#and my grandson! child of my dead???? daughter??????

[winepresswrath]

sudden yearning for time travelling teen jiang fengmian lands at lotus pier fic that winds up being about a perfectly nice kid having a varying series of "oh no. i don't like that. that's a lot" reactions.

[meistoshi]

akiyoshi sr & akiyoshi double-sr when i find you--

[eve-reviews]

ㅤ Once Upon a Time is a thirteen-year old’s fanfiction that was found by the creators of Lost and stolen for a show in hopes of making some money off the teen population. If the half-formed faux-edgy characters or bad acting doesn’t sell you on just how poorly this show was made, the terrible CGI definitely will. The first season revolves around a character named Emma Swan, aka The Savior, coming to the town of Storybrooke where her son tries to convince her that the town is actually full of fairytale characters that are under a memory erasing spell. The show has a way of making you forget that you’re watching a fairytale story until later you realize that “Oh! They just had Prince Charming cheat on his wife with Snow White. And then The Evil Queen framed Snow White for the murder of Prince Charming’s wife by hiding that wife’s heart in a box in the place Snow and Charming would always meet.”

ㅤ While the first season seems Wild, each subsequent season tries to outdo itself. The following seasons follow a clear formula constantly trying to convince you that it’s a good show. The creator’s favorite persuasion is to twist the usual fairytale stories and then play a dramatic stinger underneath it as if to convince the viewer to say, “oh shit!” Each time it makes this attempt, I am met with an intense feeling, but not the intended one. It’s a burst of laughter, a burn of secondhand embarrassment, and the impulse to share it with a friend so I don’t have to go through it alone (and may I say, I think my friends are starting to get sick of me).

            The show is held together by attempts to be a show that makes the viewer sit at the edge of the seat waiting to see what happens next. These attempts often involve corrupting or redeeming a “good” or “evil” character respectively. While the show constantly brings in numerous characters from Disney movies or any other existing story for that matter (such as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, or 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea), it seems to forget this sometimes, so we are left with characters who have been corrupted and redeemed 6 times alone (in Rumpelstiltskin’s case).

            Might I also add that the show often does a twist saying that two fairytale characters were actually the same one. If we take Rumpelstiltskin as an example again, he is at least three different characters off the top of my head. He also happens to be the Crocodile from Peter Pan and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast. This isn’t even counting the family tree. Please feel free to skip the rest of this paragraph while I sort that out. Rumpelstiltskin is the son of Peter Pan (who’s evil) and the Black Fairy (who’s the origin of all evil or something?). He has a grandson, Henry, who is also the grandson of Snow White and Prince Charming. Henry also happens to be the adopted son of Regina, aka The Evil Queen. Regina if the daughter of the Queen of hearts and the sister of the Wicked Witch of the West. She’s also Snow White’s step-mother. Regina also happens to be soulmates with Robin Hood, who’s previous wife was sentenced to death by Regina before the curse. And Robin also had a daughter with the Wicked Witch but he didn’t know it was her at the time because she was pretending to be his dead wife.

            I’m stopping myself there. If you read any of that, you now hopefully know how complicated the lore is and how near impossible it is to explain. You may have also gleaned how fucking stupid it is. That was all just a small section of the family tree. The actual lore of this show involves people who are definitively good or evil (but they can be redeemed) and authors who are all powerful gods who control Everything but are also just Some Guy. And of course, a being of pure light magic called The Savior (Emma Swan aka Snow White and Prince Charming’s child) and a being of pure dark magic called The Dark One (Rumplestiltskin). I forced myself through the show. High out of my mind if I had to. And I gotta say, folks.

            I kinda love this show.

            At some point it starts to get confusing what the creators were thinking while making this show. You drive yourself crazy trying to put yourself in their heads. Do they know how dogshit it is? Are they trying to convince me this dogshit is actually fucking ratatouille? Or do they know it’s bad?

            By the end of season 6, I started to get the feeling that the writers had finally decided to accept that no one in the universe would consider this a good show; however, the show must go on so they may as well have fun with it. They finally left behind the attempts and just leaned into how bizarre the lore they’re spun truly is. They timeskip and they say. “Hey. We know that we’ve gone too far. We know we crossed a line somewhere along the way. But buddy? We’re not turning around. We’re gonna find throw back some brewskis and have a little fun.” And they decide to say that, “Actually? All those characters you just saw? The seemingly infinite number of them? That’s just the start. They’re just one of an actually infinite number of that same character that exists in the multiverse. We’re gonna make a new main character and she’s gonna be Cinderella. Yes, I know we already introduced Cinderella in season one. But this is a different Cinderella. From a different thirteen tear old’s fanfiction. “

            And so it becomes a show that clearly knows it’s bad. And I sit there and realize I had fun. And I realize that I’m still having fun. And I realize that that was the point. I spent the whole show taking everything so seriously, and for that, I partially blame the show for taking itself seriously. But somewhere along the way, the show stopped. And I followed suit shortly after. And it was fun.

            I loved watching Once Upon a Time.

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (54)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence, character death ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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Aemond was awakened by a loud female scream. He pulled himself up on the bed convinced that it was a dream and involuntarily reached his hand to his side, instinctively wanting to check that his wife and their child in her womb were safe.

He froze feeling the cold bedding under his fingers and turned his terrified gaze in that direction. He looked around the chamber, his heart pounding like mad.

Where was she?

He heard a sudden commotion outside his chamber door, the raised voices of the guards, the clack of their armour and blades. He rose quickly from his bed, putting on his trousers and chemise in a hurry, and ran out of his room without even putting on his eyepatch, bumping into a terrified Aegon.

"What's wrong?" He asked quickly, following him, he saw that the door to Helaena's and their children's rooms was wide open.

"I don't know, she said she'd be back in a moment, that she'd just check on the children." He mumbled as he stepped inside, both of them squinting, not seeing much in the darkness.

It took Aemond a moment to notice the silhouettes kneeling on the floor, he could hear the loud sobbing of Aegon's daughter and the loud breathing of the other two women.

He moved quickly forward spotting his wife, infuriated, lifting her upright.

"What are you doing here? Why did you leave my chamber?" He asked furiously shaking her, but she didn't look at him only sideways, her mouth wide open, her gaze terrified, her whole body trembling.

It was only a moment later that he heard the miserable wail of his brother as he fell beside his sister-wife, pressing his face against something pale lying on the floor.

Only after a while did he recognise his nephew's face in it.

He felt his heart pounding like mad, for a moment he was unaware of what was going on around him, he clenched his hands tightly on his wife's shoulders and pressed her to him, wanting to be sure that nothing would happen to her as long as he held her close.

"Floris is dead. Someone cut her throat." She whispered so quietly that he barely heard her. "They mistook her for me."

He felt his whole body tremble in a powerful shudder, his throat constricted, his lips tightened. He felt like he was having trouble breathing, he didn't hear the shouts of his mother, who came running to them hearing the commotion, he didn't hear the words of Ser Criston telling him that they were all to move to the Small Council room until the guards had searched the entire keep and made sure everyone was safe.

He, his wife, Otto, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, their daughter and Royce sat in sepulchral silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts, no one daring to speak. He stroked his chin in a nervous gesture looking ahead with a blank stare, terrified, furious.

"I told you not to wait." Aegon whispered, his face covered by his hands. "I said to burn that whore at once along with her children in Dragonstone when we had the chance."

He said, but no one answered him. Otto raised an eyebrow, tapping his finger on the table.

"I know that I am no longer the Hand of the King, however, after today's events we are faced with a problem that must be solved. After the death of my great-grandson, the line of succession has changed anew. In order to maintain your right to the throne over Rhaenyra your successor must be a male. So, for the moment, the direct heir to the Iron Throne is Aemond, and if his wife gives birth to a son, he will be next in the line of succession until Helaena gives birth to another son herself." He said coldly, and he shivered all over, glancing at his wife out of the corner of his eye, her face shocked and terrified, her hands clenched on her womb trembling all over.

She looked at him and he knew they were thinking the same thing.

He had craved this so much all his life, but now that it was at his fingertips he felt nothing but fear.

The realisation that she was going to die that night, that she was the one he was going to find in the morning with her throat cut didn't allow him to think or reflect on anything, he felt stunned and empty, as if something had burst inside him.

Why had she left without his knowledge?

By what right was she walking alone in the keep at night?

He shuddered as Aegon's voice snapped him out of the advancing darkness and fume that was engulfing his mind.

"Must we speak of this now that my son is dead? Because of you, because of your plotting, because of your fucking greed! Fucking Otto Hightower, The King without a Crown!" He roared across the room so that everyone looked at him in horror, no one daring to speak or move.

Aemond had never seen him like this before.

Aegon leaned over the table, slapping his finger against his chest. He was smiling, tears were running down his face, Helaena touched his arm in a gesture of comfort.

"This was my child. My first-born son. And all you think about is the fucking Iron Throne, the succession. Go and sit on it, put Aegon the Conqueror's crown on your head, all knowing that you're probably getting hard just thinking about it! Fucking old fool!" He growled; Helaena tried to silence and calm him, trembling herself.

Everyone looked towards the entrance when the door opened, Cole and several other guards stepped inside.

"In Lady Baratheon's chamber we found the body of her sister, Floris. Our suspicions have been confirmed, the hired assassin probably mistook them for each other." He said, and Aemond swallowed loudly, running his hand over his face. He felt his wife's fingers on his thigh.

She was going to die.

She and their child.

He would sit alone, there would be an empty seat next to him.

He felt a powerful shiver run through him and he struggled to restrain himself not to vomit.

"My beloved, calm down." She whispered to him and he looked at her with eyes filled with the desire to slaughter her.

"We will talk in our chamber." He hissed coldly and she swallowed loudly, looking at him horrified.

After an hour, they decided that Aegon and Helaena needed to rest before taking drastic measures and moved the council meeting to the morning.

As soon as they left the hall Aemond grabbed his wife firmly by her arm and dragged her into their chamber with a brutality that terrified her. She squealed loudly as he literally shoved her inside, closing the door with a slam, five armed guards stood outside their chamber.

He could see that she was looking at him with fear, her whole body was trembling, clutching the spot on her arm that he had squeezed so painfully tight a moment ago. He approached her looking down at her.

"Did I let you leave my chamber?" He asked lowly and she opened her mouth slowly, her lower lip trembling as she tried to coax out an answer.

"I just wanted to…"

"DID I LET YOU LEAVE MY CHAMBER?!" He growled grabbing her cheeks with his hand so hard she sobbed in pain, tears streaming down her face, she looked at him pleadingly, breathing fast and unevenly, terrified.

"I asked you a simple fucking question." He hissed, his fingers dug hard into her skin and she squealed in pain.

"− no - I'm sorry − I'm sorry −" She mumbled out with difficulty, shaking with dread and terror, he could see in her gaze that she didn't recognise him and was afraid of him.

He felt his jaw tremble in the realisation that he might have lost her, that she might have come across the man who had cut her sister's throat, and if he had seen her and realised his fatal mistake, he would have finished his work.

He felt like he was falling into a black, endless abyss of madness at that thought.

"− I have given you too much freedom - you will never again leave my chamber without my permission − do you understand? −" He growled, shaking her head aggressively, and she nodded quickly, sobbing quietly, clenching her eyes, tears streaming down her red face.

He looked at her, at the face of his beloved wife who had just carried his offspring under her heart, and began to wonder what he was actually doing.

He let her go suddenly, frightened by the realisation of what he had done, looking at her with wide eyes, and she moved away from him clutching her cheeks, looking at him with fear and pain, so frightened that she dared not move from her place.

He turned and walked over to the table on which the jug of wine stood feeling as if it was all a dream. He had the impression that everything around him was a blur and trembling, and with difficulty he grabbed the ear of the jug and poured himself a full cup.

He grasped it, pressing it to his lips and drank its entire contents greedily hearing the mother of his child struggling to breathe behind his back.

She needed him, and he was unable to give her comfort, being devastated himself.

He felt that something had crumbled inside him, leaving only shards of him that he didn't know what to do with. He realised that as long as his whore sister was alive, he would never sleep a peaceful night again.

He glanced over his shoulder hearing a quiet rustling and saw his wife lay down on their bed like a ghost. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, lying with her back to him, her whole body quivering.

He approached her slowly pulled by some incomprehensible, subconscious urge, lay down behind her back and embraced her, placing his hands on her womb, drawing her close, melting his face into her hair. She did not reciprocate his gesture.

"Forgive me. I'm terrified." He whispered and heard her swallow hard, breathing with difficulty.

"I'm terrified too. But as always, when I need you, when I am at my most vulnerable, you are hurting me." She mumbled, pressing her face into the pillow, trying to pull away from him. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her back.

"I know. I know, my sweetest. Forgive me."

But this time she didn't forgive him.

He knew he had crossed a line, that he had irretrievably destroyed something.

He felt empty.

She meekly obeyed his order and did not leave his chamber, asking her servants to bring her books, which she then read. She did not speak or look up to him, did not reciprocate his touch or gaze.

He knew he had failed her.

He tried to make it right, but he didn't know what to say, what words would make up for what he had done to her, how he had treated her. He knew she didn't deserve it, that he had poured all his rage and fear at her when she needed him to just embrace her.

The familiar feeling of shame that he remembered so well from his childhood filled his chest and he felt like he had regressed to a state before he met her.

The only thing that had changed for the better was his relationship with Aegon.

The two of them, united by their grief and unhappiness, had discussed for hours in the Small Council chamber how to end the matter of the Blacks once and for all.

His brother was unable to recover from the death of his son, but his and his sister's grief brought them even closer together, he knew that Helaena and their daughter spent every night in his chamber.

He, unlike him, was able to show them care, to protect them when they needed it. He did not understand how it was possible that suddenly their roles were reversed, and it was his own wife who refused to look at his face, sad and pale.

They both knew that Rhaenyra was only waiting for them to make a move, knowing that they would want revenge, but they understood that they could not act rashly, that they had to wait for the right moment.

The advantage of strength was still on their side.

He watched from the sidelines as his wife's abdomen swelled from his child, she had increasing difficulty moving and bending over as she helped him bathe. She continued to do this despite not speaking to him.

The thought that she was preserving their ritual was the only thing keeping him over the edge of despair.

However, one day when he entered their chamber, seeing that a tub full of hot water filled with his favourite oils was waiting for him as usual, he suddenly got an idea and decided that this was the way to show her what he had been feeling for the past long weeks.

"From now on, I'll be the one to help you bathe, if you'll let me." He said softly. She gasped and looked at him surprised, the first time in a long time he had noticed a sparkle in her gaze.

She swallowed quietly, pressing her lips together and tilted her head as if considering his words. She nodded.

He approached her without a word and reached up to untie her sleeves, slowly helping her pull off all the layers of her gown. When she was left in her nightgown he slipped it off her looking at her body, her gaze downcast, thoughtful.

He lifted her chin with a gentle movement, forcing her to look at him. He was silent for a moment, looking into her bright eyes filled with sadness.

"I will always love you." He whispered with difficulty, feeling his voice break and tremble, betraying his desperation, his longing, his overwhelming remorse.

She pressed her lips together at his words, her brow arching in pain, her eyes turning red. He ran his finger over her lower lip, and she put her hand over his for the first time since that night.

He drew her to him and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her almost tentatively, holding her cheeks, which he then squeezed so tightly, with tenderness and gentleness in his large hands, wanting to make up to her for what he had done, to show her that he didn't want this at all, that what she was experiencing now was what he really desired.

Her hands tightened on his wrists, her lips brushed his, enveloping his skin with her warm breath, giving him the sign that he could continue, that this time she would not reject him. He felt a tightening in his lower abdomen, having not experienced fulfilment with her for weeks he hungered for her closeness.

He took her in his arms and laid her on the bed with her back to him, laying behind her, untying the bindings of his trousers. Before he entered her he caressed her for a long time with his fingers, his lips pressed against hers the whole time, sucking and licking them, taking his time, wanting to show her that this time it was her fulfilment that was most important.

Only when she came under his hand, when her sticky moisture spilled over his fingers did he dare to slide inside her, his movements slow and steady, deep, filled with desire for closeness, tenderness. He sped up, tightening his hand on her hip only when they were both beginning to pant, her walls started to clench rhythmically again, bringing her closer to another fulfilment.

He cummed inside her with a loud sigh of relief, holding her warm body close, his face snuggled into her neck. Her hand stroked his arm reassuringly as his soft member continued to throb inside her, they both laid enjoying their closeness after so many days of cruel separation due to his fault.

Then he lifted her body gently, carrying her to the bathtub filled with not so hot water anymore, laying her comfortably in it, slowly and unhurriedly repeating all the steps she always did. He washed her hair, stroked and rubbed her body and found some solace in this, a way of showing how much he needed her, how significant she was to him.

He did this every day from then on.

He didn't tell her about his and Aegon's plans, what they discussed behind closed doors. He was afraid that if she found out, she would lose their child out of fear.

Now that he was Hand of the King he had more responsibilities and he tried to perform them as best he could, but they both knew that as long as the Usurper lived they would not have peace.

He knew that by now the news must have reached her that her assassin had made a mistake, that his wife was still alive. Aegon was heartbroken when it emerged that the person who had let in the man who murdered his son was the maid he had once raped.

She had been sentenced to death after maintaining on torture that no one else had helped her, but his brother-king knew that this made him partly to blame for what had happened.

He changed, but he did so far too late.

Many things were irretrievably lost and could no longer be repaired.

The marriage of Royce and Lord Greyjoy's granddaughter in the Great Sept sealed the Greyjoys' alliance with the Greens. For safety reasons, the nuptials and wedding were not as lavish as originally planned, though there was concern that Rhaenyra would want to take advantage of the concentration of so many people in one place. His wife struggled to endure the entire ceremony standing up, clinging to his arm for support.

He thought that while Royce did not look happy, he did not look heartbroken either, and neither did his wife. They seemed to him to be fashioned from the same clay, direct but essentially warm and strong. Although he would never tell him this, he wished them to succeed. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his wife thinking about what he was going to do that night and felt a tightening in his stomach.

Rhaenyra had not suspected they would attack her on the day of the wedding.

The Greyjoy ships had already set sail late in the evening, going out to meet the Velaryon fleet lurking near Dragonstone.

He had left his wife during the feast telling her that he and his brother still needed to discuss a few things, and she simply believed him.

She smiled at him, since they were close again trying not to fall into despair. She blinked and popped up, surprised when he suddenly leaned over her and kissed her in the presence of everyone gathered, holding her cheeks in his hands and not letting her go for a long moment.

He pulled away from her and looked at her for a moment with a pounding heart, the surprise mingled with desire on her face.

"You know that I love you." He whispered, and she furrowed her brow, sensing that something was wrong, hearing that there was something strange and unsettling in his voice.

"Of course. I love you too, my beloved." She mumbled, and he hummed under his breath, let her go and stood up, heading for the entrance, his brother standing up right behind him.

He tried not to think about the fact that he wanted to cry.

Helaena had promised him that if he and their brother did not return, if Rhaenyra crushed them, she would take his wife, her daughter and their mother and flee to Essos on dragon's back.

All or nothing.

When they went down to the underground everything was ready, their servants were already waiting with their armours, which they quickly helped them put on. According to the plan they were to reach Dragonstone with their fleet, Aemond had to go behind Dragon's Pit, to the hill where Vhagar was resting.

He felt surprisingly calm.

As he took to the skies on his dragoness, when he saw the starry sky above him he imagined for reassurance that Daeron was flying beside him, as when they were heading for Eyrie. He glanced to the side and saw in the distance the silhouette of Sunfyre heading ahead in the darkness.

Two dragons against four.

He figured he had to deal with Rhaenys and Rhaenyra first.

Luke and Baela in Vhagar's eyes were mere dust.

They noticed as cannonballs and their fire began to light up the sea below them, the great battle of the fleets had begun, the Greyjoys had gone on the attack, taking the completely unprepared enemy by surprise. He spotted the silhouette of the Dragonstone in the distance and ordered Vhagar to breathe fire.

He hoped they would burn in their beds.

Their guards and their army tried to shoot him and his brother down with crossbows, but they anticipated this and kept at a sufficiently high distance. Looking at them, he thought of Borros and his wife, of how they wanted to cut her throat, to kill her while she was carrying his child, and he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids, a rage, a hatred.

A madness.

He had a feeling that with the wave of fire from Vhagar's maw hitting the great stone fortress he was also releasing what he had always feared, but now, in this moment, he felt at last that he didn't have to be in his senses at all, that he didn't have to pretend anymore.

He laughed out loud, amused to hear the screams and cries of the Blacks soldiers, Sunfyre's fire completing the job and sweeping them away into the dust. He turned his head sideways when he spotted Meleys hovering in the air and immediately moved to meet her, unwilling to let her reach their fleet.

Pillars of fire from the mouths of their dragons collided with each other, then again and again, lighting up the black night sky with a warm glow. He saw Syrax and Moondancer flying behind her, but could not see Luke anywhere.

He thought she didn't want to lose another son, but he was sure he would take his life with his own hands that very night.

Aegon flew to his aid, flying above him, preventing Rhaenyra and Baela from attacking Vhagar from several directions.

The last Dance of the Dragons had begun.

The claws of Meleys clamped down on Vhagar's body, his dragoness let out a loud, furious roar of pain, almost throwing him off the saddle, he struggled to hold on to the thick ropes, trying to catch his balance.

He had lost control of her completely.

Vhagar threw herself at Meleys, who nimbly and quickly began to flee, burning the ships of the Greyjoy fleet along the way. Aemond ordered Vhagar to breathe fire, but it did nothing, Meleys was faster and lighter than her, Vhagar was unable to keep up with her.

He turned over his shoulder and saw the uneven fight Aegon was facing, Syrax and Moondancer attacking him from both sides. He saw his brother's face surrounded by flames and thought of Daeron.

He thought he would not lose another brother.

With a loud yell, he ordered Vhagar to turn back, tugging hard on the ropes and to his surprise, she obeyed him, changing course, turning back towards Sunfyre.

Syrax rushed at him in an attempt to shield Baela, fire escaped from her throat, however Vhagar opened her maw and clamped her fangs on the dragoness' flesh, tearing her apart, her squeals of pain echoing around them.

Moondancer rushed to her rescue, but Aegon blocked her path, forcing her to flee, Meleys coming towards them from the south, but there was nothing more she could do.

He watched with wild, frenzied satisfaction as Rhaenyra tangled in the saddle of her dragoness fell into the water with her, sinking into the depths of the sea.

He laughed happily, lightly, feeling that he had completely lost his mind, instead of grief and sadness he felt relief.

His sister-whore was dead.

He heard Rhaenys shouting to Baela, most likely telling her to turn back, knowing the case was lost, wanting to take Rhaena from Dragonstone and escape on dragon's back to Driftmark.

He thought he would never let that happen and set off after them in pursuit, Sunfyre right by his side. He glanced sideways at Aegon, the adrenaline must have stunned him at the pain, his whole face was covered in red burns, part of his skin was living flesh.

This time Meleys' focus was not on escaping, but on protecting Baela - and that was her mistake.

Sunfyre and Vhagar had a true feast that night.

When it was all over, when everything was a foregone conclusion, when they had burned the Velaryon fleet fleeing in terror, the Greyjoys stormed into Dragonstone.

Without the powerful army of the Starks and Arryns, their soldiers were defenceless.

He and Aegon landed side by side on the great stone bridge, Aegon fell from his saddle, only close up did Aemond see that his burns were in worse condition than he had originally assumed, his brother was unable to open his eyes.

"Take him to the Red Keep and treat him immediately. Protect your king." He ordered his soldiers, and he set off towards the stone fortress, wanting to do what he had always dreamed of doing.

He knew that Rhaenyra had surely envisaged a way out in the event of such a situation, that now it would be Luke who would claim his rights wherever he ran.

He had to end this once and for all.

He went inside with his soldiers, ordering them to search the underground, confident that they would try to escape through some secret passage.

He was not mistaken.

As he stepped into the room they had been brought into, Luke shielded Rhaena and Joffrey with his own body, as if to show him that he had courage in him, that he was not a coward. He laughed at this sight, spreading his arms as if to embrace him, the blood of the soldiers of the Blacks on his face, his dagger in his hand.

"My Lord Strong. Should I call you king now that your mother-whore is dead? Bring me her the crown." He growled to the Greyjoy vassal, one of the soldiers finding the golden crown his father wore in the things they were trying to escape with.

As if having it made him truly the heir to the throne.

Aemond smiled as the man handed him the object. He looked at it from all sides, and hummed under his breath as he approached him, Luke stepped back, horror on his face.

Aemond raised his hands and, with feigned reverence, placed the crown on his head. It was too big for him, it slid halfway down his forehead.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen a more pathetic sight.

"Lucerys Strong, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He exclaimed wistfully, laughing loudly as he looked around the room, the men surrounding him watching what was happening with curiosity and amusement.

Luke broke into tears.

He looked at him, not being able to believe that he was crying like a little, scared child.

He was afraid of death.

For a second he felt a sting in his chest, his throat squeezed tight.

He snorted, chasing the thought away, ridding himself of the remnants of conscience that still remained in his heart.

He threw his dagger at his feet with a nochalant movement.

"Before I kill you, I want you to put out your eye, as a payment for mine. I plan to make a gift to my mother."

By the time he returned to King's Landing on Vhagar, the sun was already rising. He looked at the outline of the Red Keep, his armour and hands, his hair, all dirty in blood, dust and sweat.

He felt free, he felt at peace at last, and although he knew that the screams and cries he heard that night would haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life, he explained to himself that he had done the right thing.

He had protected his wife and their child.

He protected his brother, his sister, his niece.

He had protected his mother and his grandfather.

Now they were safe.

Now at last he would be able to sleep.

His wife was waiting for him in his chamber, and when he entered she rose quickly, terrified, covering her face with her hands as if she were about to scream, her face pale and tired. He knew she had not slept that night, not knowing where he was, what had happened.

She couldn't make a sound, apparently thinking that the blood that coated his body, his hair and his armour belonged to him.

He approached her, knelt down in front of the bed she was kneeling on and hugged his face to her pregnant abdomen, a deep sigh of relief leaving his lips.

He had done the right thing.

"It is done."

____

Next chapter will be the last chapter of this series. My poor heart!

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[justsomeunsurefancat]

He says while carrying his grandson's body: "My daughter was breastfeeding her son, suddenly we were shelled. We took him away and later discovered he is dead." He lifts the child to the world and says, "This is Netanyahu. These are the children he targets. If the Israeli army is an army, let it face men, not children." Gaza faces the harshest, most brutal, and savage occupation in history.

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[esther-dot]

Hi! I just wanted to ask if you are one of the jonsas who think Jon and Dany won't be romantically involved in the books.

Well...

The streets grew emptier as they passed through a district given over to gloomy stone warehouses. Aggo went before her and Jhogo behind, leaving Ser Jorah Mormont at her side. Her bell rang softly, and Dany found her thoughts returning to the Palace of Dust once more, as the tongue returns to a space left by a missing tooth. Child of three, they had called her, daughter of death, slayer of lies, bride of fire. So many threes. Three fires, three mounts to ride, three treasons. "The dragon has threeheads," she sighed. "Do you know what that means, Jorah?" "Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black." "I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons." "The three heads were Aegon and his sisters." "Visenya and Rhaenys," she recalled. "I am descended from Aegon and Rhaenys through their son Aenys and their grandson Jaehaerys." "Blue lips speak only lies, isn't that what Xaro told you? Why do you care what the warlocks whispered? All they wanted was to suck the life from you, you know that now." (ACOK, Daenerys V)

"Your Grace," he conceded, "the dragon has three heads, remember? You have wondered at that, ever since you heard it from the warlocks in the House of Dust. Well, here's your meaning: Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, ridden by Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen—three dragons, and three riders." "Yes," said Dany, "but my brothers are dead." "Rhaenys and Visenya were Aegon's wives as well as his sisters. You have no brothers, but you can take husbands. And I tell you truly, Daenerys, there is no man in all the world who will ever be half so true to you as me." (ASOS, Daenerys I)

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters. "Was the night as quiet as it seemed?" Dany asked. (ASOS, Daeneryrs VI)

Three treasons will you know. Once for gold and once for blood and once for love. (ADWD, Daenerys VI)

Unlike show Dany, book Dany is a romantic, she does fantasize about being rescued, and she is interested in a guy even when he doesn’t particularly care for her. We now Euron wants her and potentially might harness a dragon, so it's possible by the time she and Jon meet, she's disabused of all this and they're only antagonistic. That doesn't really feel like Martin to me though?

His mantra has always been William Faulkner’s comment in his Nobel prize acceptance speech, that only the “human heart in conflict with itself … is worth writing about”. “I think that’s true of any fiction worth reading, that you’re really talking about people. And maybe it’s set in space or in a castle with dragons, maybe you set it in a suburban town where Dick and Jane live, or in some urban hell hole. Wherever you want to set your story, it’s still about people trying to make their decisions about what is right and what is wrong, how do I survive, questions of good and evil.”

I really doubt that he'd write a one-note dynamic. He inserted conflict into the healthiest canon relationship, he emphasizes the conflict within the Stark family, he likes complexity not merely theoretically, but it's what interests him, it's what he writes to explore. And here we have a series of quotes that set up Dany to trust someone (Jon) who has a preexisting loyalty to the Starks that will demand he act in their best interest which aligns with her prophesied treason (betray her for love of the Stark), and seeing all the Dark Dany foreshadowing, what she thinks of the Starks, it's clear they will not be friends.

Now, does Jon need to be romantically involved with her to spice up the two being at odds? No. Jon's time at the Wall has him trying to put aside his love for his family and accept his new "family," and no matter his oath or how many times he tells himself, he can't be swayed in his loyalty and love for the Starks. To me, it reads like a form of an idea that will add layers to his interactions with Dany. No longer is it merely an oath that is meant to make him loyal to "family", it's blood. It's actually family, long lost family, potentially, a new identity, not being a bastard, if he wanted it. The Watch allows him to rise up to Lord Commander, it would make sense for the Targ situation to offer him a high station too, as a form of temptation (not that it matters, he's obvy never gonna betray the Starks). Maybe we'll be lucky and it's only that.

But, we also have the Ygritte situation in which there is an invading force and even though he's sexually involved, he can't be swayed in his loyalty. To me, that too reads like prep for Jon's next "test" to be ramped up and even more trying, worse, much worse. How much "more" might we see here? I'm torn. I've read and liked different spec. If Stumpy is right and we get Jonnel x Sansa 2.0, Jon will already be married and there's just no way in hell Jon is cheating on Sansa, so blood relation vs the family that he grew up with may be it.

HOWEVER, if Jon is KitN, I don’t see how he goes South and puts himself in enemy hands, and if he isn’t, if he defends Sansa or Rickon’s claim, there’s a lot more tension because of what Dany could offer him. If Jon is not only accepted in the North but married to a Stark and king or warden or regent or anything official, imo, there's just not much tension there at all. If Martin wouldn't allow a clear-cut Jon vs FF, but wrote into that "the heart in conflict with itself" for Jon, I'm very doubtful he hasn't planned a similar trial for Jon with Dany/her invasion. Tension makes things fun, he likes making things emotionally difficult and morally complex. And let's not forget, Mance, the leader of the FF/the invasion is presented in a very Rhaegar-esque way, Dany sees herself as Rhaegar once, and Jon was meant to kill Mance. Doesn't bode well.

Also, we gotta look at that word "treason." Jon could be the king who knelt redux, Martin isn't in favor of needless war, a king sacrificing it all to save his people is admirable, and that would allow Jon's actions against Dany to be treasonous. And if we think of this from the Dany perspective, we would want to up the anti of her own feelings of betrayal. She "saved" (in her mind) Mirri, she trusted Jorah who claimed to love her, how can the last treason be worse, far more painful, the most painful? Someone who has sworn to her, ok. Family? Sure, but Viserys already abused her/was a threat. Lover? Well, we all know Daario is a fuckboi and doesn't care for her, so maybe, to make it truly suck, all three? The person she thought she was destined to meet/trust, family she didn't know she had, a potential husband, is her final betrayal? I think the stacking idea for both the relationship and the treason may be it.

I do not think Jon would willingly enter into a relationship with Dany. Unfortunately, that does not mean one will not happen. I don't think it's conclusive they will have sex, but Dany's tracks to Jon say "husband" (some would argue shadowy lover...), and Jon's experiences point to him betraying "family"/someone who loves him. IMO, the odds are it's a one-sided thing.

SO, my very rambling answer to a pretty straightforward question is, I am not. I am not sure that they will have sex, but I certainly think it's very likely Dany will want a romantic relationship as part of her Targ belief. It will end badly for her, as I talked about in the flies/"dead man's revenge" post, but I certainly think there's gonna be layers there, nothing simplistic.

[mywingsareonwheels]

1974.

Morse is interviewing witnesses to a murder at one of the colleges, and one of them is strikingly familiar. He's a man in his early twenties, a recent medical graduate back visiting friends before heading off to move into a totally different career. He has a posh accent, a friendly smile, warm brown eyes.

Oh he's truly, desperately familiar, and Morse isn't looking too hard into his own motives when he lets the younger man talk him into a drink out, and then a one-night stand, and then something rather more like a friendship played out over Scotch and crosswords and literary quotations.

[More behind the cut....]

He does mention, briefly, that his new friend reminded him of someone else on first meeting. And somehow that turns into a discussion of ancestry, and the young man discusses with some glee the skeleton in his family cupboard: the fact that his paternal grandmother when barely eighteen had a dalliance with a working-class ruffian of the same age from Mile End, of all places. That she'd got pregnant, but her parents wouldn't let her tell the lad, but instead got her engaged to a somewhat stuffy friend of theirs called Richardson.

"Dad hates to talk about it," says Morse's friend, "he's rather a stuffed shirt, especially for a surgeon. But Granny used to love telling me stories. She did come to love my Granddad, I think, but she missed that boy from Mile End all her life." He chuckles, but a little shakily, because he has yet to learn the effortless-seeming confidence he'll spread before him one day. "I'd give anything to meet him."

Morse swallows, heart suddenly in his mouth. And something in his face makes the young man carry on, more intensely.

"Granny told me that she named Dad after him, though he doesn't know. So that's what I have: Frederick, from Mile End. Fathered a child around 1930 when he was just a lad and doesn't even know he did." He laughs, wryly. "Not much to go on, is it."

"Douglas," says Morse, and his voice is shaking but there's a smile in his eyes. "I... I'll need to look into this, but I think. I mean. I think I can help."

The postcard is of York Minster, which is only a half hour drive from where three exiles from Oxford have settled. On the back it reads just:

"Sir,

Un bel di, please could we talk? There's someone I think you should meet. Bring 2 rounds ham and tomato sandwiches. --"

At the day and time thus ordered, Fred Thursday finds Morse standing admiring the rose window, and follows him out to a bench in the Minster gardens. He's torn between confusion and shame, though above all trying to hide how overjoyed he is to see the rusty curls and those haughty, sea-green eyes again. When Morse explains, and introduces the young trainee pilot with a face Fred remembers from his mirror as a long-lost grandson... well, it's good he's already sitting down, is all.

The years past, and they are gentler than they might have been.

Fred lives to see his grandson a captain, to meet his great-granddaughter. To introduce his grandson to his uncle and step-grandmother and eventually even his aunt. To become friends with Morse again, even if quietly, and for the most part only by letter. To relish that Douglas and Morse, despite occasionally enraging each other beyond reason, seem to be friends for life. (He suspects that they might once have been more than that; if they aren't going to tell him though, he's not going to point it out.) Something healed in him that day in York, and it never breaks again.

When Captain Douglas Richardson puts down the bottle, in an attempt to salvage something of his career and his relationship with his daughter, perhaps it's partly because he's still grieving for his grandfather, dead some ten years now, but most of all because he's still grieving for his friend and one-time lover, and doesn't want to die so young himself.

When First Officer Douglas Richardson meets his new captain at MJN's portacabin in Fitton, he's a little strikingly familiar too. He's shorter, and more pompous, and vastly less good at word games, but there are rusty curls and haughty sea-green eyes.

He's no relation of Morse's at all though, it turns out. This is, eventually, rather a relief.

[h3rmess]

WHERE OUR BLUE IS

Written by @h3rmess ✰

Masterlist

S3 : Chapter 6 - Motivation ☆

༄ ༄ ༄

"Seiko! Long time no see!" The man spoke, making me feel uncomfortable in an instant.

"I'm anything but pleased to be here right now." I dismissed his greeting, taking a seat on the floor in front of him.

"Goodness, what is it with these young people and their lack of manners? I knew you should have grown up here." He held his head in his hands, shaking it profusely.

"You're the one who sent us away, Okumoto Yuto-sama." I spoke to the clan leader, who looked up at me with a smirk.

"What's with this formality? You're aware I'm your grandfather, right? There's no need to treat me all high and mighty as if I'm not family!" He leaned forward, taking a piece of my hair into his hand and stroking it gently.

I swatted his hand away, retorting. "You were just complaining about my bad manners!"

"It's alright when it's you. You're our special child, after all."

"Sure doesn't feel like it." I mumbled, looking away from him.

"You know I've always loved and supported you. I never believed for a second that you were at fault. That Zenin boy ought to be -" I cut him off before he could continue.

"Don't. He'll get what's coming to him when the time comes." I spoke plainly.

"You'd better be the one to give it to him!" He cackled, slapping his thigh.

"Zenin Maki might beat me to it, though." I told him.

"Maki? The twin? The Zenin clan's biggest failure? Don't make me laugh." He looked me dead in the eyes.

"Don't doubt her. She's very strong and determined. I'm sure she'll reach her goal."

The room we sat in had frosted windows that let a gentle glow from the sun through, the rays refracting to highlight the emerald hue of my eyes.

"Why did you call me here anyway?" I asked, my legs becoming sore from sitting on the wooden tiles.

"Ah! Yes! I have a proposal for you." He clapped his hands together, getting comfortable.

I awaited his speech as he gleamed at me.

"As you know, Seiko, you are coming of age." My heart sank at the words that left his mouth. Where was he taking this? " And as I don't have much time left, I would like to see one of my grandchildren get married. And who is better than my beloved grand daughter!" He exclaimed, my demeanour the exact opposite.

"W-what? I'm barely fifteen, and you're suggesting marriage? Why can't someone else do it? Why can't Shoji do it? He's of age!" I retorted reflexively.

"It's not the same when your grandson does it. It's a boring, old ritual for men, but for a female like you, it represents your journey into both adulthood and womanhood. I would like to see that from you, Seiko." He explained to me, making me even more upset.

"What? So you just expect me to throw away all the years of training and hard work I've put in just for your happiness? Do you realise how absurd that is?" I questioned his morality.

"Your hard work amounts to nothing as long as you're a woman in Jujutsu society." My jaw dropped at the misogyny that left him. "As it stands, Shoji is the strongest out of all of the grandchildren. I will continue to place my bets on him. For now, I want you to live a comfortable life where you're not constantly in danger."

"I don't care if I'm a woman! I don't care about where I stand in Jujutsu society! I just want to help people. That's all I'm doing this for!" My eyes welled up as I looked away from my grandfather.

His posture slumped, his eyes closing and his mouth opening to speak. "I'm just trying to protect you from the inevitable suffering you'll face. You know I love you, Seiko. Just don't get too caught up in this; you'll wind up dead if you do."

I was enraged. I stood, my steps heavy as I walked towards the door. "I'll prove to you that I can make a case for myself, even if I'm a woman. And when I do, I'll return to you as a special-grade sorcerer." I told him plainly, storming out.

"Kids these days..." He chuckled as I slammed the door shut.

3rd PERSON POV

Yuto sat on the floor alone.

"Makoto!" He hollered for one of the women living there. She rushed into the room within an instant, bowing before him.

"Get me on the phone to Haruto." He commanded.

She dialled the number and handed the phone to the clan leader.

"Hello, Father." The man on the other side of the phone spoke with a monotonous voice.

"Haruto. I wanted to tell you that I have changed my mind about you being my heir." Yuto told him.

"What?! You can't just change that all of a sudden! Are you insane? Who do you think is more capable than me?" He protested, his tone suddenly changing to a more aggressive one.

"Don't take that tone with me, boy. I am your father, and you will not question my decisions." Yuto spoke firmly. "There are many other people who are more capable of you. Even your daughter is more capable. You call her a failure? I see where she gets it from." He spat, tearing his son's ego down within an instant.

"I will not be compared to something of that level. She is not my daughter anymore. Not after she tarnished our name." Haruto's voice had anger engraved in it, only further validating Yuto's decision.

"Fine, then. If you want to play like that, then we'll play. Consider yourself written out of my will completely. All of your privileges will be shared between the grandchildren instead." Yuto finished, hanging up before he could hear his sons spiteful words.

"That girl is going places beyond our wildest dreams. If no one is going to believe in her, then I will." He handed the phone back to Makoto, standing up and going to his bedroom.

༄ ༄ ༄

-> this came out shorter than I anticipated... oopsie

-> if you're confused about the characters, refer to this chapter here.

-> GUESS WHOSE BIRTHDAY IS SOON!!! (it's not mine it's Seiko's LOL)

-> got some Seiko art loading rn. I'm struggling with the colouring ermm... I'll figure it out guys don't worry

-> I've been caught up with lots of things : 1: studying, 2: watching and reading BL (believe or not, this stands for blue lock), 3: my new mini fic "COLLAPSE" (geto's chapter coming soon)

-> guys I have a crush on oliver aiku, send help. I'm literally so obsessed with him. I want him plastered on my walls PLSSS.

-> N E waysss... see you soon with chapter 7 😈😈

༄ ༄ ༄

@nyxlai @inlovewithlondonn @sad-darksoul @eternalalmondd @httpstoyosi @vivi-loves-penguins @samutoru @lysaray @maya-maya-56

[kitcat22]

Another Au thats been rattling around my head is a time travel Au where Turgon and the Lords of Gondolin wake up in the years of the trees

Turgon wakes up in his parents house in Tirion to the sound of birds tweeting outside his window.

Like most of his mornings his first moments of waking are blissfully pleasant … until reality comes crashing down on him. This time around the reality of his existence is even worse than before

He remembers watching as morgoths armies marched towards his city. He remembers the battles on the walls and in the streets and before his own tower. He remembers the death of his lords, his friends, and he remembers his own death too. He remembers of every piece of advice he ignored and every quiet warning from his daughter and the sounds of his people screaming, men,women and children all

And Turgon weeps

It takes a little while of crying his eyes out before it occurs to him that the halls of Mandos look an awful lot like his room at his parents house in tirion.

Confused, he wonders down the stairs through the familiar hallways and into the dining room where his father sits eating breakfast

Cue more confused crying

Nolofinwe is equally bewildered and very worried why Turukano is uncontrollably sobbing into his arms. He calls Anaire into the room but she is just as helpless as him

During this breakdown Turgon has his realisation that he’s in pre darking valinor comes to understand that either he’s been sent back in time ore the last few hundred years for him have been some strange dream. It occurs to him that if his parents are whole and well in front of him Elenwe must be alive too

Hearing his son mumble Elenwe’s name causes Nolofinwe to write a letter to Elenwe asking if everythings all right and if she could please return to tirion as something is very wrong with her husband.

Anaire tucks Turgon back into bed and sits beside him keeping watch.

Elenwe who is at an academic conference in Taniquetil while also visiting family, wakes up with memories up until falling through the ice.

She never reads her father in laws letter as she’s already madly dashing towards tirion.

When she arrives she and Turgon spend a long time cuddling and crying

Nolofinwe and Anaire, and by this point Findekano and Irrise, still have no clue whats going on

Elenwe and Turgon in the privacy of Turgons room tell each other what they remember

Elenwe is horrified and grieved to hear of all that happened after her death.

She longs for her brave,sensible daughter who grew up without her. Her daughter who has not even been conceived yet . She wishes she could have met her son in law who her husband speaks of with trust fondness, admiration and regret. She wonders about her apparently half elven grandson who Turgon speaks of as a sweet energetic child who loved sweets and games and staying up past his bedtime. She listens in horror at the tale of what fate befell the noldor upon reahcing beleriand.

Turgon realises with a panic that he doesnt know what happened to Maeglin. He desperately hopes he managed to escape. His nephew is to young to die , too young and full of promise. If Maeglin is dead then Turgon is responsible for the death of Aredhels son and that is not something that he can live with.

Neither of them can allow this dark future to become reality again

They realise that this is too difficult and unbelievable to explain to Turgons family so they promise them that they’ll explain everything eventually

No matter what it takes they will end the doom of the Noldor before it even begins

To be continued…

[blade-that-was-broken]

How does Rosiepuff react to seeing all the boys again and learning all about, well, everything?

In I’m Still Here au.

Rosiepuff kinda be like ‘sweet I get to see my grandsons again.’ When they left the first time, she didn’t actually think she’d ever see them again. In honesty she never thought she would end up leaving the Tree either. So seeing them is a pretty joyous occasion. Obviously seeing JD would be a shock considering she’s thought he was dead for the last several years.

I think a tiny part of her might be like where has he been? Kind of mindset but the vast majority of her conciousness knows he loves his brothers way too much to purposefully put Branch in that position and give him that pain (of thinking he was dead). She, correctly, guesses that something bad happened and it was just a crappy coincidence.

Rosiepuff doesn’t have a ton of hard feelings towards her daughter in law, although of course she doesn’t agree with her actions. She’d be surprised to hear that was originally who they were going to rescue. She doesn’t think her daughter in law would ever contact them. I think Rosiepuff might theorize she is dead but idk it doesn’t matter.

So yeah I mean she’s pretty happy. Seeing her grandsons again is pretty awesome. Learns she had great grandchildren which makes her feel super old. Idk if she’d travel to vacay island or not cause that’s pretty far for someone her age but maybe?

I kinda want Rosiepuff to do the pinching and smushing face child thing with Clay (even tho I don’t think she generally does that) cause he’s got a baby face (idk a little bit maybe) and I think it would be funny and ironic.

[bonefall]

Renamings in the Bonefall Rewrite

So if you’re familiar with my rewrite, you’re probably aware that I try to avoid renaming warriors and creating OCs. This is because I tend to find it confusing, and I want to stick with either reworking existing characters or saving cats that unceremoniously died.

But I do have a few renamings! There tend to be four reasons why I’ll rename a warrior;

1. They had a duplicate name. I’m eliminating repeats, and the more important warrior keeps theirs. (Mudclaw WindClan > Mudclaw ShadowClan, ergo Mudclaw ShC = Mudfoot.)

2. They are being combined with another character. I want to preserve the ‘roles‘ of certain characters while eliminating redundancy, so the name will be combined so it’s easier to keep track of who was who. (Hollytuft + Larksong = Hollylark)

3. Their canon name is an ‘honor title’. Respected warriors can take new names (an “honor title”) after a great achievement, shedding their old one. Unless there’s a conflict, the FINAL name will match their CANON name. (Hoprunner = Deadfoot, Crowfoot = Crowfeather)

4. A previously dead apprentice/kit survives, OR they achieve a new title in StarClan. I’ve saved certain characters and allowed them to live long enough to get their warrior names (Marshkit = Marshwing), and additionally, I follow the Code of the Clans “Smallstar” logic and allow kits and apprentices to appear as adults in StarClan if they so choose (Petalkit, Patchkit, Larchkit = Petalstar, Patchpool, Larchface).

I’ll be updating this post as I decide on new names. I won’t be mentioning a rename in this post until it has become relevant in the rewrite though, to avoid bloat (and also so I don’t have to bang out every single CotC conflict yet, as a lot of stories are being overhauled)

Duplicate Names

Mudclaw (ShC) = Mudfoot. Mate of Lizardstripe, father of Deerfoot, Tangleburr, and Runningnose.

Applefur (TF) = Appledapple Mother of Ratscar, Snowbird. Renamed to avoid conflict with Applefur (OotS)

Flowerstem (AVoS) = Flowerscar Child of Grassheart and Stonewing. Getting an honor title to avoid conflict with Flowerstem (CotC) though she will be named after her.

Cloudberry (TC) = Cloudbelly Goosefeather’s mentor, and the medicine cat who joins ThunderClan after the death of Ravenwing during Mapleshade’s Vengeance. Renamed to avoid conflict with Cloudberry (CotC), now a Dark Forest spirit out of conscious objection to StarClan. Cloudbelly’s mentor Echosnout named both of her apprentices with the -belly suffix.

Frecklewish (SkC) = Frecklewing SkyClan’s current medicine cat. Renamed to avoid conflict with Frecklewish (MV)

Ivytail (RC) = Ivytuft. Renamed to avoid conflict with Ivytail (ShC)

The Three Milkfurs (MV, YS, WC) Mother = Milkfur Daughter = Milkbelly Holy Ghost Ancient WindClan Deputy = Milktooth

The FOUR Robinwings (TC, RC, WC, SkC) ThunderClan = Robinwing RiverClan = Robinwish WindClan = Robinflight Code of the Clans = Robinspot/Robinstar

The Three Darkstars (MV, CotC, SkC) and their Codes Mapleshade’s Vengeance = Darkstar. Being reduxed to have invented the Protecting Kittens law of the Code. Code of the Clans = Eliminated. The story behind the 3rd law of the Code (feeding elders and kits before warriors) is being completely redone. SkyClan = Dalestar. Creator of the 13th law, to never question your leader

Combined Characters

Larksong + Hollytuft = Hollylark Plus a ton of family tree fixes; Hollylark becomes the mate of Sparkpelt and was the grandson of Firestar through Lionblaze.

Ashfur (ShC) + Ashheart = Ashheart More of a fix than a combination. Ashfur is completely unconnected to any other cats (no parents, no children) and Ashheart is closer in age to be Yellowfang’s ‘old friend‘ anyway.

Scorchbreeze + Raggedstar = Raggedpelt is an honor title. No need for Ragged to have a brother. Scorchbreeze was his name before Raggedpelt became deputy, named after the many well-earned scars on his pelt.

Thornclaw + Spiderleg = Spiderthorn Frostfur’s kits are too prevalent and prevented other characters from developing. Spiderleg will be mentored by Thornclaw, and take on his role as an argumentative traditionalist after Thornclaw’s death in the Great Battle.

Honor Titles

Raggedstar, Darkstar, and Flowerstem (AVoS) were previously mentioned; see above.

Deadfoot = Hoprunner Earns an honor title after inventing a battle move called “Deadfooting“ which involves clubbing an enemy with a raised paw.

Crookedjaw = Stormpaw, Stormkit Spent months away from the clan at the barn, developing unique hunting and fighting techniques. His warrior name is an honor title to acknowledge this impressive feat, ergo he was never cruelly renamed as a child.

Crowfeather = Crowfoot Was a warrior on the great journey, fixing the timeline discrepancy where Deadfoot would have been dead before he was conceived. He hated his old name because BOTH of his parents were -foot named; requesting the honor title in memorial for Feathertail.

Ratscar = Meltpelt Literally buried in angry rats at the carrionplace, surviving the worst infection ShadowClan had ever seen.

Clawface = Daylight Renamed by Brokenstar after a very bloody battle with WindClan. Clawface always thought his old name was too soft, reminding him of his weak brother Nightpelt.

Survival Names + StarClan names

Marshkit = Marshwing The Tallpoppy kit saved by Brackenfur during the Great Journey, survives to adulthood, mentors Tigerheart.

Smokepaw = Smokefall The ShadowClan apprentice who fell during the Great Journey, surviving because of the Tribecats being better guides. (This character is also being merged with Smokefoot, whose name was a writer oversight.)

Talonpaw = Talonclaw Rowanclaw’s apprentice in TNP who died to the vicious kittypets, surviving because of Smokefall being around to save him.

Elderkit = Elderberry

Fixing some age gap problems by making Ashfur younger than Ferncloud, but preserving apprenticeship situations and giving myself more ‘bodies‘ to work with in TNP by saving one of Ferncloud’s other littermates.

Perchpaw = Perchshine Leaves RiverClan for the barn following Mapleshade’s Vengeance, but Darkstar honorably bestows a warrior name on him before he departs.

Mapleshade’s Litter Petalkit = Petalstar Larchkit = Larchface Patchkit = Patchpool

Mosskit = Mosslight

Shrewpaw = Shrewface

[toomanyrobins2]

Master Brucie

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

6.30, Saturday

Dear Batman,

We started to walk to town today, but mercy! how it poured. I like winter to be winter with snow instead of rain. 

Harriet’s desirable uncle called at the college this afternoon—and brought a five-pound box of chocolates. There are advantages, you see, about rooming with Harriet Kane. 

Our innocent prattle appeared to amuse him and he waited for a later train in order to take tea in the study. We had an awful lot of trouble getting permission. It's hard enough entertaining fathers and grandfathers, but uncles are a step worse; and as for brothers and cousins, they are next to impossible. Harriet had to swear that he was her uncle before a notary public and then have the county clerk's certificate attached. (Don't I know a lot of law?) And even then I doubt if we could have had our tea if the Dean had chanced to see how youngish and good-looking Uncle Bruce is.

Anyway, we had it, with brown bread Swiss cheese sandwiches. He helped make them and then ate four. I told him that I had spent last summer at the Kent Farm, and we had a beautiful gossipy time about the Kents, and the horses and cows and chickens. All the horses that he used to know are dead, except Grover, who was a baby colt at the time of his last visit—and poor Grove now is so old he can just limp about the pasture.

He asked if they still kept doughnuts in a yellow crock with a blue plate over it on the bottom shelf of the pantry—and they do! He wanted to know if there was still a woodchuck's hole under the pile of rocks in the night pasture—and there is! Amasai caught a big, fat, grey one there this summer, the twenty-fifth great-grandson of the one Master Brucie caught when he was a little boy.

I called him 'Master Brucie’ to his face, but he didn't appear to be insulted. Harriet says she has never seen him so amiable; he's usually pretty unapproachable. But Harriet hasn't a bit of tact; and men, I find, require a great deal. They purr if you rub them the right way and spit if you don't. (That isn't a very elegant metaphor. I mean it figuratively.)”

We're reading Marie Bashkirtseff's journal. Isn't it amazing? Listen to this:

 'Last night I was seized by a fit of despair that found utterance in moans, and that finally drove me to throw the dining-room clock into the sea.'

It makes me almost hope I'm not a genius; they must be very wearing to have about—and awfully destructive to the furniture.

Mercy! how it keeps Pouring. We shall have to swim to chapel tonight.

Yours ever,

Y/N

 

20th Jan.

Dear Batman,

Did you ever have a sweet baby girl who was stolen from the cradle in infancy?

Maybe I am she! If we were in a novel, that would be the denouement, wouldn't it?

It's really awfully queer not to know what one is—sort of exciting and romantic. There are such a lot of possibilities. Maybe I'm not American; lots of people aren't. I may be straight descended from the ancient Romans, or I may be a Viking's daughter, or I may be the child of a Russian exile and belong by rights in a Siberian prison, or maybe I'm a Gipsy—I think perhaps I am. I have a very wandering spirit, though I haven't as yet had much chance to develop it.

Do you know about that one scandalous blot in my career the time I ran away from the asylum because they punished me for stealing cookies? It's down in the books free for any Trustee to read. But really, what could you expect? When you put a hungry little “little nine-year girl in the pantry scouring knives, with the cookie jar at her elbow, and go off and leave her alone; and then suddenly pop in again, wouldn't you expect to find her a bit crumby? And then when you jerk her by the elbow and box her ears, and make her leave the table when the pudding comes, and tell all the other children that it's because she's a thief, wouldn't you expect her to run away?

I only ran four miles. They caught me and brought me back; and every day for a week I was tied, like a naughty puppy, to a stake in the backyard while the other children were out at recess.

Oh, dear! There's the chapel bell, and after chapel I have a committee meeting. I'm sorry because I meant to write you a very entertaining letter this time.

Auf wiedersehen

Cher Bats, 

Pax tibi! 

Y/N

The atmosphere in the dimly lit study grew tense as Bruce Wayne read the distressing details of Y/N's childhood in the letter she had sent him. The words on the page painted a vivid picture of a small child, vulnerable and mistreated, enduring punishments that were both harsh and degrading. The injustice of it all stirred a storm of anger within Bruce, fueling an impulse to intervene immediately.

"To be hit and shamed for something as simple as taking a cookie," Bruce muttered under his breath, his fists clenching involuntarily. The vivid imagery of Y/N, tied to a stake like an animal, ignited a fierce protective instinct within him.

Alfred, ever the calm and composed voice of reason, observed Bruce's reaction with concern. "Master Wayne, I understand the anger you're feeling. However, charging into the orphanage may not be the most prudent course of action. We must consider the consequences and think strategically. Do not forget that this was before your time as a Trustee and it is possible that such reaction is no longer the practice."

Bruce's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he continued to read the letter. The injustice described seemed unbearable, and he could feel the urgency building within him.

"Alfred, this is unacceptable. No child should be subjected to such treatment," Bruce declared, his voice edged with frustration.

Alfred stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I share your sentiments, sir. But you must remember that not all children get the privilege of such a life and storming in without a plan may do more harm than good. You should speak to the other Trustees. It's essential to approach this matter with a clear strategy to ensure a lasting change for all the children under her care."

Bruce looked up, meeting Alfred's steady gaze. The older man's wisdom and practicality began to quell the storm of anger within him. Taking a deep breath, Bruce nodded reluctantly. Bruce closed the letter, a steely determination replacing the initial rage. He knew that Alfred's guidance was invaluable, and together, they would navigate the path toward rectifying the injustices Y/N had endured as a child. He certainly would not continue to provide money to this home without some serious changes occurring. 

4th February

Dear Batman,

Jimmie Gordon has sent me a Princeton banner as big as one end of the room; I am very grateful to him for remembering me, but I don't know what on earth to do with it. Barbara and Harriet won't let me hang it up; our room this year is furnished in red, and you can imagine what an effect we'd have if I added orange and black. But it's such nice, warm, thick felt, I hate to waste it. Would it be very improper to have it made into a bathrobe? My old one shrank when it was washed.

I've entirely omitted of late telling you what I am learning, but though you might not imagine it from my letters, my time is exclusively occupied with study. It's a very bewildering matter to get educated in five branches at once.”

“The test of true scholarship,' says Chemistry Professor, 'is a painstaking passion for detail.'

'Be careful not to keep your eyes glued to detail,' says History Professor. 'Stand far enough away to get a perspective of the whole.'

You can see with what nicety we have to trim our sails between chemistry and history. I like the historical method best. If I say that William the Conqueror came over in 1492, and Columbus discovered America in 1100 or 1066 or whenever it was, that's a mere detail that the Professor overlooks. It gives a feeling of security and restfulness to the history recitation, that is entirely lacking in chemistry.

Sixth-hour bell—I must go to the laboratory and look into a little matter of acids and salts and alkalis. I've burned a hole as big as a plate in the front of my chemistry apron, with hydrochloric acid. If the theory worked, I ought to be able to neutralize that hole with good strong ammonia, oughtn't I?

Examinations next week, but who's afraid?

Yours ever,

Y/N

 

5th March

Dear Batman,

There is a March wind blowing, and the sky is filled with heavy, black moving clouds. The crows in the pine trees are making such a clamour! It's an intoxicating, exhilarating, calling noise. You want to close your books and be off over the hills to race with the wind.

Wewent off and didn't get back to college till half-past six—half an hour late for dinner—and we went straight in without dressing, and with perfectly unimpaired appetites! Then we all cut evening chapel, the state of our boots being enough of an excuse.

I never told you about examinations. I passed everything with the utmost ease—I know the secret now, and am never going to fail again. I shan't be able to graduate with honours though, because of that beastly Latin prose and geometry Freshman year. But I don't care. Wot's the hodds so long as you're 'appy? (That's a quotation. I've been reading the English classics.)

Speaking of classics, have you ever read Hamlet? If you haven't, do it right off. It's perfectly corking. I've been hearing about Shakespeare all my life, but I had no idea he really wrote so well; I always suspected him of going largely on his reputation.

I have a beautiful play that I invented a long time ago when I first learned to read. I put myself to sleep every night by “pretending I'm the person (the most important person) in the book I'm reading at the moment.

At present I'm Ophelia—and such a sensible Ophelia! I keep Hamlet amused all the time, and pet him and scold him and make him wrap up his throat when he has a cold. I've entirely cured him of being melancholy. The King and Queen are both dead—an accident at sea; no funeral necessary—so Hamlet and I are ruling in Denmark without any bother. We have the kingdom working beautifully. He takes care of the governing, and I look after the charities. I have just founded some first-class orphan asylums. If you or any of the other Trustees would like to visit them, I shall be pleased to show you through. I think you might find a great many helpful suggestions.

I remain, sir,

Yours most graciously,

Ophelia,

Queen of Denmark.

Bruce looked over to his bookshelf where the hole where Gulliver’s Travels used to sit made him smile before pulling Hamlet off the shelf and putting his feet on his desk, trying to read it with the same level of imagination that Y/N possessed.

[kobold-wyx]

CK3 charity stream breakdown

cw: cannibalism, child harm, cancer

1. start with 400 points, basically witch+basic traits and stats in wales

2. the king of england invites me to a grand tournament and then literally dies in the first match

3. i hurriedly figured out how to gain congenital traits by eating children via witchcraft progression, and claim the kingdom of wales

4. I founded a coven and sold my seventh child's soul for an extended life

5. EATING SO MANY CHILDREN. YUM

6. i found out the king of the isle of man has the ring of life but couldn't figure out how to take it

7. i started exclusively destabilizing england by eating royal kids and murdering every adult that came to power

8. i am infirm

9. i figured out how to steal the ring of life on my deathbed. i succeeded and killed the previous owner, the king of the isle of mann. i am now functionally immortal

10. i killed england's royalty so much that my grandson's wife inherited the title randomly, and my grandson became the king of england so i stopped destabilizing england as it was now ruled by kobolds

11. the witch king was clubbed by a boat mast while relaxing at sea, was barely rescued, and suffered so much brain damage he is now incapable and cannot cast magic nor brew the potions that would cure himself. however, the instinct to abduct and eat children remained, and he often staked out the lands for his desired plans to work. no agents betrayed him. they saw the utility in his plans, despite his new mental handicap.

12. while incapable my kingdom rescued the now very-destabilized england from 4 simultaneous wars. kobolds are victorious. flanders is annihilated.

13. the witch king turns his attention to norway and begins killing adults and eating noble children to destabilize the invaded scotland territory controlled by the norse

14. i was abducted

15. they took the ring

16. fuck. at least i can hunt the nobles of norway

17. i must remind my grand daughter acting as regent who i am, and that her attempt to wrest my power away from my ownership will not be tolerated, nor punished. despite the fact that she is running it entirely without me. i trust you and will never harm you but you will never own it while i am alive, for even without the ring i will not die without a fight.

18. my body is suddenly entirely comprised of cancer. i will be dead within the year.

19. i die begging for my family coven to feed me the last prince of norway who eluded my grasp. my grandson of an unbroken line of primary heirs takes my title, and is left with a utopic paradise for himself, his surviving family, and his people. he is unable to thank me for the cost i was willing to pay.

but, the great grandson cannot look past his ruined family's lives at his ancestor's hands.