now it’s a full week later—December 20th—and Aegon is finally feeling like himself again and is due to be released tomorrow. Sunfyre has been staying with you and your parents. He loves it, he gets constant attention and enjoys gazing out the window to see if his new best friend the cow moose will show up. Meanwhile, Trent has convinced his boss Rusty—another high school classmate of your parents, another hulking bearded specimen of the enmeshed Juneau ecosystem—to let Aegon keep his job despite the extended leave; Trent even managed to get Aegon paid time off for the first five days. This is all rather heroic of him. It makes you feel bad for thinking he might be a serial killer. If Trent knows that Aegon was drunk on the job, he hasn’t mentioned it to anybody.

“I got you something,” Aegon tells you when you get off work. It’s just after sunset, the last whisps of pink and lilac dusk vanishing from the sky. Things have been slow at the vet clinic as Christmas draws near, which is good in that you can leave early and visit Aegon more often. It’s bad because you’re less busy, less preoccupied; you have all the time in the world to think about him. Aegon is propped up in bed on pillows—his hair slicked back from his face, his eyes sleepy and racoonish—and wearing a hospital gown that’s too big for him. You can see his collarbones and his tattoos, though you’re trying very hard not to stare, to wonder. He points to the table beside his bed. There’s a bouquet of blue roses lying there.

“For me?!”

“For the person who literally brought me back from the dead? Yeah, I don’t think it’s too extravagant.”

You give him one of the hot chocolates you bought from the hospital cafeteria. It’s not as good as his, obviously, but it’s better than nothing. He clutches the Styrofoam cup with both hands, steam rolling up into his face. He inhales the scent, closes his eyes, sighs deeply with a smile. “I hope they aren’t stolen,” you say about the roses, only half-kidding.

“They’re from the gift shop. I dragged myself down there after lunch. They really weren’t that expensive, I think the cashier gave me a still-attached-to-an-IV discount.”

“Was she cute?”

“She was eighty years old.”

You laugh and sit down in the chair beside his bed, sipping your own hot chocolate: thin, watery, weak. You admire the roses, threading velvety cerulean petals through your fingers. “I love them, really, but I wish you wouldn’t buy things for me. I know you’re chronically short on money. And I am somehow skeptical that you have health insurance. Do you have health insurance?”

He grins toothily. “Nope.”

“Aegon,” you lament.

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll bill me, I’ll never pay, it’s all made up.”

“You might need a halfway decent credit score one day.”

He shakes his head. “I’m never going to try to get a mortgage. I’m never going to apply for a job at a bank or a law firm. I’ll be fine. I’ll live in a tree if that’s what it takes.”

You rest your palm against his cheek and then his forehead, checking for fever. His skin is warm but not hot, pale but not bloodless. You can feel his eyes on you, trying to catch your gaze like a hook through a fish. You avoid them.

“How do I look, vet lady?”

“I’m not really qualified to evaluate humans.”

“I don’t want to get better.”

Now you do stare at him, direct and mystified. “Why?”

“I’m worried you won’t be nice to me anymore.”

You chuckle, relieved. “I’ll still be nice to you, Aegon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

A nurse pops into the room, young and springy and jovial like a kitten. She must be new; you don’t recognize her, and you’ve been here a lot. “Good afternoon, I’m just swinging by to take your vitals. I see you’re scheduled to go home tomorrow, how exciting!” The nurse squints down at the chart she has pinned to a clipboard. “Aegon…?”

He smirks long-sufferingly. “It’s Greek.”

“It’s lovely!” the nurse recovers. She measures his temperature and heartrate and blood pressure, his reflexes and his oxygenation. He passes all inquiries with flying colors. She congratulates Aegon on his recovery and flits off to tend to more needy patients. You think of the nights you’ve spent curled up in this chair, listening to Aegon’s labored, rattling breathing and watching blooms of flare-hot crimson fever creep across his face. You think of how much it’s going to kill you to lose him someday. You find yourself staring at his tattoos, ink that someone else put there in some other city, remnants of the life he had before.

“You can ask,” Aegon says. “I’m sure you’re wondering.”

You set your hot chocolate on the table and move closer to him, ghosting your fingertips over the words: I’m a killer. He jolts a little, although not in a bad way, not in an unwelcome way. He doesn’t lean away from you. In fact, he leans in. “What’s up with that?”

“Would this be an awkward moment for me to confess that I’m the Ice Fisher?”

You smile. “You have to admit that it’s a little weird. There’s a killer on the loose, you have a tattoo that says you’re a killer, I think any reasonable observer would have questions.”

“Kimmie didn’t.”

“Reasonable observer, I said. Reasonable.”

“It’s not a confession. It’s a Johnny Cash lyric.”

“Really? Which song?” You know a fair amount of Johnny Cash thanks to your dad’s extensive vinyl collection. You skim through his discography in your head: Walk The Line, Ring Of Fire, Get Rhythm, Folsom Prison Blues, I Got Stripes. You can’t remember any of them having that line. It circles around in your skull, only sounding like Aegon’s voice: I’m a killer, I’m a killer.

“I’ve Been Everywhere,” he says. “It’s a cover, actually. Some other guy did it first. But I didn’t know that when I got inked. And I loved Johnny Cash’s version when I heard it. It was like my theme song.”

“Ohhh, right, that’s the one where he lists all the cities he’s been to, like Reno, uh, and Chicago, and, uhhh…”

Aegon sings, deep but hoarse: “Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma—” He breaks off with a coughing fit.

“Stop,” you beg, laughing. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” You trace the cursive letters lightly. I’m a killer. I’m a killer. “Kimmie never had questions about that?”

“I don’t think Kimmie really sees me. She just sees adjectives in the shape of my silhouette. But you…” He puts his hand over yours, pinning it to his chest. You can feel his heart under there somewhere, beneath muscles and bones and a pitch-black sea crawling with monsters that have evolved to live in the extreme gravity, in the depths: ghosts of the past and sirens of the future. He smiles. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.” You study his scars. They’re random like a scatterplot, none large enough to appear life-threatening. “How did you get these?”

“Car accident. A long time ago.”

“Before you left Miami?”

He gazes absently out the window, where snow is falling. You can see it drifting down to the earth in the gloomy beams of streetlights. “Yeah.”

Now there are new lyrics bubbling up in your mind, not anything by Johnny Cash but Cake’s The Distance. No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine, he’s haunted by something he cannot define. And perhaps you know something about what that feels like. “Do you really think I’m a coward?” you ask softly. “I know you’re trying not to lie to me. So I’m hoping you’ll tell me the truth. You might be the only person who will.”

Aegon pauses before he answers. “I think a lot of people are cowards in one way or another,” he says diplomatically. “And I think that if that’s your greatest flaw as a human—that you don’t want to disappoint your parents, that you don’t want to hurt them, that you want to repay them for being so wonderful when there are people out there who beat and murder their kids—you turned out alright.”

You think of how easy it would be to rest your head on his bare, scarred chest and let him hold you. You think of how much you want that, want it in a sudden and ravenous and unbearable sort of way. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“No problem, Appletini.”

There is a knock on the door, and you jerk away from Aegon. You pick up your hot chocolate and slurp it as you sink into the chair. Aegon laces his hands together and wrings them. Trent walks in. “Sup, bro?!” he pipes cheerfully.

“Bro,” Aegon offers in return. They bump fists.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I definitely am.”

“Still getting let out tomorrow?”

“Yup. Like a prisoner who made parole. Kimmie already offered to drive me home.” Then he adds: “Platonically.” Kimmie’s the only one in the friend group without a real job. Her parents are both university professors—you aren’t sure how none of the genius chromosomes made their way down the genetic Plinko board to her, but they didn’t—and she gets paid to be their ‘research assistant’…which means she works rarely and with no accountability whatsoever.

Trent’s eyes dart to you, to the blue roses, to you again, finally back to Aegon. He’s beaming, but there’s something hollow about it, like if you struck him across the face it would crack like porcelain. “Flowers, huh? That’s dope.”

“Yeah, I figured it was the least I could do since she saved my life and all.”

“She’s fantastic,” Trent agrees proudly, like he owns you. “In fact, that’s kind of why I’m here.” He turns to you. “I called the house and your parents told me I should check the hospital. I wanted to…you know, now that Aegon’s basically better and we all know he’s not gonna die…I wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, stupidly, like you’re unfamiliar with the concept. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, someplace nice. Candlelight and fancy dessert, the whole deal.”

A date. That’s definitely a date. You stare at Trent. He stares at you. Aegon frowns at you both, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “Dinner,” you say awkwardly, but with more conviction. “Totally. Dinner would be nice.”

“Awesome!” Trent thunders. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Sounds good!” you say with overcompensating enthusiasm. Trent swoops in for an unexpected hug—nearly spilling your hot chocolate—and gives Aegon a parting fist bump. Then he’s gone.

“I owe him,” you explain to Aegon, speaking quickly, nervously. “He saved your life, he fished you out of the channel like a goddamn salmon. He’s responsible for you keeping your job. He’s getting you paid time off. He’s been around the hospital a lot this week, he’s been so helpful, selflessly helpful…I can’t just tell him to fuck off after all that.” And then you say: “But it’s only dinner! Only one dinner!”

“Need some condoms?” Aegon teases, trying to make you smile. It works. “I have a box I’m not currently using.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Good to know.”

“I doubt your condoms are horse-sized anyway.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not about the number of inches, it’s about how you use them.”

“I’ve heard some very interesting things. About your inches, I mean.”

“Oh no,” he groans, covering his blushing face with his hands.

“I didn’t say bad things. I said interesting things.”

“I wouldn’t mind you knowing from firsthand experience,” he says with a sly little grin you can’t quite read. It’s playful, it’s sharp, it’s baiting, it’s sad.

“About what?”

“About my inches.”

You both burst out laughing, so hard Aegon launches into another coughing fit. You reach for him instinctively, pressing your hand to his chest again as if you can cure him, not a palm reader but a faith healer. A miracle worker. A professional fixer.

“You think it’s safe?” he asks, seriously now. “Dinner, I mean. With Trent.”

“I think he’d have a hard time strangling me in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And everyone’s going to know we’re hanging out together tomorrow night, he’d have to be more than stupid to kill me. He’d have to be all brainstem, like an alligator or a shark. Besides, he doesn’t want me dead.”

“I know. He wants you to be his wife.” There’s nothing to fill the uneasy lull but the pounding of your own heartbeat. “Call me,” Aegon says abruptly. “When you get home tomorrow night. So I know you’re okay.” So I know you didn’t get murdered. So I know you’re not at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

“What if it’s not until really late? I don’t want to disturb you while you’re recovering.”

He looks out the window: into the frigid void, into nothing. “Still call me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Trent takes you to the Red Dog Saloon, Juneau’s idea of fine dining. You intentionally dress to look not-sexy: dark blue flannel (you’ve warmed to the fabric since Aegon wears it so much) with a T-shirt underneath, jeans, boots, minimal makeup, hair in an I-really-don’t-care messy loose braid. Trent doesn’t seem to notice that this isn’t supposed to be a date. He’s wearing a button-up maroon shirt and khakis. He chats away blithely as you survey the menu. He’s had the servers bring out candles to put on the table. He’s ordered craft beers for you both. You wrinkle your nose and shudder after each thick bitter sip, chasing the beer with desperate gulps of water. Whoever owns the Red Dog Saloon does not share Dale’s devotion to Shania Twain and Christmas music; the stereo is playing Savage Garden’s Crash And Burn.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asks, casting former-football-star Trent a flirtatious smile just in case he’s single. He is! you mentally shout, hoping for telepathy. He just doesn’t know it!

“Yeah,” you begin. “I think I’d like to try your brisket—”

“Oh no, no no no,” Trent says with a chuckle. He flips his hair; in your head, you hear a neigh. “They have a great special. Trout with risotto. How fancy is that?! I don’t even know what risotto is! We gotta try that. We gotta make tonight special.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure.” You give the waitress a tight smirk as you hand her the menu. “The trout special. Two of them, I guess.”

“You’ll love it,” the waitress promises, tossing Trent another smile like a penny into a fountain. She takes both menus and disappears into the kitchen.

“So,” Trent says, drinking his beer. “I didn’t know you liked Aegon so much. I thought you kind of hated him, actually.”

You shrug, peering into the foam of your unwanted beer. “I don’t like to see anyone suffering. It doesn’t matter who.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“And you encouraged me to get along with him because you want him to stay in Juneau so he can be in your band.”

“Oh yeah, right. Okay, never mind. I was just…curious.” Another hair flip.

“Look, Trent…” You gather your courage like raking up autumn leaves. “We’re friends, right?”

He chortles. “Well, I’d like to think we’re a lot more than that.”

I bet you would. “But we never…like…we never put a label on it, you know?”

“Do you need a label?” he says. You had worried he might be mad; instead, he’s amused. You aren’t sure why that makes you feel worse. “Is that what makes it official, us using the words boyfriend, girlfriend, relationship, whatever?”

“Maybe those words don’t really apply to us, and that’s why we haven’t used them yet,” you try hopefully. “Like, if we were supposed to date, it would feel more natural for us to date. But maybe it doesn’t feel so natural, so we’re better off staying friends.”

Now he puts his beer down and stares at you. The glass thumps against the glossy wood. He’s bending towards you, though you don’t think he’s even aware of it; he props his elbows on the table, his brow crinkling in bewilderment. And there’s something else in the lines of his face too. Anger. Indignation. Betrayal. “You want to be friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” you amend swiftly. “I just said maybe we’re better off as friends.”

He slaps his palm against the table—you flinch, hating that he has that power over you—and laughs in amazement. “I’m just…well, I’m shocked! You’re fine with kissing me, and watching movies in your bedroom, and hanging out all the time, and getting drinks together and playing pool and showing me off to your parents, but you’re horrified by the thought of calling it dating?! You’re too much, ladybug. You’re really too much.”

He's going to pretend he doesn’t see that I want out. And he’s going to keep pretending until he’s on his knees with a fucking ring from Zales. “I don’t think I’m looking for a relationship right now, Trent. With anyone.” Oh, and that’s such a goddamn lie.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He studies you; but that’s too kind a word for it. His eyes flay you down to the bone. “I’m a good guy, you know.”

“I know,” you lie, nodding agreeably.

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” he says. “It’s not like you have forever to find someone to settle down with. I go to work, I’m popular, I’m presentable, I care about you, I take you on dates, I move your furniture around whenever you fucking ask me to, I’m a good guy. I get that maybe this is progressing a little fast for you, and we can slow down if that’s what you want. But I think it would be pretty stupid to give something like this up. Don’t you?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a threat. Don’t you? Don’t you? “You’re right, Trent,” you hear yourself say, like it’s someone else’s voice. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

The waitress arrives with your dinner and—not so subtly—slips Trent her number. He makes a great show of ripping it up in front of you. The trout and risotto thing is great, actually. It’s not what you walked in wanting, but it turned out just fine. And maybe that’s what the rest of your life will be like too: other people making choices, you hoping you’ll like the taste.

After dinner and dessert—a Baked Alaska, another of Trent’s suggestions that are more like nonnegotiables—he drives you home in his massive rumbling truck. You talk innocuously about your vet clinic clients, dogs and cats and hamsters and reindeer, until you roll to a stop in front of your parents’ house. You begin your goodbye, opening the truck door. Cold December air floods in.

“Okay Trent, thank you for a lovely night—” He cuts you off with a kiss he didn’t ask for, a hand on your face that feels hot and smothering. You’re so stunned it takes you a few seconds to try to push him away. He ignores you until you shove him so hard he can’t pretend not to notice.

“What are you so worried about?” he demands, he implores, like he’ll fix anything if you just name it, like he’ll strike the nails with his bare hands. But he can’t fix what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I’m in love with Aegon Targaryen. “Are you scared I’ll be bored of you once you give it all up? Are you worried about getting pregnant? Aren’t you on the pill? I saw the pack in your bedroom.”

You’re nauseated that he noticed, that he’s imagined you like that: naked, compliant, vulnerable. “Yes, Trent, but that’s for me, not for you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You tell him the truth. Not the whole truth—not enough to enrage him—but the crux of it: the spine, the heart. “I always thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like, but now I’m…I’m…”

“Well this is what comes next, right?” Trent says. “You check the boxes for school and work, and then it’s time to settle down. Get married, buy a house, have kids. I’m ready to give you that. I want to give you that. Don’t you want it too?”

Aegon is going to leave, you think with steel-cold dread. Sooner or later, he’ll disappear to start over again in some anonymous new city. And what will my life look like then? What will I have when he’s gone? “I guess I just need some more time to figure things out.”

Trent nods, his jaw clenched tight, looking out into the darkness through his windshield. “I’m not criticizing you for waiting. I’m just wondering what the hell you’re waiting for.”

Inside the house is hushed and empty; your parents are enjoying a night out with your dad’s bowling league. They even took Sunfyre with them. You drag yourself upstairs, each step a mile. You brush your teeth—twice—to get the taste of Trent and craft beer out of your mouth. And then you stand in your bedroom surrounded by posters and magazines, surrounded by fantasies that you will never wrap your hands around. You glance at the box full of Jesse’s journals; you can see the cardboard edge of it poking out from beneath your bed. He’s gone, and he wasn’t perfect, in fact in many ways he was a curse, was a plague, was a monster. But I think my mom would give anything for one more day with him. After all these years, I still think she would.

The blue roses Aegon gave you are in a vase on your nightstand, right next to the phone. They’re already dying. And now your throat is burning, and your eyes are wet with tears, and when defenseless sobs rip from your chest there is no one here to hear them. I don’t want to protect myself from what it would have been like with him. I want to know.

You snatch up the phone, find the Post-it note with Aegon’s number written on it, call him before you have time to change your mind. When he answers, it’s clear you woke him up. His voice is slow and groggy. “Hello?”

“Can I come over?”

“Huh…?”

“Can I please come over? I need to come over. I need to come over right now.”

Now he’s awake. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, I’m fine, I’m safe, I just…I just…” You swipe the tears from your eyes and take a long, trembling breath. “I just need to come over.”

“No problem,” Aegon says. He is puzzled, he is concerned…but you think a part of him is glad too. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

You drive your Jeep to his apartment building and park it—badly, crookedly, like he would—under a streetlight. The night is fiercely, brutally cold when you dive out into it. The full moon is an island; the indigo, star-flecked sky is an ocean deep with secrets and bones and wreckage, splinters of swallowed lives dissolving into the blue. Upstairs, Aegon’s door is already unlocked. He’s wearing a black Nirvana T-shirt and green flannel pajama pants, his hair disheveled. He’s also making hot chocolate.

“Hi,” he says casually, filling the mugs. He adds splashes of French vanilla coffee creamer—plus some 99 Whipped for his green mug—and swirls of whipped cream, then shaves on a generous dusting of Hershey’s chocolate. He gives you the blue mug. You take it in quivering hands. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m amazing.”

“Okay.” He waits, patient and watchful, sipping his hot chocolate.

You feel better after a few minutes tick by. Aegon’s apartment is serene and still. The tv is dark; there’s no music, no voices, no distractions. You can barely hear the screech of the Arctic wind outside. The only light turned on is the one in the kitchen; the rest of the apartment is shadows. The hot chocolate is warm, rich, comforting, safe. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty great,” Aegon replies. “Normal.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He gazes at you, still waiting.

You finish your hot chocolate and put the mug in the kitchen sink. You take your hair out of your braid and shake it loose, surveying his apartment with aimless steps: his couch, his guitar, his litany of refrigerator magnets, his unmade bed. Aegon sets his mug down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Appletini,” he says. “Why are you here?”

You turn back to him, but you can’t find your words. It’s on your face, it has to be; it’s in a language Aegon can speak fluently. You see the understanding flicker in his eyes like firelight: sudden, bright, exhilarated.

“Say it,” he prompts. “You have to say it, or I’m not going to believe you.”

You try, you really do try. But you can’t get the words to leave your lips. You don’t know how to put what you want from him into words at all. Anything, everything.

He smiles, softly like a whisper. “Me first, huh?” Then he begins undressing. He yanks his Nirvana T-shirt over his head—further tangling his hair—and tosses it across the room. He slips off his pajama pants, and then his boxers too. He’s standing there in the florescent kitchen light, flesh and ink and track marks and scars. “Okay, your turn. If you’re still interested.”

“I want you to do that part.”

He crosses the scuffed hardwood floor, his footsteps quiet. His fingers find the top button of your flannel shirt. His eyes are fixed on yours as he unhooks the first button, another, another after that. He leans in to press his lips to your throat, just beneath your jaw. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, he kisses his way down to your collarbone as he unfastens the rest of the buttons and gently pulls off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He slips his hands below the hem of the T-shirt you’re wearing underneath and lifts it away, his knuckles grazing your belly, your waist, your ribs, the lace of your bra. And then he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you with exceptional, reverent slowness, like you’re something that could shatter. You can’t reconcile this man with the sort of wild acrobatics that Kimmie had described. And then you’re not thinking about Kimmie at all. The past is a black hole, the future is an empty sky. There’s no room in this lightning-brief sliver of eternity for anyone else.

You breathe him in: sweetness, warmth, the bite of alcohol, fire and shadows and light. He unbuttons your jeans, unzips them, kneels down to peel them off of you. He touches his lips to your thigh—first the outside, then the downy-soft inside—and hesitates for a moment before he stands to kiss your lips again. His hands skim across your bare back towards the clasp of your bra, raising goosebumps like twilight stars. And then again, he hesitates. His hands come back to your face, his fingertips calloused but lithe.

“You’re nervous,” you murmur, smiling. You tuck his escaped lock of hair behind his ear, pressing yourself against him: hips, chest, soul. The sapphire blue lace of your bra and panties rustles across his skin. You can’t get close enough to him; it’s not possible, it’s not fathomable. He’s holding himself back, you can tell. He’s panting with the effort. In the midnight silence, you can hear every sound he makes with crystalline clarity. The moonlight pours in, painting you both in ghostly silver light.

Aegon chuckles shakily. “I am,” he admits.

“I think you’ve done this once or twice before.”

“Yeah, but not with you.”

“I want this,” you say, your lips to the curl of his ear. His skin is hot with eager, rushing blood. “And I want you to be the one to set me free.”

Something snaps in him, something breaks like a wave. Your bra tumbles to the floor, your panties are whisked away, you and Aegon are on the bed together tangled up like arteries flush with life. There is a breathless sort of desperation in it: in the way your fingers intertwine, in his gasps and your moans, in the sustained pleasure—so intense it borders on pain—that causes euphoric tears to spring up in your eyes, in his deep, startlingly powerful thrusts that begin slowly and then build to a furious rhythm. And you know then that he agrees, it’s not possible to ever get close enough to each other; but still, you resolve to try.

“Look at me, baby,” Aegon whispers as you arch into him and you beg him not to stop, his palm turning your face towards his. “Look at me, look at me, look at me…”

You unravel like thread torn from a spool until its empty, like a mystery, like stitches clipped from a healed wound. There’s an insurmountable sort of peace that follows it. Nothing is okay, and yet everything is, and you can conjure up no words but only colors: the white of snow, the indigo of the night sky, the gold of the rare unclouded midday sun, the ethereal green-violet glow of the Northern Lights. Aegon empties himself inside you, crying out and kissing the side of your face over and over again, tasting heat and salt and your unnamed love for him. You can feel the serenity settling over him as if it’s your own pulse slowing, your own mind cleared like the horizon after a storm. You are irredeemably etched into each other. You are two sides of the same coin: too weightless, too rooted, unable to leave, unable to stay.

As you lay side by side in the moonlight, your fingers tangled in his hair, Aegon says: “You are the only thing that’s ever made me want to stop running.”

“You could stay. I want you to stay.”

“For a while.” He pulls you against him. You rest your head on his chest: ink, scars, slow thudding heartbeat. His fingertips draw invisible paths up the length of your spine. “Not forever. But for a while.”

She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“I don’t want to have to forget you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Not yet,” Aegon vows. It’s the only promise he can make. He kisses your forehead, sweeping the tears from your cheeks with his hands. “Not yet.”

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

December 11th, 1995 - Queen Story!

Queen released ‘A Winter's Tale’/‘Thank God It's Christmas’/'Rock In Rio Blues’ in UK

🔸"Freddie wrote the song in Montreux, in a little house on the lake that we called The Duck House. The extraordinary thing is he's talking about life and its beauty at a time when he knows he hasn't got very long to go, yet there's no wallowing in emotion, it's just absolutely purely observed.

So that's the way I wanted my solo to be. It was one of those things where I could hear it in my head, long before I actually got to play it. And when I recorded it, at my home studio, in my head I was there with Freddie in Montreux in those moments, even though this was happening long after he was gone."

- Brian May, Mojo magazine

🔸🔸The statue is now a permanent fixture by the lake, with Freddie standing proud, purveyor of a spectacular landscape and the many people that come to visit him there. The effigy is every bit as imposing as Freddie was on stage and has become a great tourist attraction. Queen's inimitable front man stands tall, overseeing the view he himself enjoyed so much and indeed captured in the lyrics of one of his final songs, A Winter's Tale; swans floating by, sea-gulls flying over, a silky moon up in the sky, mountains zoomin' higher, quiet and peaceful, tranquil and blissful, a kind of magic in the air, a truly magnificent view, a breathtaking scene, an extraordinary place!

(queenonline.com)

Pic: November 1990 - Freddie Mercury photo session 'Headlong'

📸 Photographer © Simon Fowler

Full Officiale Video 👇

https://youtu.be/CjWQZBmJf6M

[talesfromasnarkylisa]

Stranded In Arendelle: Chapter 11

July 28th, 1843

After a long week of worsening snowy misery, Arendelle’s blizzard finally let up.

“Thank God,” grinned Nuru.

The airship to take Rapunzel and Eugene back home successfully managed to arrive thanks to the improved weather. Eugene would much rather have returned by ship, but there was a funeral to attend since the king died. Rapunzel also had a kingdom to rule. 

“Goodbye, Eugene,” Tony bid Eugene farewell.

“Goodbye,” said Eugene. 

Eugene held Rapunzel’s hand.

“You know how you couldn’t afford university even though you really wanted to, Tony?”

“Yeah?” he wondered.

“Guess what,” Eugene stated. “I’m not going to get Rapunzel to use Coronans’ taxpayer money to get you in. But I do know of a good scholarship.”

“Tell me,” Tony lit up.

Eugene explained to Tony the requirements of the scholarship.

“Well,” Tony smiled, “I think I fit the requirements.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Nuru chimed in.

“Good luck,” Rapunzel watched the ship dock. “And Nuru?”

“Yes?” Nuru turned around.

“Thanks for everything,” Rapunzel pulled Nuru into a hug.

“You’re welcome,” Nuru stated. “And thank you, Rapunzel.”

The Coronan royals boarded the ship.

One Year Later

Officially pardoned in August of 1843, Tony had finished his first year in the prestigious Oxten University. He occasionally mailed Eugene, who would mail him back.

The kingdom of Corona prospered under Rapunzel’s rule. She reformed the justice system to avoid execution except for when serial murder or sexual assault was involved. Coronan citizens were happy, and a preliminary system of democracy allowing them to vote for or against whichever rules Rapunzel made started to get put in place. Its economy and infrastructure were doing great - in no small part thanks to Varian and his new partner working on the electricity system. Foreign relations with Arendelle were also much better with Queen Elsa as its leader.

While not as glamorous as Corona, the kingdom of Hawada was finally improving. Thanks to both Nuru’s and Varian’s efforts, there was now better infrastructure to deal with the meteorite attacks which plagued it. A truce for the war had been agreed to, and Hawada was left alone. 

Kirsti’s mother was released from prison around Christmas time. Now reunited, Kirsti would telegraph her frequently.

Of course, there were still issues to be resolved. The kingdoms were far from true equality, this being the 19th century. Rapunzel still had to deal with conflicts in the palace from time to time.

But compared to just a few years ago, life was much better.

THE END

…

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! I’d appreciate a vote (if on Wattpad) or like (if on Tumblr) if you enjoyed reading the fanfic. Comments are also welcome.

This was initially going to be 15 chapters, but I couldn’t find a way to prolong the narrative without it feeling repetitive, personally. 

Regardless, I’m going to be moving on to something new soon. It’ll be an original fic inspired by some pop music I’ve heard. Should that interest you…see you then!

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1475200729-stranded-in-arendelle-chapter-11)

[limetameta]

You know for a manga that boasts having so many badass female characters i can't help but need to add OCs to Metallic Crimson because all of the female characters fall into the following categories:

A) White Seeming Soldier Lady (Riza Hawkeye, Rebecca Catalina, Maria Ross, Sheska, Olivier Mira Armstrong, Briggs Doctor*) (*military doctor ergo here and not below- plus babe doesn't even have a name)

B) White Seeming Civillian Lady (Winry, Pinako, Sarah Rockbell, Armstrong sisters (3 of them and i can't recall if they ever speak), Mrs Armstrong (we don't have a name for her), Madame Christmas, Trisha Elric*, Gracia Hughes*) (*have these gals done anything except been there for their man or their sons I would hardly count them shonen badass but I am adding them because they are female characters and they play a part)

C) White Seeming Alchemist Lady (Izumi Curtis) (lmao i thought there'd be more but all of the other alchemists in the manga are men)

D) Not Human (Martel, Lust, Nina, Nina's mom)

E) Not Amestrian* (*Ishvalans are Amestrian) (Lan Fan, Mai, The panda (tbh i just now noticed i put the panda here and not in Not Human and it's so much funnier here)

The only ones who don't fall into this category are Shan (the ONLY female speaking ishvalan in the fmab anime - SHE APPEARS SO LITTLE AND IS FORGETTABLE THAT I HAD TO GOOGLE HER) and Paninya (a one-off character)

Oh but limeta! Amestris is supposed to be Europe, that's why they're all white -

My brother in christ, Raven and Paninya are RIGHT THERE

For its time, FMAB is an incredibly diverse story with amazing female characters, but i see people still boasting them for modern standards and it's like - but there aren't, there really aren't many badass female characters at all. and if I were to take a step further and remove all of the female characters whose sole motivation is enabling or helping a man succeed then I'd cut those characters up there even further. The only ones who are genuinely badass characters with their own clear cut motivation are Pinako Rockbell (suppose if she were younger, she'd be given a man to hype and do things for but thank god she's an old wise woman archtype and therefore immune to that trope), Sarah Rockbell (selflessly saving lives and being a doctor, though sorry queen you died) and Olivier Mira Armstrong (proactively fucking shit up and with a clear motivation what she wants - but then you can also infer that Mustang is a part of her motivation because she wants to fuck his chances up of being Fuhrer lmao)

Winry in brotherhood is very waifu, very not proactive, very I'll wait for you but she still gets shit done and so she's still badass because we all know that strength is differently expressed with different characters so she's still on this list, but compared to her 03 version she's very stay at home, very support role, very all i do i do for ed and al.

Riza Hawkeye... i love her. she's my favourite character. but remove roy from her motivation and what do you get...be honest...

Madame Christmas, for the only times she does appear, she does so because she's gotta help Roy.

Gracia is a housewife :) and we know nothing about her. She is an extension of Maes Hughes. She is there because if she weren't there we wouldn't have Elicia and if we didn't have Elicia we wouldn't have the scenes where Maes boasts and hypes his family up in order to solidify his characterisation as THAT CARING DUDE HOPE NOTHING BAD - OH NO THE WIFE GUY DIED.

Make no mistake! This is not anti fmab. I've written over 300k worth of content for this fandom and I adore every single frame of that show (especially the nina tucker spliced with her dog frame, chefs kiss) But it has forced me to have to create either backstories and motivation for most of these female characters that exist outside of the men in their lives or it has forced me to create OCs that don't fall within those aforementioned categories.

Would it have been so bad, I ask, if we got an Ishvalan character who was not a monk and not in the slums waiting to die? Maybe even a female character? Would it have been so bad that we got more speaking roles for women outside of the military who aren't alchemists? Would it have been bad if we got a female character who was a State Alchemist?

Most likely yes, because Arakawa had a clear view of what she needed in order to tell her story from start to finish, but I'm not confined to such limitations and I'll make Ishvalan characters who are proactive. I'll gladly add more characterisation to our prexisting anime babes because I love that I can. I am a worldbuilder first and foremost and I love making a world that's LIVED in and having such a sanitized character list from up there is really making me not feel like it's LIVED in.

Anyway calling fmab a show filled to the brim with badass female characters is ??? an outdated take.

[iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife]

Για το ask game Edgeworth και Ανδρέας

Miles Edgeworth 💅

First impression: OH I SHOULD GET INTO ACE ATTORNEY IMMEDIATELY THIS MAN IS GOING TO RUIN ME.

Impression now: I was one hundred percent correct in my assumptions. He did in fact ruin me. This man has the range honestly. He is kind. He is an asshole. He is traumatised. He has every subtype of daddy issues known to man. He is a bitchy gay queen. He is aroace-spec (to me). He is autistic. He has NO idea what to do with himself when he is not in a courtroom. He is insane. Ive seen it. I enjoy it. Amen.

Favourite moment: "thanks to you i am saddled with unnecessary.... feelings....". Everything about turnabout goodbyes. The talk with Franziska at the end of aa2. The talk with phoenix after the earthquake in aa3. I could literally never pick Just One moment sorry.

Idea for a story: ... I've brainstormed two (2) aus that involve Edgeworth with two different mutuals. The first one is the Eurovision au where vk just sends miles to represent germany in Eurovision and the second one is the ace attorney/παρά πέντε crossover me and @alalumin have been driving ourselves insane over. Out of the two, the first one is the most fleshed out but the second one i might actually sit down and write for one day. Thats about all the concrete story ideas ive had for this man so far dkskks. Everything else is just a jumble of vague angsty daydreams.

Unpopular opinion: hmmm a lot of people tend to ignore the fact that he was canonically suicidal after aa1 so i suppose that could count as an unpopular opinion? Like if he wasn't actually suicidal, the note meant that he straight up faked his death which makes him an even bigger asshole that he usually is, which in turn makes phoenix's misdirected anger and blame seem a lot more justified? Also a lot of people tend to ignore the fact that phoenix would NOT handle Edgeworth admitting that he meant the note literally well. And honestly im not really blaming anyone here. Their aa2 dynamic is sooo complex, Edgeworth hurt the people that cared about him by hurting himself and not all of them are ready to forgive him immediately and thats fine. I just wish more people would explore this whole thing instead of oversimplifying it yknow?

Favourite relationship: narumitsu obvs but honestly? The Franziska and Miles fucked up sibling relationship means the world to me, its like a really really really close second.

Favourite headcanon: does it actually count as a headcanon if its strongly supported by canon? Idk but he definitely avoids elevators as much as he can and considering that his office is in the twelfth fucking floor the man walks up a lot of flights of stairs. He must have thighs of steel skkskaka. Also i like to think that at some point after the investigation games he went to therapy and he finally (!) got some help for that unmedicated and undiagnosed canon ptsd hes been drowning in since he was nine years old. Also he got Pess because i love her. Maybe she is trained as a service dog. He would love her with all his heart and her death would kickstart a major depressive episode because god knows this man can't handle grief but in the end he could get over it. Maybe even get a second dog or learn how to deal with loss in a less self destructive way. Also i don't think he would ever be able to fully enjoy Christmas? Like sure his fathers death doesn't hurt as much anymore but i like to think that the nightmares rear their ugly head during the Christmas season. Sure, he IS doing better but some things never really go away. He can hang out at the prosecutors office or Wright anything agency Christmas parties without feeling utterly miserable but he doesn't enjoy the holidays as much as everyone else. Some people don't understand why or think thats its just another aspect of his charming personality but the people who do are sympathetic about it.

Ανδρέας Καλογήρου 🔪

First impression: γουαου ποιός είναι αυτός ο μαλάκας λολ. Ειλικρινά νομίζω την πρώτη φορά που είδα το παρά πέντε δεν με ένοιαζε πολύ σαν χαρακτήρας.

Impression now: κοίτα. Έχεις δει το μπλογκ μου. Ξέρεις πως νιώθω για αυτόν τον άνθρωπο. Ο Ανδρέας έχει θεματάρες. Έχει παγιδεύσει τον εαυτό του σε μια θέση στην οποία είναι και θύμα και θύτης και από την οποία δεν έχει τρόπο ή ιδιαίτερη θέληση να βγει. Κατά την διάρκεια του σόου πηγαίνει από την αδιαφορία για τους ανθρώπους που σκοτώνει, στην εμμονή με το να πιάσει τους πέντε και μόνο όταν τον συλλαμβάνουν και όλα τελειώνουν συνηδειτοποιεί πόσο μάταια ήταν όλα αυτά και πόσες ζωές έχει καταστρέψει συμπεριλαμβανομένης και της δικής του. Επίσης ο άνθρωπος είναι μούναρος 😔😔.

Favourite moment: το τηλεφώνημα στον Σπύρο στο φινάλε με στοιχειώνει τα βράδια.

Idea for a story: πέρα από το ο Σπύρος επισκέπτεται τον Ανδρέα στη φυλακή fic που βρίσκεται αυτή τη στιγμή στο wip hell μου έχει καρφωθεί στο μυαλό εκείνη η ατάκα που ο Παυρινός αποκαλεί τον Νίκο πρεζόνι και το τι μπορεί να υπονοεί για το Ανδρέας/Νίκος μπακστορι. Επίσης εκείνο το όνειρο που είχα δει ότι έχει κόρη και redemption arc, angst fic για την γενική κακομεταχείριση που τρώει από τον Παυρινό, το Ανδρέας/Νίκος καφενείο au το οποίο κάποιος πρέπει να γράψει σας εκλιπαρώ και το προαναφερόμενο ace attorney/παρά πέντε crossover στο οποίο εμφανίζεται ως μάρτυρας στην δίκη της Αγγέλας. Το πόσα από αυτά θα καταλήξω όντως να γράψω ποτέ είναι πολύ αμφιλεγόμενο τβχ αλλά το γεγονός είναι ότι μου τριβελίζουν συνέχεια το μυαλό.

Unpopular opinion: δεν ξέρω είμαστε στο παρά πέντε φάντομ, είμαστε δέκα άτομα όλα κι όλα κάθε άποψη μετράει για unpopular κσκσκσ. Αλλά απλά και μόνο για να πω κάτι. Νομίζω όντως προσπάθησε να αγαπήσει τη Ζάνα. Ο γάμος τους ήταν ότι πιο hand in unlovable hand και σφάζονταν όλη μέρα αλλά προσπάθησε να φτιάξει τη ζωή του στην αρχή τουλάχιστον, εξού και ο ευτυχισμένος χετεροσεξουαλ γάμος. Στο μυαλό μου ήταν από αυτά τα ζευγάρια που έχουν ημερομηνία λήξης και το ήξεραν και οι δύο. Μετά έπεσε στα βαθιά με τις δουλειές με τον Παυρινό και πήρανε επιτέλους διαζύγιο. Επίσης δεν νομίζω ότι με τον Νίκο τα έχουνε, έχουνε. Νομίζω έχουν μια ελαφρώς fucked up relationship όπου δεν επικοινωνούν τίποτα εβερ, απλά πηδιουνται περιστασιακά on and off και μετά απλά πηγαίνουν και τα φτιάχνουν με άλλους. Τουλάχιστον στην αρχή. Τώρα αν μετά το τέλος της σειράς βγουν ποτέ από την φυλακή θέλω να πιστεύω ότι θα μπορούσαν να φτιάξουν λίγο τη ζωή τους αλλά αν δεν βγουν ποτέ. Well. Πώς νιώθεις όταν συνηδειτοποιείς ότι αγαπούσες τον καλύτερο σου φίλο χρόνια τώρα αλλά δεν έκανες ποτέ τίποτα για αυτό επειδή απλά δεν τολμούσες να αλλάξεις τίποτα στην μοναδική σταθερή σχέση που σου είχε απομείνει στη ζωή σου και ταυτόχρονα ήσουν πολύ απασχολημένος να σκοτώνεις κόσμο; Πώς νιώθεις όταν συνηδειτοποιείς ότι τώρα μπορεί να είναι πια πολύ αργά; Γενικά head full many thoughts.

Favourite relationship: Νίκος/Ανδρέας δαγκωτό.

Favourite headcanon: ναιιι δεν νομίζω ότι αυτός ο άνθρωπος είχε καλά παιδικά χρόνια. Ή καλό πατέρα. Ο Παυρινός κυριολεκτικά του πετάει πράγματα και αυτός ο καημένος σκύβει να τα πιάσει 😔 babyboy έχεις τραύμα. Η μάνα του είναι νεκρή (ναι κυριολεκτικά αναφέρεται έτσι throwaway σε ένα επεισόδιο και δεν το έχω ξεχάσει ποτέ) και επιλέγω να πιστεύω ότι την σκότωσε ο πατέρας του. Μισεί τον πατέρα του και κατά βάθος μισεί και το γεγονός ότι μεγαλώνοντας έχει γίνει σχεδόν ακριβώς σαν αυτόν. Ξεκίνησε να καπνίζει στο γυμνάσιο. Επίσης δεν πιστεύω ότι τελείωσε ποτέ το λύκειο.

[daisyishedwig]

Glee tag game

I was tagged by @annepi-blog, thank you!

1. Favourite season 1 episode: Okay, so the obvious answer is Laryngitis because it's one of the absolutely best Kurt episodes in the whole show. But I also fucking hate everything about Rachel's storyline but Rose's Turn alone does kind of give it the leg up to still be the best episode anyway.

2. Favourite season 2 episode: Oh I've got so many contenders for this one. I love Furt and the relationships we get to see between Burt and Kurt and Kurt and Finn. But then Never Been Kissed is just a classic with it being Blaine's first episode and Chris' acting in it is just so so incredible. Blame It On The Alcohol would be a higher contender because I love drunk Blaine and I actually really enjoy Finn in that episode, which isn't something that happens a lot for me until season 4, but the writer's biphobia that they push onto Kurt really ruins it. But I think the actual winner would have to be Prom Queen. I love Kurt in that episode and I love it being the first time we start to see that Blaine's not perfect, that he's a little broken, a little fragile. It's underutilized, but it really sets up so much of what makes Blaine my favorite character to write.

3. Favourite season 3 episode: Okay, we all know it's Michael. Like of course The First Time, On My Way, and Dance With Somebody are all great episodes that I really love. But Michael is the episode I rewatch the most. And part of my love for it is, a) the cut Want You Back scene, and b) believing Seblaine to be genuine, very close friends which makes the slushee incident so much more heart-wrenching. But it's still such a good episode, especially for me with my deep love of angst and Sebastian Smythe, it's really just the best episode in general. Plus it has the added bonus of having the one and only Samcedes duet so, yeah, it's the best.

4. Favourite season 4 episode: Diva and Feud are both a lot of fun, even if a lot of what happens in them is really ridiculous. Guilty Pleasures is such a good Blam episode. And I love I Do for the flirty and thirsty sides of Klaine we get to see. But I do feel like, once again, the angst lover in me has to go with The Breakup. The Scientist and Don't Speak are two of my favorite songs on the whole show. Everyone's acting in that episode is just so so good. Darren and Chris just knock it out of the park in every single scene, and I will never cease to be awed by them.

5. Favourite season 5 episode: I would probably say Tested, because I always love an episode where Blaine gets to cry. And I love Elliot and everything that he does for Klaine in getting them to communicate. And I love getting to truly see Blaine acknowledge his self-worth issues instead of them just constantly being buried and locked away. A lot of the episode is weird and difficult to watch but the conversation that Klaine have at the end will always be one of my favorite Klaine scenes. Other contenders were Bash, because I love Kurt in that episode and once again we get angsty Blaine. And then New York New York because its when we first get to see Klaine actively working to fix the problems in their relationship instead of clinging to the past so tightly that they crush it entirely.

6. Favourite season 6 episode: God, this one is hard because I'm honestly not sure there's any episode that I truly love. Like The Hurt Lockers are iconic, and I love Chris' acting in 2009. But so much of that season is just weird and almost pointless that I'm not sure I have an episode I like enough to consider my favorite.

7. Episode that makes me cry: I haven't rewatched The Quarterback since it aired because of how much it makes me cry. Tested and The Breakup also both hurt a lot.

8. Episode that makes me laugh: The Hurt Lockers for sure

9. Favourite tribute episode: Michael obviously. It's probably my favorite episode of the whole show in general and the songs are so well done.

10. Favourite Christmas episode: Ooof, I love them all for different reasons, but there's just something about Blaine going to New York with Burt to comfort Kurt that will always get to me so it's gotta be Glee, Actually.

11. Episode with the best songs: Ooooh, probably the mashup episodes? I'm not sure I can pick one but it would be a tie between Never Been Kissed and Mash Off.

12. Favourite sectionals episode: Oh, I'm torn between Special Education and Hold On To Sixteen. I love Quinn and Sam getting a duet, and I love Valerie, and I love Mercedes and Tina getting to sing Dog Days Are Over (maybe I just love the lack of Rachel solos, lol). But I do love the set list in Hold On To Sixteen, I love Quinn singing Control, I love Kurt and Tina and Mike all getting solo parts in ABC. And of course The Troubletones are just so good.

13. Favourite regionals episode: I've gotta say On My Way even if it's largely just for Glad You Came and Cough Syrup. The actual competition doesn't matter much to me, but the Karofsky storyline was handled really well and I love Sebastian's apology to Blaine and the New Directions, and it's just good in general.

14. Favourite nationals episode: I really love the set list for Nationals in season 3, but I hate Rachel and so much of that episode is all about Rachel and her choking at her NYADA audition and somehow convincing Carmen Tibideux to come see her anyway. But on the other hand while I don't love the City of Angels set list for nationals as much, I do love the fact that they were all Finn's (and Cory's) favorite songs. And I love Burt and Carole being there. And I love Throat Explosion (or at least John Baptiste) actually being very kind and respectful of Finn's passing. I like that they didn't just lean hard into the show choir rivalry there and let them actually be humans who recognize the pain of the McKinley team. Also Throat Explosion's set was really good too.

15. Episode most people like but I don’t: I might get killed by my Klaine friends. But Love, Love, Love? At the time it aired I was super excited about the proposal, but now as an adult, I really wish it hadn't happened, especially not like that. Like I get that it's romantic in that big grand gesture that Kurt deserves and Blaine would always want to give him. But. They hadn't talked about it! While Kurt guessed it was coming on the drive, it still didn't leave him with anyway to actually pull Blaine aside and talk about it. And with multiple other show choirs there, including Sebastian, can you really expect Kurt to be able to say anything but yes? Like I would have loved for them to have a quiet, personal proposal. To have Blaine ask and have them talk about it and whether or not they're ready for that. And then they could do the big thing. But instead we got Kurt not being given a chance to think about if this is something he actually wants, and it leads to a lot of problems in the future for them.

16. Episode most people dislike but I like: Probably Old Dog, New Tricks. Like it's a weird episode, admittedly. But we get some of my favorite things in it. We get Blaine being a sweet and supportive partner, we get Klaine being a team, we get Kurt calling Rachel out on how selfish she is, we get puppies, and we get Peter Pan. It's great. I have fun with that episode.

and now that I have finally finished that, I'm going to tag @esilher, @calsvoid, @lusthurts, @backslashdelta, and @cryscendo

[royalwriteroftheuniverse]

Clint you and Bucky Stuck in a quinnjet during the holidays (ill think of a better name)

@hawkeyes-queen requested a specific holiday one with Clint and reader and Bucky. I tried to include everything you asked for. It's my first time writing for Clint so yea... I hope you like it.

Comments and reblogs welcome no reposting no publishing no translating.

Fluffy slight mention of loss of family/parents and injury. And a dead squirrel- don't ask. 18+ just in case but yea thats about it .

"Were you able to get through? "

"Yea" Clint sighs. "At least Nat is there."

"At least you don't have to wear that ugly sweater."

"Hey my kids made that sweater. And its ugly that's the whole point."

I was the of the only people outside of the avengers who knew clint had a family. They took pity on me, well rather his wife apprently after they had found out I basically didn't have a family Just because of life. Outside of other training I had approached him to learn about the bow and arrow.

"You wanna try Steve again?"

"No, besides Bucky is. Why do you keep asking me about Steve?"

"Because he kept asking me about you"

I confided in Clint a lot I felt like I could trust him and a lot of people I couldn't. So I'd gone to him for advice for a few things. Ok a bunch and his wife for girl stuff that Nat didn't know about.. He said he was more than happy to be my ipso facto family especially given the fact I had taken to the bow like a fish to water asomething that almost no other avenger incicutive agents had done. And also almost immediately hit the target. Which is exactly why he requested me for the mission. It was supposed to be in and out and he wanted another eye in the sky precision with a weapon that didn't cause noise.

"He likes you"

"No he likes that I just don't rely on hand to hand and guns." Thats only why I got so high so fast- talent and an Avenger likes you I'm not ashamed of it either. I'm taking every opportunity and as I see it I impressed him.

"Sure and he just stares at your ass because he's worried about your posture." Bucky chimes in walking over.

"That makes no sense Bucky. "

"That's exactly my point."

"You talk to Steve?"

"Yea says Hi so why didn't you want to talk to him."

"I did I tried to call." Getting defensive why I don't know

"He said you hung up"

"It was the signal- God I hate Tony so much right now."

"Why I thought you didn't like Steve?

"Because I want to be back home. Wallowing in my loser life" I gritted through my teeth

"We're not going to find you on a bridge are we"

"And give Tony the satisfaction of having to call him an angel no thanks"

"What are you two talking about?"

"It's a wonderful Life"

"So why are you concerned about her on a bridge?"

"No, It's a movie there a man on the bridge he was going to jump but an angel shows him how bad people's life would be in he didn't exist."

"So what were your Christmas traditions?" Clint asks.

It was something you never discussed with Clint he thought it was a sad subject for you something you never opened up about but once you said your birthday was never celebrated he had backed off... and made sure you had a nice one.

But since everyone was miserable here he thought he'd ask. He wasn't exactly going to ask Bucky as his last 70 years of being a brainwashed soilder probably included killing people probably didn't include presents and caroling

"Nothing."

"Nothing? No traditions not even opening up a present on Christmas even or getting a picture with Santa?"

"Nope. My parents weren't one for Christmas"

"Why" Bucky asked. Usually even if family didn't do birthday they usually didn't skip Christmas

"I'm Jewish" you shrugged.

"And now I understand." Clint answered and we all laughed a bit.

"If you ever want to come over and light candeles one day or 8...." it was something Buxky didn't speak about wither but now that he knew.....

You looked at Bucky and he smiled.

Clint was lost and lost in thought about the situation that was pressing and has been for a few weeks. More than a few.

"Buck you hungrey?" Clint nudges his head to the side

"Uh yea I am"

"Let's go get some rations"

"Don't worry about asking me boys I can get there myself even though you're going and didn't bother to even ask."

"Oh good" Clint replied "cause I don't care."

You rolled your eyes and then closed them. You weren't hungrey just appreciating the cold floor to sooth your muscles.

"Ok we gotta get those two together." Clint was over this song and dance. And what better time besides Christmas or Hanukkah for that matter. Ok Valentines day but thats a backup.

"Something tells me there's no dance halls I can send her and Steve to." Buck was used to the 40s still and was out of practice and Steve was still well Steve. If the serum enhances everything it definitely had to effect his shyness in women

"Uh no. How was Steve with Mistletoe?"

:readmore:

"You're kidding right. "

"Well I have an idea."

"Steve is comming to get us right"

"Yea he hasn't really celebrated holiday anything since well yea he volunteered."

Buck remembered he tried to get Steve to join in on his family celebrations after he lost his mother but he never took it. But bucky loved the holiday season. He'd always try and get his sister a little hair comb or necklace. He loved seeing her smile. No one had a lot of money during the depression, so it was usually one present for each, but thats what made the holidays special him and his family knew how to make the most out of the least. His sister always did the same. When she was little it had started with drawn pictures- what do you want from a kid. But it was on old homework assignment Bucky had. It had Bucky protecting her and a second one with thier mom and dad and maybe Bucky doing whatever he was into that year and then when She gotten older she was more creative. She had found a hat being thrown out for the tear in it. But she had cleaned it and was able to stick up the hole by embroidering a B with strings she found. Bucky loved that hat. She was young when she made it it wasnt a masterpiece but he had held onto it. He made a mental note to finally take it back from the Smithsonian. He missed it.

He missed Sarah Rogers bakeries too. Steve drew everyone pictures. Often it was portraits. And expertly done. He could've made money if he wanted to. He should have been able to.

"So I say we turn little miss scrooge there into a giant Mistletoe." Clint's eyes gleamed with mischief

"What?" Bucky still hasn't seen the sprint in stupid ugly outfits.

"Use her jacket And decorate her. It's on the chair and by the time Steve gets here it'l be looking like a Mistletoe tree and shell be forced to wear it and you just push Steve into her and he kisses her. Even on the cheek its a start."

Bucky just stands there blinking "Or we could trap them in a small supply closet and I won't let them out until I hear kissing but I guess yours is more festive."

Bucky runs outside to get tree branches and some berries and leaves that resemble Mistletoe and you lay there taking a nap.

The two of them are laughing thier asses off using tape to tape things on your jacket as you sleep. They also decided to add little d

Festive notes like branches they almost put a dead squirrel on there but rabies... they were definitely loosing thier minds.

Steve had called over the intercom link

That he was close to rescuing the three agents from the broken down quintet.

You still layed there peacefully with your eyes closed. Bucky kept looking at your chest to make sure you were actually breathing you were so still. You reminded him of his sister at times. Especially lying there. There was one time his sister did the same, but was lying in Steve's arms hurt. Sbe skinned your knee once because some mean kids pushed her so while Bucky pummeled them Steve comfort her. But Bucky was close enough to hear what was being said. Steve said people were being mean saying she were too weak to play ball with the boys. And Steve held her when she were crying and said "They say the same thing to me"

"But you still play ball"

"Because I'm not weak and you aren't either. Sometimes things like ball take practice and other times people are better than other but everyone can play."

Bucky remembered that so clearly for some reason. Maybe because it was around the holidays and she had given Steve, whom whe called Stevie a kiss under mistletoe that year, which Bucky saw and for a split second he was seriously considering pummeling his best friend to a pulp

It made Bucky a little homesick and a bit blue. He decided he was going to go visit his parents and sisters and then go to something for some kids. To make em smile and maybe spar with Steve to try and pummel him to a pulp.

Bucky nudged you to wake up with his foot and you let out a scream that was heard throughout the jet and over the comm.

"What happened whats going on?"

"I don't- I think uh um." Clint turned around spooked as well. His stomach dropped as he froze for a moment.

"Whose hurt"

"Rodgers theres three of us does Bucky scream like that?"

"Shit what happened"

"Language," Clint let out a chuckle to cover the worry in his voice.

"I'm serious Barton"

"I dont know she's been asleep most of the time"

"Most of the - great ok only 6 hours then. No one thought to check on her?"

"Bucky went to pick her up but the minute he put his hands on her."

"Ow ownow ow don't don't touch me please just don't" you pleaded.

The two men didn't realize how much you had injured yourself on the mission

"What hurts?"

"My toes"

"Your toes?"

"Your toes?" Clint echoed

"Yea they're the only thing that doesn't hurt. "

"Did you fall?" Bucky was trying to put the peices together while Clint was talking to Steve about landing sites and what needed to go now or could wait until later since you were obviously hurt and neither

"Sorta"

"How do you sort of fall?"

"A tree branch broke my fall" not an entire lie just it was a very small thin Charlie brown tree branch and by fall ur foot fell on the ground...when you stepped on said ground...

"Why didn't you say something"

"Adrenaline... shock... trying to ignore it and as still as possible and it worked until someone touched me."

"The cargo bay door opened and Steve instantly found your laying form on the floor"

Leaning down to your level

"Hey so we gotta get you gotta here and into the quinnJet"

"I'm in a quinn jet"

"One the works"

"Mnnn no Steve"

"Hey I got you," he said in a soft voice. "I'll be gentle, I promise." He gave you a small smile.

You groaned in pain. At being slightly lifted

"See not too bad I'll take you to the other quinnjet Buck get her a blanket will ya."

Bucky felt so bad there he and Clint were having fun while you were miserable. Thier ideas of setting you two up fell to the waist side completely forgotten.

"It's pretty cold out ok?"

You looked up at him with widened innocent doe eyes

"Ok" you responded in a smallish voice

And boy was he NOT kidding it was freezing you were really regretting this right now.

Steve went to place you down on the biobed

"No no no no." Please don't just dont make me move

"Sweetheart we gotta know whats wrong." Steve was ever so gentle even with his voice.

"I'll be ok until we get back to the tower just don't let go please Steve I'm fine I just I'll be fine enough to get home please.I know I will please?"

The tears filled your eyes. "Trust me. Were a team right we need to trust eachother"

Steve gave in. But to be fair he sorta gave in the minute you wanted to stay in his arms. The tears were a tipping point.

He held you ever so gently and stroaking your hair on the ride home.

"Why didn't you say something to them."

"I was sleeping Steve"

" I heard you scream I-"

"I'll be ok Can I sleep. "

"It's an 6 hour flight honey I really want to get you-"

"No Steve trust me that's not an issue. Just hold me"

"Ok"

He placed a soft kiss on your head.

"Get some rest you hungry though?"

"No just tired."

"Have some water a bite of a protein bar. Please."

"Come on you're kidding it can't hurt its like be 12 hours without food or water you want to be stuck in the infirmary over the holidays?" Clint provoked you. He knew you didn't. You had a practiced the perfect gingerbread house to load it up.

Bucky had helped give you some water and a protein drink as Steve held you.

Bucky and Clint were talking about the snow storm and navigation when they happened to see the reflection of Steve kissing your head in the mirror

"Did you?"

"Are they? "

"He's probably just trying to comfort her that's all it is you know how she is she loves hugs." Barton was regreatting his plan and already resigned to not going to be able to handle when Lila was a teenager

"He can handle with women who are hurt," Bucky's head cocked. "He's always been soft like that."

And so you slept in his arms most of the flight you were tired and Steve was always cozy and his heart beat had the perfect rhythm like a soothing clock. He was also humming I'll be home for Christmas even though he knew you were Jewish its not like there's a romantic Hanukkah song out there.

Around 3 hours in Bucky walked back to you and Steve as Clint was at the controls though the bad snow storm.

"Hey how's she doing."

"Terrified to be moved Buck how come you didn't notice?"

"Well I we - He knows her better."

"She said nothing and just laid there I thought it was because we asked her about holiday things. You know how she gets." Clint said

"Yea" Steve said with some sorrow knowing exactly how it feels being an orphan. Everyone is at some point but sometimes it happens when you're old enough to not have the legality of needing a guardian but too young to be ok on your own….. When that happens and you don't have anyone there... it's even worse.

Clint was thinking that too. He had learned about that and Nat trusted you and he did trust you too so after seeing you so upset, even though you hid it well he saw, everytime people brought up holidays plans to the point you'd sometimes leave the room he had a discussion with Laura and that was that you were an unofficial official Barton.

He was looking forward to the ugly Christmas sweaters the family did. The kids made you a star one it was more pretty than ugly they always do ugly sweater party and a gingerbread contest of who can make the craziest gingerbread house without it collapsing- even if it ended in a super fueled family. And making cookies for Santa. You loved being able to help Clint and Laura put presents under the tree for the kids. It was something you never did but he senses it was more than that more than- it was like you were apart of his family. Like you were his little sister he helped raise or his own child. He dreaded having to tell his kids you were hurt and couldn't come this year. Nat and Laura could help him tell them but still for the past 5 years you'd been a staple in thier family around the holidays It wouldn't be the same without you. You were his family as much as anyone else.

Getting close to the tower Steve woke up gentle by stroaking your cheek and softly kissing you on your temple. You blinked you eyes open and saw him sweetly looking down at you and smiling. For a moment you forgot where you were, outside of Cap's, no outside of Steve's arms that is.

"We're about to dock sweetheart. I got you. His hold on."

The quinjet docked less than a minute later and the cargo bay door opened

The med team was waiting and you felt so bad.

"Actually,"

You sat up and sort of jumped out if Steve's arms as much you could considering the , gentle hold he had on you "I'm good." leaving the three men in shock

"Please," you looked at Bucky and Clint "I was not going wear that monstrosity that you considered putting a dead squirrel on."

"You mean-"

"She just-"

"Damn-"

"She needs to spend less time with Natasha."

"Steve are we sparring tonight or what?" You winked.

"We're shipping out in a few-" Clint yelled out "It's like I already have an adult teenage child." He murmured to himself.

"Oh right shit Steve I need some help with something" you had to get all the presents carried and why do it when Steve can? And you can stare at his biceps as he is holding everything at once

Steve jogged up to meet you. Besids he had a bone to pick.

"You scared the shit out if me I thought I'd be spending the whole night in sickbay with you or worse"

"Nope. They wanted us to kiss. I had to do something. Otherwise they had a bad plan"

"What?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Apprently you talked too much about me to Clint!" You pinched him

"Well how else am I supposed to figure out a gift?"

"Ask me what I want you dumbell"

Steve stopped you in the hallway.

"What do you want?"

"A kiss." You smile.

"Well that I can give you right now."

Clint decided there and then he was going to lock Lila up until she was 50 years old. If he can't handle you kissing a boy, Captain America the probably nicest and most respectful guy on the earth, he's never going to be able to handle Lila and boys. Nope. He was going to lock her in her room after Christmas. He was considering even locking you in there too.

@taglist

@nana1000night @sapphire-rogers @patzammit @sparklybarbarianninja @coltrainbat

[s3a-s1ug]

Mmm after 3 seperate breakdowns with 20 minute breaks in between im in questionable mood, my eyes are still burning from tears so i will use my fragile state of mind to request a fear and hunger nsfw scenerio... fic... thing?

How about Ragnvaldr × Cahara? I know its a joke in the fandom that Cahara is a size queen for all the fucked up reasons you can imagine, but from the ingame art to fanart, he seems kinda like a hoe ngl. I know he has a wife but come on, let a girl dream. Basically the fic would be in the canon setting of the game, and the two would meet as normal, but Ragnvaldr notices that Cahara attempted to steal his shit. However, instead of getting mad and kicking Cahara on his merry way in the dungeon, he decides to keep a close eye on him. The dungeon is a dangerous place and its always good to have more hands for weapons.

One thing leads to another, you'll be the judge of that, and they end up sharing a bed. And Cahara once again proves himself to be untrustworthy by feeling around in Ragnvaldr's pockets. But what he touches isnt his pocket, unfortunately.

God I hate myself. Its 4 am, i need to sleep

Oh and also happy christmas

“The Thief’s Tricks”

Cahara x Ragnvaldr Fic - Part One

༺☆༻

THIS REQUEST SAVED ME!!! This is actually so fun. The next part should be out soon! I’m that case enjoy!!! …and merry Christmas to you too..? Time is a construct I guess.

༺☆༻

The prisons. The heavy oppressive nature of the sights to be seen in there would shake anyone to their core. Bloodied empty prison cells captured the true horrors of what happened to its unfortunate prisoners. All for except one.

“…hey…hey big guy..!”

Ragnvaldr stopped in his tracks and locked into the prison cell. A man with dark messy hair on the other side. He seemed to be in shape but he looked very tired. Bags under his eyes. He gave a tired smile

“Look.. I’ll give it to you straight… I’m in a tough one here and I could REALLY use your help. You look strong. You think you could get me outta here..?” He asked with a hint of desperation in his voice

Ragnvaldr analyzed the man on the other side of the bars. Could he be trusted?…then again…the dungeons are very dangerous and it could be better to traverse them with some help…

“Hmm… what is your name?”

“Cahara..! Of the south.”

“Ragnvaldr. If I were to help you out of here you will have to help me too.”

“Oh?”

“I am on a quest to find a person..and kill him. He is long way down these dungeons so if you are willing I could use the help.”

The mercenary didn’t even give himself time to think and answered immediately

“Yeah sure! I’ll help. I’d say I’m a pretty useful asset. Im a mercenary so I think I could be of good help.

Ragnvaldr only nodded in agreement. He held the bars of the cell. They were rusty and worn out but sturdy enough to keep someone from getting out. He gripped the bars and slowly separated two of them to make an opening for Cahara to get out.

“Woah…damn…you ARE strong..!” He said in awe. A little intimidated even.

“Ja. But you must promise me one thing. You will not deceive me. Since I have helped you, you must return the favor.” He held out his hand for Cahara to shake

“Yeah sure thing”

Cahara shook his hand then brought him into…a hug..?

“I can’t thank ya enough, man. I mean it”

Ragnvaldr was taken aback by this. He swore he felt something in his pocket but before he could react Cahara pulled off from the hug and smiled

“Well I’d assume you know the way?”

“U-uh ja. Follow me” He said with a hint of confusion. He was still cautious mainly due to Cahara’s “off” vibe.

They walked for a bit trying to find their way out of the prisons. Multiple corners were turned in silence. Ragnvaldr went to grab for something in his pocket but…it was gone… he stopped in his tracks. Cahara, who was pretty far behind him now, stopped us well, pretty taken aback.

“Cahara.” Ragnvaldr said sternly, not looking at him

Cahara seemed nervous

“Uh, yeah..?”

“Give it back. You took it.”

“Took what? I wouldn’t steal anything from you. Uh promise! I’m here to help after all heh”

Ragnvaldr turned around and looked at Cahara. He walked up to him and grabbed Cahara’s wrist.

“Give. It. Back.” He squeezed Cahara’s wrist tightly while giving him a stern glare

Cahara gulped. He was in a tight spot. Cahara was in no way weak. He had a fine build and could try to fight back but… that probably wouldn’t last long.

Cahara sighed. He shuffled through his pocket using his other hand and grumbled pulling the vials out and giving them to Ragnvaldr

He let go of Cahara’s wrist

“You made a promise. Next time I won’t be so forgiving. As it may seem I actually need to help. So don’t try this again”

Cahara nodded silently, clearly getting the message.

“You will walk by my side. You’re very sneaky. This will not happen again.”

Ragnvaldr turned around again and continued walking with Cahara catching up to his side silently

‘Damn this guy is tough. Really tough. I don’t want to stay here but I did promise… if there was just a way I could find to leave…hmm’

They walked for a good long while, encountered some enemies, nothing too bad, but it was beginning to get grueling

Cahara yawned and groaned loudly

“Ughhhh… man how long have we been walkin for? My legs are starting to sore….”

“…hmm…ja I suppose we have been walking for… a while” Ragnvaldr didn’t say it but even he was starting to feel tired “well perhaps there is a room nearby, keep a look out”

They walked for another long while until reaching a small stone room. Wasn’t much in it. A tattered rug, cabinet with some old drinks, and one singular bed. Cahara slightly glanced at Ragnvaldr

“Soooo…um… should I like… sleep on the floor? Or..”

“Nej, we will share it. We both need rest. We will make do”

“Oh..! Alright then”

This was certainly gonna be…interesting.

To be continued…

༺☆༻

Next part will be NSFW muahahah so stayed tuned!!!!

☆〜（ゝ。∂）

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Heartbeat(1997)-Watching Con O'Neill's old stuff cause it's fun. Day #? REX HAWKINS!

Heartbeat S07-Ep.16 The Queen’s Message

Should you watch this? 

It’s fun, you don’t need context for the series, and its a full story. Fun for what it is. Con in this is wet and pathetic. It’s 50 minutes, and another one-off thing. Not as fun as Pie in the Sky, still a good time. 

As always, thanks to my mutual Con lovers! If you haven't watched it, skip this, as always! I hope everyone has a great week!

@dianetastesmetal @gydima @ivegotnonameidea @treesofgreen @vicsuragi

That was his milk! Fucking rude.

How about we never borrow money ever again! Why is it so easy to get in debt with the mob? Maybe it's my small-town roots showing, but damn.

Also, I’m jealous, why does Con's characters get choked out so often? That and the gun thing!

Are we allowed to hate the cops in this one, 'cause I already do

This had to have been made in the 90s

THIS IS THE DOCTOR ONE!!!!! The one where Con is in that white coat?

How are half the people in this looking like its still the 60s, love interest’s hair is interesting

Help Calude! He’s just an old guy, Jesus lady. 

The most homeless-looking man with a homeless-looking dog. 

G-man(half-life) Con Look

Who embroiders a Doctor’s jacket like that, it looks a mechanics smock 

This is Cons character from ‘Vengeance is Mine’s backstory.

Con is named Rex Hawkings yeah?

HE’S A MECHANIC!?! Oh, he’s a handyman. 

WHEN DOES THIS SHOW TAKE PLACE? Color TV’s? Weren’t they common in the 90s?

OH GOOD! HE’S NOT HOMELESS

That's a lil gremlin dog

Okay, the poor guy broke his antique, Rex sings in a choir and has a few ladies after him, then got shoved down the steps. A cop is suspicious of his motives

Weird hat lady totally influenced someone to push Rex.

Oh, Nevil did it with ladies' help, cool

THE CHIN STRAPS ON BOBBY HELMETS AHHHH

'LOL BAXTER'. Oh to be named Lol. That is a bard DND name begging to be stolen.

Her eyelashes bug me a bit, and I have no clue why.

Lol is waiting at Rex’s shop, great, lets have the mom be a witness.

“You finger me, you tell the cops?” EXCUSE ME? Is that what Lol just said?

The amount Con is able to spit in every role he’s in shocks me.

Calling the cops won't do shit babe, he's being strangled right now.

Oh Good, another Con character who knows to be careful with what you say to the cops

I feel for the homeless-looking guy, he’s just not given any slack. 

Shit, well, damn. Rex is kinda fucked. 

Oh good, you need to swindle a shit ton of people to make the money back. Lovely situation you got going on there Rex. 

He’s not too careful about not being seen near Rex in public, is Lol. 

The fact they kept a dog quiet that long in the back of a car is shocking. Also, clown car. That was like 12 guys.

HHALKJSDAHS Looney Tunes run into a door trick

Haaahakjlja Fucking love him, smashes the antique, great

Well, at least Rex got to sing at the thing at least. To an audience of fifteen or so people.  

HAAAAAAAAhahaha they replaced his part with a child!!!! 

I thought the Queen's Speech was also done through the radio, that’s the whole thing. Let the public hear it. 

You know, I want this same setup, but Con’s character is like, way more of a dangerous criminal. Not an incidental criminal, but has to keep up these two lives

Con’s panicking is very funning

It is obvious that he just wants protection

“Will that do?” *SMASHES PHONE.* He’s dumb and way too scared to survive prison. 

 LOL IS IN LOCKED IN THE SAME JAIL CELL AS RALPH!!!!!

That feels illegal. In so many ways. 

Oh look, they’re vibin. 

Scared Con is always kind of fun. 

God I don’t know most Christmas carols, huh. 

Whelp, Rex is imprisoned with the same guy who was threatening his life, and everything else is back to normal.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Overall, not bad. I watched this one with the brother, so my commentary was a bit more sparse this time. We made a ton of ‘Vengeance is Mine’ x ‘This show’ jokes, which was very fun. I swear, he remembers that movie better than I do which was funny. My favorite joke being that guns magically respawn around Con's characters, and he just needs to find a kit. Go out and get rid of Lol.

This is one of the few characters where Con got to be scared as shit without any way to fight back. It’s funny that the whole plot revolves around Rex being kind of a piece of shit, and the cops don’t care. It doesn't really work for me.

Seriously, he rented out broken TVs. Which is scummy, yeah, but not the worst thing, and it’s not like he did it on purpose! You know how many broken LED TVs get returned every holiday season? It’s kinda normal for a ton of them to be shit. I guess he’s also kinda a dick for getting that one guy kicked out of the church choir, but it wasn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. Idk, I was a bit more sympathetic to Rex than I was supposed to be? But that’s kinda common for these shows with Con being a guest star. Especially when he’s as pathetic as Rex is. 

I have no idea what this whole show is about. If the cops are the main focus or not. I liked the poor guy, he was generally fun. Everyone else just felt vaguely off putting. Might just be the dated lingo, this came out in 1997’ so… 

CON: 8/10. Really fun. Wet, pathetic, and this is one of his earlier roles, like 1 or 2 years after Pie in the Sky and Soldier Soldier. Cool for him to morally be a wrong and not an actual threat to anybody. His singing was great, and he gave a solid performance. Scared little rat man.

It’s dated, and it feels like it’s from its time. Generally, I don’t like town gossip stories and that is what this is. I wonder how this all ties into the rest of the show, but I have no want to go find out. Not bad though. 

(I also used my Con drinking game for this, and was well-hydrated!)

Solid 7-8/10. Great time!