hqmillioncorn

[sardoniyx]

Jonsa AU - Tangled (for @broodybluebird ♥ ) 

@jonsaexchange ​Round Six - Creator’s Choice  Jon as Flynn, Sansa as Rapunzel. “I've been looking out of a window for eighteen years... dreaming about what I might feel like when those lights rise in the sky. What if it's not everything I dreamed it would be?” “It will be.” "And what if it is? What do I do then?” “Well, that's the good part I guess. You get to go find a new dream.”

[jonsaexchange]

“This filter suits you! I think you’d make a lovely King.”

“You only say that because I’m a humanities major. Your poli-sci degree would be more useful running a kingdom.”

“Between the two of us as King and Queen, I know we’d prosper.”

“In another lifetime, perhaps.”

For @tayl0crow by @broodybluebird

[carylerxsecretsanta]

Tumblr: broodybluebird Favorite Caryl Episode: Chupacabra Favorite Caryl Moment: Daryl running to embrace Carol after she saved the group Desired Present: early season fanfic, graphics, artwork

[alvadee]

@phantomoftheoperea replied to your photoset “bae arrived and is now watching over me ��❤️”

You have the loveliest smile omg your love for Victor shines in it!!

broodybluebird replied to your photoset : bae arrived and is now watching over me ��❤️

You are so cute!!!! Adore you adoring your poster :)

[azulaahai]

Written for the @jonsaexchange for @broodybluebird! This is very silly and long haha, sorry about that. Though I promise it contains a forehead kiss™ Hope you like it!

Once Upon A Dream: Jonsa Sleeping Beauty AU (with some adjustments)

Summary: Sansa is under a curse - fallen into a magical sleep, she, according to the prophecy, can only be awoken by a kiss from a dragon. Arya rides south to ask for help from the dragon king Aegon, but the king’s grumpy half brother Jon might prove to be an obstacle. 

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam Yet I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem But if I know you, I know what you’ll do You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream”

Summer had turned to autumn and the North had gone into slumber. Winter was approaching, closer every day, and with it an eternal darkness, an eternal sleep. In the highest tower in the northernmost holdfast laid a princess, her hair as red as the leaves outside. She was the image of peace as she laid there, breathing lightly, but her sleep turned deeper and more dreamless with every passing day. Her fate, the princess Sansa’s fate, would be the fate of the kingdom, and the moment Sansa finally stopped dreaming all together would be the moment the North would fall.

Her brothers sat by her bed night and day. Sansa did not know it. Her head was full of pictures and stories and songs, blurry bits and pieces of a world that was almost, but not entirely, like the real one. Her dreams were strange and colourful and with soft edges, like a painting come to life. Sometimes the dreams turned to nightmares of beasts, lions jumping at her throat. She should be afraid, had been afraid - she had fallen into a sleep she would likely never wake from. But no matter how vivid the dreams became, there was always a presence in them, a fact she was certain of but could not grasp or explain. A voice in the back of her head, telling her to hold on. That someone was coming for her. That this was, in fact, not the end.

So she was not afraid.

***

Arya rode hard and fast, the sound of hooves in autumn mud her constant companion. She rode better and quicker than any of her brothers, so it was her they had sent south for help - she who would have to convince the dragon to come flying north to help them. Arya barely stopped to sleep at night, and she ate on horseback. Faster, faster, faster. I might already be too late.

***

Sansa dreamt she was walking barefoot in the snow, without feeling the cold. When she looked down she realised it was not snow after all, but long, white fur.

***

The dragon king Aegon was already seated upon his throne when Arya burst into the throne room, despite the late hour - tales of the sleeping princess must somehow have reached the castle before Arya had. Beside the throne stood the half-dragon, the king’s brother, with dark hair and dark eyes. He wore a face so solemn Arya wondered who had died, but king Aegon gave her a dignified smile.

“Your grace”, Arya began, bowing, breath caught in her throat. “I have come from the North to beg for your help. My sister ...”  

“We know why you have come”, the king interrupted, and gestured for her to rise. Did he mean we as in his court, or did this dragon king think of himself so highly he said we and not I when talking about himself? Arya arose. “We have heard of your sister. An enchanting tale, really. We should have a bard write a song. A sleeping beauty in a tower in the north.”

“She need not be sleeping for much longer.” Arya was growing impatient. Every second speaking was time wasted. She had come so far ... “The prophecy is clear, your grace. The North needs your help. My sister ... Sansa ...” She paused. “She needs your help as well.” 

***

Sansa dreamt she stood in the window of the tower, jumping right into the open air. She was not afraid - she knew she would not be hurt. The snow would catch her, ease her fall - and so it did, embracing her softly.

***

“It is folly!” Jon ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. His brother did not seem to be bothered - Aegon even had the audacity to whistle as they walked through the corridors. “A southern king hasn’t travelled north for centuries - and to leave just for some words an old crone said a hundred years ago ...” “It’s a prophecy, brother.” “It’s madness!” “The dragon’s kiss shall wake the wolf, and the gods shall from above; bless those in the tower, who dream the dream of love.” “I know the damn words.” Jon was trying his best not to roll his eyes. Or vomit.

“They say she’s a beauty, you know?” Aegon said, surprising Jon. “The princess. A real beauty. The life-changing kind.” Jon wanted to shake the king by his shoulders. Jon loved his brother, but oh-too-often Aegon had an annoying tendency to be shallow, naïve - all he wanted was to play the hero and win the heart of some pretty girl. Gods save them all if Jon and Rhaenys, their sister, would ever cease to assist in the ruling of the kingdom. From the moment they had first heard the tale that suggested the prophecy was true and that a beautiful girl needed help, Jon had known Aegon was sold.

“If you want beauty, go look at a painting. Stay here.” He made a last effort. Aegon hardly seemed to hear him.

“Rhaenys will take over my duties, she does them better than me anyway ...” Aegon grinned. Jon made a face at him. “We’ll leave at dawn.”

“We?”

“I assumed you’d want to come along. To keep an eye on me. Besides, you want to see me give the princess the kiss of life, don’t you? Someone will have to describe what it looked like to the painters afterwards.”

***

Arya had never ridden a dragon before. She thought she could get used to the sensation of muscles lifting her up, up, up into the sky. Had it not been for the grimness of the occasion, she would have been bursting with joy. The king’s brother seemed to be thinking the same - for the first time since Arya had met him (which, to be fair, was the night before), Jon (which she now knew he was named) seemed relaxed, at peace. He stared into the clouds, and Arya couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking of.

***

Sansa dreamt she sat mounted on a wolf, chasing a stranger through the woods. She called after him, asking him to say his name, show her his face. A presence she had felt in her dreams, a comfort - was it him?

The stranger did not turn.

***

It was not until she was halfway up the tower stairs, the prince and his brother close behind, that Arya realised how tired and scared she was. So hard she had fought, so long she had tried. What if it had not been enough? She opened the door trembling, her brothers looking up as the small party entered, but Arya kept her eyes on the bed - where Sansa was still laying. Breathing, but very lightly. Alive, but barely.

***

Sansa dreamed something launched itself at her in the dark winter forest, a creature with white fur and teeth dripping with blood - a snow lion. She lifted her chin, wanting her last act to be one of resistance - but as the lion prepared for attack, it was struck by a flaming sword. Her stranger had returned.

***

Sansa. Princess Sansa. Jon saw her lay atop the bed, pale even against the white covers, red hair in a cascade across the pillows, and was ashamed of himself for thinking of how beautiful she was. There laid a young woman in her prime balancing on the edge of life, her grieving siblings gathered around her, even Aegon seemingly taken aback by the sadness of it all, yet all he could think of was her beauty? It was, truly, ridiculous. But, still.

A real beauty. The life-changing kind.

The girl - Arya - looked at Aegon impatiently. The king, staring at the princess, did not notice - Jon elbowed his side to turn his attention.

“Oh ... right. I guess I should just... I mean, I suppose I have to ...” Aegon suddenly looked very, very nervous. Jon could not blame him. None of the gathered northerners seemed all to happy at the prospect of the southern king kissing their sleeping sister - hells, Jon couldn’t blame them, either. Aegon approached the bed. The eldest of the brothers - Robert? Robin? Something with an R - shifted in his chair. Jon stared awkwardly straight ahead, where his brother, after only a moment of hesitation, planted a kiss on the princess’ cheek.

Everyone in the room collectively held their breaths. Nothing happened.

The youngest brother spoke. “Maybe ... maybe it has to be on the mouth? Like ... like married people do?” Arya cringed. Aegon obeyed, his lips briefly brushing against the princess’s.

And yet, nothing happened.

***

The forest in her dream was turning darker, the only light coming from the fire of the stranger’s sword.

“Turn around”, she whispered as the snow lion perished in flames. “Let me see your face.”

And so he turned to face her.

And she saw him.

***

Jon's heart sank.

“Why isn’t it working?” It was the youngest brother who said it, voice trembling. “Why isn’t she waking up?” No one had an answer to give him. Arya spun around, panic tearing her eyes as she looked at her eldest brother, as if he could help. No one moved.

It was the middle brother who broke the fear-filled silence, speaking for the first time, his eyes fixed at Jon as he said, with a voice wiser and older than he looked: “You try it.”

“Me?” Jon took a step back.

“Him?” the eldest brother said.

“A kiss from a dragon, is the prophecy - it did not say which dragon.”

Arya turned towards him, a crazy, burning hope in her eyes as she whispered, “Yes. Yes, this could work.”

No, he wanted to tell them, no, you are mistaken, I am no true dragon.  But with the princess laying there, life leaving her, the torn looks on the northerners’ faces ... how could he refuse? How could he deny them this last chance, this shred of hope? It would not work, could never work, but how could he not try?

So when Aegon stepped aside, Jon came forward, looking down at the princess. Clumsily, yet as gently as he could manage, he pressed his lips against her soft forehead, praying to whatever god might be listening -

- and when he pulled back, blue eyes were staring up at him.

And he’d thought her beautiful before! He could not even be shocked, he was under the spell of those eyes, clever, observant eyes meeting his with a half-smile ... He could drown in those eyes and die happy.

“There you are”, she whispered. “I know you.”

Although he had no idea what she was talking about, he was tempted to reply “I know you too.” 

And as she lifted her hand to stroke his cheek, her eyelids fluttering as if she wasn’t yet fully awake ...

Jon could feel his life changing.

[valeriianz]

8 Questions Tag Game

Tagged by @winters-blue-children (its been a while!)

Rules: Answer eight questions then tag eight people.

Last movie I watched: The Autopsy of Jane Doe.


Last song I listened to: PURE WHITE


Last book I read: I’m currently reading Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (in my quest to reread the series).


Last food you ate: Just had an egg/cheese sandwich for breakfast.


Where would you like to time travel to: Crazy far into the future, so I can see how far we’ve advanced (or fallen). Might die though.

Fictional character I would hang out with for a day: (probably because i’m watching it right now) Rick from Rick and Morty. Going on interdimensional time travel adventures biaatch!


If I could be anywhere right now, where would I be?: I’m fantastic right here. It’s my day off and i got to sleep in :D

Current fandom obsession: Currently... obsessionless :( (though I am watching The Handmaid’s Tale... it’s not really a show to get obsessed about lol)

I tag @samthelandshark @samwhambam @broodybluebird

[thecoliverlibrary]

Happy Christmas Exchange!! Coffeeshop AU Coliver :)

Gift Type: Fan Art Author: @broodybluebird Recipient: @gregorianplant

[chiccolofans]

broodybluebird answered your question “anyone want to do a fall/autumnal chiccolo challenge?”

Definitely!! I have been needing prompts for fanart!

Fantastic!!!

[jonsaexchange]

This is a gift for @alittlestardustcaught. I decided to go with your mythology request and a reverse Persephone/Hades fic! I really hope you like the art and the fic attempt! ^^;

Every spring it was his duty to escort her to the godswood.

She had asked it of him. She loved her family, but out of everyone it was Jon who gave her the most solace on her walk of shame.

Her brother Robb had been the first escort, but that hadn’t lasted long. By the end of their trek to the godswood he would work himself to a whirlwind of outrage. “It isn’t /right/,” he’d snarl, teeth clenched and fists shaking. His eyes would flash something dark and he’d stalk up the stony path like a cornered beast. “She can’t /do/ this!” Sansa would end up soothing him, with what little time she had left. Eventually she resented him for making her most trying day about him, however unintentional.

As for her father- his silence only filled her with shame for having brought this punishment upon herself. He needn’t say a word, in the time it took to walk to the godswood her mind would supply guilt enough. His grief would hang above her like a shroud, and when they’d reach the heart tree she’d find herself a child again weeping in his arms. This too she grew tired of.

Jon though, Jon didn’t make her feel so ashamed. She knew the others wondered at her choice, but with what little he did say Jon comforted her, and despite his feelings on the matter he didn’t let his wrath consume him like Robb, or make her feel a pitiful thing like with her father.

The only one truly satisfied with the arrangement was her mother. Giving Jon the task was just another reason to hate him, as if he were to blame for taking her favorite daughter away from her.

For every flower the maiden had plucked, a month above.

She’d been foolish then, the winter child with fire-kissed hair and summer dreams. She had been too naive and too full of envy to understand that even the most beautiful things could be rotten beneath. That flowers came with thorns, and that Queens with golden hair and golden sons had thorns of their own.

All she had intended was to make a crown of flowers for herself when she had snuck away to the gardens above. Had she known that the punishment for her crown would be to spend her months whipped and beaten, separated from her family and begging for Winter, she never would have left the cold caverns of the Underworld.

The Queen of Summer was so cold.

“Winter is coming,” Jon promised her. It was their father’s words, their people’s words. He hoped it offered some solace, and he thought it did because she’d give a tearful smile each time.

“You must seal your promise with a kiss,” she’d demand with feigned authority, voice shaky but determined. When this had first began, he’d been the one to kiss her as a brother would a sister, with a farewell kiss to her brow or to her cheek, something gentle to add to the warm embrace. She didn’t know when it had changed to something more, but she was grateful that it had.

“Please.”

He’d acquiese to her little order each time, gifting her one last semblance of control before Cersei snatched it all away. In those moments when his cool lips would match hers, she’d never felt so loved, so cherished -and it didn’t hurt quite so badly when she’d have to pull away.

“Til Winter,” he’d say, a hand brushing through her hair one last time, his frown dour as always but eyes gentle and sad.

“I will look for Ghost,” she replied hands resting against his chest one last time, fingers clutching his winter furs to remind herself of the cold, of Jon, of home. To give her strength for the coming months.

[carylerxsecretsanta]

“We Ain’t Ashes”

for @equusgirl - from @broodybluebird

Carol let her head rest against his and allowed herself this moment to breathe.

She had thought after her first death she was done mourning.

The pathetic woman who allowed herself to be cowed and beaten by her husband. A be a poor example to her daughter and a dead weight facing the undead.

The woman who had been exiled from their patchwork family of survivors for making the choices no one else could.

Husbandless. Childless. Murderer; of children and of the ailing.

Each death of her former self; each moniker she gained. She despaired.

Was there anything left?

We ain’t ashes.

She let his words resound, beat in her chest with each breath

No. No they weren’t.

As those women burned away and as she hardened herself to the cruel reality of this new world, she’d molded herself into something stronger each time. No matter how how much it felt like her identity was being seared away by the tragedies that continued to befall them, she would keep building herself up again.

She and Daryl breathed in unison, and she opened her eyes to study him here with her.

The kinship she felt with this man was a bond she���d never felt with anyone else. Whether it was their history of abuse or that instinctive drive to keep going, he never let her forget she wasn’t ever alone. That whoever she became, he’d be there for her

We ain’t ashes.

She found her hands reaching out for his, and met his gaze with a smile, and a sense of peace she hadn’t felt for some time.

[alvadee]

broodybluebird replied to your photoset “sometimes i remember that Bette Davis said to Robert Aldrich after...”

That first pic tho, he's so handsome and smug ♥️

if he’s one thing in 99% of his bad guy roles it is smug!

[neopuff]

broodybluebird said: Great compilation! I love to see some robrae on my dash c:

thaaaaaaaanks. i feel like i havent made anything robrae since robrae week hahaha

[valeriianz]

Do you agree with the Rock being People Magazine's sexiest man? If not, who would you pick, gurl 😝

lmao I think it’s well deserved! I mean… just look at him from the GameBoy Color!

[thecoliverlibrary]

The Best Laid Plans

Gift Type: Fan Fiction Title: The Best Laid Plans Author: @coliverscribbles​ (sideblog) Recipient: @broodybluebird Rating: General Word Count: 2,134 Summary: Valentine’s Day is fast approaching and the Hampton-Walsh household is all abuzz. Author’s Note: Inspired by an episode of Boy Meets World, called Risky Business. I hope my giftee enjoys reading it! :)

“Well, what do we have here? Is that a valentine I see in your hands, little brother?”

Jamie looked up from the red heart-shaped card he was holding, and immediately flung it to the side at the sound of his older brother’s teasing voice.

“It’s not mine! I think it’s for papa from dad… See, it says: ‘Dear Hacker Boy - Roses are red, violets are blue. Valentine’s on Monday, let’s rendezvous.’ I found it standing on the cutting board.”

“Ah, the fathers are leaving goofy notes for each other again, Jamie. Allow me to bestow some wisdom upon you,” he continued loudly, rolling his eyes at the slashing motions Jamie had started making with his hands, “Dad and pops do these cheesy gimmicks to keep the spice in their relationship alive. When you’re a parent, it’s all you really have left,” he tapered off with a wistful sigh.

“What, cheese?”

“No, doofus, lame goofy attempts at romance-!”

“Evan, don’t call your brother a doofus, and please don’t try to bestow any more romantic wisdom upon him.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Evan asked turning around to face his father.

“Long enough, what’s this?” Oliver answered, sauntering into the kitchen and picking up the card.

“I tried to warn you, bro,” Jamie said, then turned quizzically upon hearing the strangled snort his father had just let out, “Are you okay papa?”

“It’s the cheese, he choked on it. You should get him some water,” Evan quipped.

“What? Oh no, I’m fine,” Oliver replied, fixing his older son with a calculating look. “I was just thinking that I need to get a sitter for Monday… Say, Evan, since you’re so knowledgeable about cheeses and spices, what do you say to fixing some up while you babysit your little brother and sister on Monday evening?”

“Uh-uh. Sorry, pops. No can do. I have my own valentine to rendezvous with. Lisa and I made up,” Evan answered, quickly amending his statement at his father’s raised eyebrow. “Well… we’ll be making up when I tell her about the awesome Valentine’s dinner I’ve got planned for her at Bon Giourno. I made reservations and everything.”

“Oh alright, I suppose I could try to call Karen. But, she might have plans that night too… Hmm, you know, I was around 12 when I first started babysitting, and you’re nearly 12, Jamie. Maybe you could stay with Charlotte. The job pays $2.00 an hour, you up for it?”

“Keep the cash, papa. Buy yourself a new tie. Consider it a signing bonus for first time clients,” Jamie replied with a mischievous smile, much to his father’s amusement.

“Gee, thanks, buddy. That is mighty generous of you. Monday night then. I’ll take a chance on you.” Oliver ruffled his younger son’s hair, thinking not for the first time of his striking resemblance to Connor with his messy dark brown locks.

———-

“Whatcha got there, Charlotte?” Jamie asked, seeing his little sister fiddling with something that looked suspiciously like a heart-shaped card.

“Papa’s heart!” She squealed happily, holding it out proudly for him to see. “I’m a'pose to give it to Daddy!”

“'Dear Lawyer Boy - Blue is the violet. Red is the rose. Meet me at 8:00PM at the restaurant where you proposed.’” Jamie read aloud.

“Poetry is not papa’s strong suit,” came Evan’s loud guffaw, “You know, Jamie, girls love poetry. Throw a couple of fancy rhymes together with some flowers, and they’ll be putty in your hands.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah! Here, listen to a master at work and soak up some brilliance,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “Uh… there once was a guy in a locker, who just got a date… What a shocker!-”

“Be still my heart, Jamie, I think we’ve got a Shakespeare in the family,” came Connor’s teasing voice as he walked into the living room and perched on a couch arm rest, “Evan, I say this with love, son, but please don’t try and compose poetry to win Lisa back.” he added with a smirk.

“Ha ha, very funny, dad,” Evan sulked, slumping down onto the couch.

“Aren’t I?” Connor replied with a wink, before turning to his youngest, who had begun clamoring for his attention.

“Daddy!”

“Princess Charlotte! Ooh, what’s that?”

“Papa’s heart,” she answered very seriously, “He said t'keep it safe until you came. Here!” She chirped, holding it out delicately with both hands to her father.

He took it from her with a kiss to her head and opened it up, his eyes widening with mirth as he read the contents, “Your papa rhymes about as smoothly as you, Evan,” he chuckles.

“Dad, how did Papa get you to fall in love with him if he can’t write good poetry?” Jamie mused, “Evan says the trick to getting someone to fall for you is through poetry and flowers.”

“First, do not take romance advice from your brother, Jamie. Your papa didn’t need to write me poetry or bring me flowers. He was perfect just the way he was, with his dorky coke-bottle glasses, shy gummy smile, and cute blush-”

“Don’t forget my beautiful mind.”

“Ollie! When did you get home from the store?”

“Early enough to hear the end of your gushing. I see you got my heart,” Oliver answered, bending down for a quick peck.

“I guarded it with my life, Papa!”

“Thank you my sweetness!” Oliver turned to his daughter, reveling in the peals of giggles he received in return as he squeezed her into a tight hug then booped her nose.

“Hey, where are you two sneaking off to?” Connor asked, noticing his two sons starting to slink up the stairs.

“I’ve got some homework-”

“I’m gonna call Lisa-”

“Dinner’s in an hour, boys, so I expect you to be down again by then.”

“Got it, papa.”

“Okay, pops.”

“So… is it a date?” Oliver asked, looking up at Connor from his position on the floor with Charlotte, who was now animatedly playing with his fingers.

“It’s a date.” Connor winked back, “I assume you got a sitter?”

“I thought we might give Jamie a chance. He’s nearly 12, he should be able to hold the fort down for a couple of hours. Oh, and get this - I offered to pay him, $2 an hour, and he waived it as a signing bonus! Told me to buy a nice tie with the extra cash!” Oliver replied with a chuckle, “I think he’s been hanging around one too many of your client calls.”

Connor, for his part, looked caught between sheepish amusement and pride, “That kid absorbs everything he’s exposed to! They’re all growing up so fast. Make them stop growing, Ollie.”

“Well, we’ve still got this little one.” Oliver responded giving Charlotte another tight squeeze.

“I’m a grown up too, daddy!”

“Oh no you’re not, Princess Charlotte! You’re going to be our baby girl forever.” Connor replied indignantly, moving to sit on the floor with the pair and start tickling his daughter, as Oliver gently extricated himself to attend to dinner.

———-

Jamie looked up from the puzzle he and Charlotte were working on at the ring of the telephone.

“Hello?” …

“Oh, hi papa! No, dad left 40 minutes ago.” …

“Yes, everything is fine. The house is still standing, and Charlotte is being entertained.” …

“Okay, bye! Have fun on your date!”

He made his way back to the couch, only to do an about-face when the phone rings again.

“Yello?” …

“Oh, hi dad!” …

“Everything’s fine. Papa just called to ask about you actually.” …

“No, dad. I’m telling you, he’s there.” …

“Okay, bye dad.”

Man, I can’t believe mom and dad can’t find each other. How big is this restaurant anyway? He wondered to himself, as he went back to Charlotte.

He was getting bored with the puzzle and the beginnings of a game of house tag starting to take shape in his head.

———-

“Connor, it was humiliating! How could you go to the wrong restaurant? Or was proposing to me that forgettable?”

“I can only say I’m sorry so many times, Ollie.” Connor replied desperately, watching his husband pace their backyard.

“How could you forget something so important?”

“You’re right. I am a crass, unfeeling dunderhead who forgot that I proposed to you at Trattoria.”

“Yes, you are. And, I may forgive you in time. What restaurant did you go to anyway?” Oliver asked curiously.

“Can’t we just forget about this, and just get on to the romantic part of the evening?” Connor replied with a suggestive wink.

“It’s cute that you think you’re still getting lucky tonight. Just tell me. Where did you go?”

“I went to La Lola.”

“La Lola? That’s- Oh.”

“What ’Oh’?”

“Nothing, come on. Let’s go inside.”

“No, wait a minute, wait a minute. That was a loaded, ’Oh’.”

“Can’t we just get on with the romantic part of the evening, Lawyer Boy?”

“It’s cute, how you think you can use my own words against me, but no, no, no. Don’t you Lawyer Boy me. I will not be distracted. I did propose to you at La Lola, didn’t l?”

“Yes, you did, Connor.”

“Ooh, I knew it! I knew it. What happened at Trattoria?”

“I was proposed to at Trattoria.”

“Not by me.”

“Are you hungry? I’m so hungry.”

“Now, wait just a hot minute, wait a minute. Who proposed to you at Trattoria?”

“Lucas Porter.”

“Lucas Porter? Lucas Porter proposed to you? Who the hell is Lucas Porter?”

“Some guy.”

“Some guy? Some random drive-by proposal? Somebody proposed to you, and you didn’t tell me about it?”

“No, Connor. No, I did not.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

“Oh, because silly me, I thought maybe you’d get angry!”

“Oh, well, fine. Obviously, you know me. I don’t know you.”

“Connor!”

“Did you accept the proposal? Do you have another set of children in Maysville, Kentucky? Are Beatrice, Christopher, and Jackson waiting for their father to come back after stepping out for gum eighteen years ago?”

“Okay, enough, Connor.” Oliver admonished, rolling his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous! Calm down. Let’s go inside and discuss this like mature adults. You’ll only aggravate your blood pressure!”

“Oliver, if that’s even you’re real name- What in the world happened here? JAMIE!” Connor broke off, his eyes widening at the state of disarray that the living room currently seemed to be in.

As his eyes swept the scene, he took stock of a broken lamp, some spaghetti strewn across the couch, and the rest of the furniture that didn’t seem to be in their right places. Charlotte was sleeping in what seemed to be a makeshift pillow fort on the floor.

“It’s all my fault. No one else is to blame except me. But don’t worry, dad. I’m going to pay for it out of my own money.” Jamie rushed into the living room frantically, holding a broom.

“Your own money? What ’own money’?” Oliver asked with an incredulous stare.

“Well, no charge for my subsequent babysitting services until this gets paid off?” Jamie asked with hopeful, but worried eyes.

“YOU THINK WE’RE GOING TO LET YOU BABYSIT AG-” came Connor’s disbelieving shriek.

“SHHHHH! You’ll wake up my dear little sister, who, thank God, is still alive.” Jamie interrupted quickly, trying to defuse his father’s anger.

“Oh! Well, thank God for that.” Oliver replied sardonically, placing a gentle hand on his husband’s shoulder and praying it wouldn’t be shoved off. They shared a look, and Oliver knew they wouldn’t be dropping their previous discussion anytime soon - just shelving it for now to deal with the mess at hand and get their kids to bed.

———-

“Here, papa.”

“What’s this?” Oliver asked, looking up from his laptop to see his youngest son holding out a small bunch of paper flowers.

“Art project for school.”

“And, you made this for me? Thanks buddy, that’s really sweet. But, it’s not getting you out of your grounding.” Oliver replied with a wink and a ruffle to his son’s hair.

“Eh, it was worth a shot.” Jamie replied, turning to walk back upstairs to his room.

“Are those from Lucas Porter?” Connor quipped, as he walked into the living room.

“No. It’s from Jamie Hampton-Walsh.”

“Well, in case they get lonely.” Connor replied, presenting his husband with his own bouquet of fresh flowers.

“Connor, they’re beautiful. What are they for?”

“Because,” Connor answered, looking down as he hugged a throw pillow to his chest, “Because, this was the worst Valentine’s Day of my life, and I don’t think yours was any better either. And, maybe I overreacted. A little bit.”

“Oh?”

"And, I was thinking that you may have been proposed to twice, but you only said yes once, and I’m glad it was to me. Happy Valentine’s Day, Ollie.”

“Thanks, Con.” Oliver replied, accepting the flowers with a relieved smile.

They sat for a while in comfortable silence - Connor had traded the throw pillow in favor playing with Oliver’s fingers - until Oliver spoke up again.

“So,” he teased with a mischievous grin, “What makes you think I was only proposed to twice?”

-FIN-

[quillyfied]

Jade Eridan, perhaps bonding while shooting guns or dispensing tough-love/advice?

can do!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

Your name is Jade Harley and this is what works.

You know Eridan is sometimes emotionally overwrought; he’s dramatic and egotistical and thinks the world revolves around him. But he has trouble with the big stuff sometimes. So when he’s being willfully emotionally constipated, you bring him to the shooting range.

The way he handles a gun has always been beautiful to you; firearms are like limb extensions for him, graceful in a way you’ve never been able to be. To you, your rifles are tools, tools you know how to use, but tools nonetheless. To him, they’re like pieces of his own volatile soul.

(And Karkat thinks you’re not poetic. Shows what he knows!)

He has something on his mind and he doesn’t know how to bring it up, so you make it a game. You dare him to shoot better than you, and it’s a real challenge, because you are deadly accurate even blindfolded and he has a killer instinct that comes to life in a split-second, both born of necessity. You’ve both made a pattern of neat, perfect holes in your targets when finally Eridan puts down his gun.

"I had the dream again," he says quietly, and you walk over to him and hug him because there’s nothing else you can do. He hugs you back hard, the kind of bone-crushing hug you enjoy best and could actually injure your marginally more delicate human frame if he’s careless. But that’s like the two of you, right? One wrong move from disaster and bloodshed. You don’t look it, but you still remember the thrill of the grimbark and how a tiny, tiny, tiny part of you got a very animalistic enjoyment out of being so horrible. Eridan knows about that, just like you know about his obsessive need to destroy everything good in his life. You’re not gonna let him, of course, just like he’s not going to let you go back to where you used to be. Your moirallegiance is symbiotic like that.

"Pale for you," you say simply, and Eridan buries his nose in your hair and nods. He’s so emotional, you think affectionately, and then pull back and smack him upside the head. "Tell me when this kind of stuff happens, dumb-dumb. I’m here to help."

"I know," he says, and gives you a wry smile. "Pale for you, too."

You finish off the afternoon at the range and walk off hand-in-hand.

[abnest]

As a Pacific Rimstuck headcanon, once the pregnant Kaiju is defeated and John goes to recover the pieces of brain matter he discovers the Kaiju is pregnant and Casey is the baby. Of course John can't help but fall in love with the little creature and he resolves to hide him in the lab to keep and study (and coo over). Rose quickly finds out because John can't keep a secret and Casey keeps getting out and nearly eats her cat Jaspers. Despite her misgivings, Rose agrees to keep John's secret.

IM IN LOVE WITH YOU

IM DRAWING THIS RIGHT NOW

BYE