#but i’ve mourned it plenty i think

[cringelock]

i think i’ve made peace with romantic relationships not happening for me at least for the foreseeable future. if it hasn’t happened even incidentally atp then that’s fine and maybe it’s not meant to. not everyone gets to have romantic love, right? it’s not necessarily something i need even if it’s something i’ve really really wanted. and it’s not really my fault that i am not what the world tells other ppl to want. it’s not like i can change that. and i have great friends and a family that really loves me, so that can be enough for me. i’ll focus on what i have.

[ayyy-pee]

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Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist. 

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling.  “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?” 

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell. 

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these. 

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’? 

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you���re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing. 

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now. 

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

[missglaskin]

An Eye for an Eye 

Note: THIS STORY WILL NOT HAVE MUCH HAPPY MOMENTS/ENDING

PART 2

Reader takes Lucerys’ place. And to be exclusive, the reader is adopted but has Targaryen blood. This is my first time using plenty of dialogue in hcs. Sorry if this is terrible, I was a bit hesitant to post this 

TW: Sadistic/Dark!Aemond, Explicit: Noncon/Dubcon, hunting kink, knifeplay, forced breeding, dacryphilia, manhandling. Violence: blood, abuse, animal death, bruises/scars, choking. Kidnapping & cursing. 

If you won’t give him your eye, he'll take something far more valuable.

Your mother tightly clutched you, shielding you from Alicent's wrath. “It was an accident,” you told her more than once. The sight of Aemond holding your brother by the neck as he reached for the rock forced your hand. It didn’t matter to Alicent as she reached for Viserys’ dagger, charging at you. 

When Alicent cuts your mother’s arm, the chaos is abruptly put to an end. Alicent drops the blade and stares in horror as everyone witnesses your mother's hand dripping with blood. “Don't mourn me, mother.” Everyone's attention turns to Aemond, who is standing with one eye stitched shut. “I may have lost an eye, but I’ve gained a dragon,” he assures her, leaning against his mother's chest. 

As he says this, his safe eye catches yours, and you are met with a frightening glare. In response, you cling tighter to your mother. As Corlys leads the way to the maester, Rhaenyra extends her safe hand to yours. Looking back, Aemond's gaze has never left yours. 

Though you'd like to think you're glad to be back home, in reality, you hardly feel that way. The vibrant paintings, various dragon motifs, and statues in every nook and cranny are all gone, all life and color sucked out; in their place, you are met with the gray walls and a seven-pointed star. 

While walking with your brothers and taking in the training grounds, you felt some solace that they had remained largely the same. However, when everyone's attention turned to you, your moment of contentment was quickly over. 

A commotion draws your attention, and you push against the onlookers, standing between your brothers to watch. The silver hair immediately catches your eye, and you feel a small flutter of fear upon recognizing the figure. 

The crowd applauds when Aemond emerged victorious. You gape in awe; Aemond did grow to become quite of a formidable swordsman. “Good job, my prince” You heard Criston say, “Soon you’ll be winning tournaments in no time”. 

"I don't give a shit about tournaments”, was his response and without looking, he addressed your brothers. "Have you come to train?" He asks, facing them. Maybe he's just ignoring you; you wouldn’t blame him if he did.  

"Niece," he finally acknowledges your presence before Jace could respond, violet moon-eye glancing in your direction. You swear you saw his eye dart up and down. His smile was unsettling, and Jace held your hand as if sensing your feelings. The conversation abruptly ends when the gates are opened.

Each one stands with their respective families during the court petition. The entire time, you have a sneaking suspicion someone is watching you. When your eyes finally lock, you are unable to turn away lest you appear weak.

During supper, you’re heading to sit next to Helaena. She's such a sweet girl and, unlike her brothers, never seems to harbor resentment toward you. 

“Niece?” Your heart pounds as a smooth voice calls out to you. It's Aemond, "Come sit by me," he says, calling for a servant before you can even respond, ordering them to bring a seat right next to his.

"What are you doing?" Jace asks, face contorted with anger. "I just want to spend time with my niece," Aemond says "I haven't seen her in so many years, not since-" “Aemond” His mother warns him. Everyone has stopped doing whatever they were doing to watch the interaction, and wanting to avoid any possible conflict, you agree. 

"You don't have to do this," Jace whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder. Rhaenyra gives you a worried look, as if she's asking if you wish for her is to intervene. Reassuringly, you pat your brother's hand before settling down next to Aemond. 

The piercing gaze that he casts on you can be felt, but you choose not to meet it. Instead, you continue drinking your wine with your heart thumping the entire time. Finally, you've told yourself the truth; you’re terrified of him. And he knows.

The dinner went smoothly until the pig arrived and Aemond started making his toast. An altercation occurred with Jace punching Aemond, but he didn’t flinch, simply pushing him to the floor. Luke goes to help his brother but is pushed to the table by Aegon. Daemon intervenes, and Jace and Luke are sent to their rooms. 

As he turns to walk away, you don’t miss the quick glance Aemond gives you. As Aegon is compelled to leave as well, you glare at him, and the prince returns your glare with a mocking smile. Your mother reaches for your hand. "Go to bed, my sweet girl. Pay those boys no mind." You nod as she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

As you leave king's landing, you feel quite glad. As you're about to head out to Dragonstone, you look up the bretèche with an eerie feeling. Luke follows your gaze and finds nothing. "Let's go", he tugs your hand. 

Rhaenys returns with news shortly after you settled back in Dragonstone. Viserys, the king, your grandfather is dead, and Aegon has usurped the throne. You were one of the first to know of this, being there when your mother was informed. 

During the council, your brother intervenes when your mother mentions sending ravens to allies. “Send us,” and your mother reluctantly agrees. You volunteer, "I'll go to Storm's End,” and judging from the surprise on her face, it seems she hasn’t even considered you a part of her plan.

Your mother’s protectiveness over you was well known, and you deliberately chose Storm's end, as it was the nearest and safest. Luke will go to the Vale, and Jace to Winterfell. Your mother made the three of you swear to go as messengers, not warriors. 

Before you can follow your brothers, your mother stops you; seeming to notice your worry. She assures you, "Borris is a proud man; he'll be honored to have a princess as his guest, and you'll be most welcomed". She kissed the top of your head as soon as it was your turn to go.

Riding on your dragon, Dame, you already had trouble; storm's end was near, but the weather made the journey challenging. If the storm is any indication, the weather won't get any better, and you were hoping Borris would offer you a room to stay in. Your mother won't certainly mind if you arrive a little later than you should. 

The guards didn't appear in the slightest surprised by your arrival. As you land your feet on the ground, a roar that absolutely shakes you to your core can be heard. Upon turning, Vhagar was there and her sheer size made her seem bigger than the castle itself. The presence of Vhagar meant the presence of Aemond.

You were tempted to turn around and head back, but what would your mother and everyone else say? If Jace and Luke had been here, they would have carried on and done as they were instructed. Heading back means spending the rest of your life being called a coward; a sheep. So you went in, the doors opened by the guards, and there you were, met with Lord Borris seated in his chair. 

When your eyes shifted to the side, you held your breath. A young lady, who you presumed to be Borris’s daughter, standing next to Aemond. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it as he turns to face you. He might have thought your mother would’ve sent one of your brothers instead. 

He gives a half-smirk as the guards inform Lord Borris of your titles. Aemond notices your natural inclination to reach for your sword and raises his brow, seemingly daring you to do so. But you don't, reluctantly putting your hands to the side.

Your eyes move away from him upon greeting Lord Borris, handing him the letter from your mother. When Lord Borris summons the maester, the latter takes his time. Your eyes returned to Aemond, who his hands behind his back, still having the same amused expression. 

The measter whispers to Lord Borris. “Remind me of my father’s oath?” The loudness of Borris’s voice causes you to flinch. He claims that the king at least came with an offer. What offer does yours bring? Your eyes nervously cast a quick glance at the three young ladies standing in line next to their father. It wasn't like you could offer yourself.

“My brothers aren’t free to marry, my lord,” and at that moment, he orders you to leave. That he’s not some dog for the queen."I’ll give your answer to the queen, Lord Borris," you sternly address the lord, taking care to say it with disdain. 

When you turn to leave, the guards move to make a path for you. “Wait," you hear the voice that you’re all too familiar with. For a short second, you stand there, almost weighing your options. Still, you turn to the prince, mentally telling yourself to be brave. He can see your fear. They all can. 

The lady who was standing close to him gives you an unknowing look as she walks away. He chastises, "Did you really believe I'd let you fly away trying to steal my brother's throne without cost." For the time being, you are unsure of where the courage came from as you moved a few steps forward.

 "My mother's throne," you correct him, narrowing your eyes at him with such contempt, "that was taken away by your drunken, perverted brother." The sight of his jaw clenching gives you a small sense of satisfaction, but you are also slightly sickened by your overwhelming fear. 

In an almost preemptive manner, he holds himself straight. You take it as something else, "I'm not here to fight you, I came here as a messenger." He chuckles and says, "A fight would be a little challenge," almost as if the idea of you fighting him was just comical. 

You’re startled when his hand reaches for the eyepatch and pulls it off, exposing a blue sapphire in the place where his eye once was. "No, I want you to put your eye.” 

As soon as he says "as a payment of mine." you take a step backward and look at Borris in fear, but he says nothing. He does nothing. Despite the shared concern, nobody in the hallway moves. 

He reaches under his surcoat and pulls out a blade, saying, "An eye will do," before hurling it at your feet. "Don't you think it's a privilege? "I'm giving you a choice, one that I wasn't given." His tone almost makes you wince. You were reminded of his mother's words years ago, and you wondered what the likelihood was that he would give your eye to her.

You swallowed, working up the courage to say "no" as you looked down at the blade. It didn't come across as you had hoped it would; instead, it came off as much more hesitant and demure. 

He screams for you to give him your eye, and all the resentment he has been suppressing all these years comes to the surface. 'Not in my hall!' Borris screams, finally stepping in, but why did it take so long? 

The guards direct you outside, and you run to Dame. When you look up and see Vhagar gone, your heart sinks. You can feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown, and Dame can sense your panic. She nudges you with her head and you rest your forehead against hers. Trying to calm her, but trying to calm yourself more.

With the wind and rain blowing in your face, you hardly see anything as you ride through the storm. More than anything, you are terrified that you can't seem to find Aemond. 

Looking up, you assumed your heart would drop the moment you see a figure three times the size of Dame. As he circles Vhagar around you, his laughter and taunts can be heard. Several times the dragon has opened its jaws, and if Dame hadn't been so quick, you would have been dragon’s food a while ago. Sometimes you also have to dodge the prince’s arm reaching out to you. 

You make an effort to remain calm. Dame can sense your panic and it will only serve to divert her. Through the confined passageways of the sea cliffs, you briefly managed to escape Vhagar's grasp. However, there was a too-large gap and Vhagar suddenly appeared. Dame backed away, trying to protect you and herself, causing her to slam her side against a cliff's edge.

As Dame screeches in pain, you nearly fell over, holding on so tightly that your palms were burning. As Dame slowly descends, you can feel her wings fluttering as she tries to force her way upward. You are no longer guiding her at this point while she makes her way to a small island. The moment she’s near the ground, she collapses. It caused you to stumble and land on the ground next to her, feeling a sharp pain in your hip.

You feel lightheaded as you reach for the side of your head and see blood on your fingers. The rain is still there, but not as intensely as it was before. Dame is hurt; badly. Seeming to have sacrificed all of her remaining strength to get you both to safety.

But after hearing Vhagar’s roar, was it truly safe? You feel the ground tremble where Vhagar lands and Dame tries to move in and shield you but is too worn out to do so. The prince getting off his dragon should have made you fearful, but Dame's state filled you with fury instead. 

"I ought to have taken your other eye!" You screamed across. It seemed the sword had been lost in flight, but you still had your dagger, removing it from its sheath, and lunging at the prince. But he grabs you by the wrist with little to no struggle. Your other hand tries to move, but Aemond is much quicker. 

In a desperate attempt, you raise your foot to kick him in the knee; it causes him to falter briefly, but it also makes you stumble back down, wincing from the pain in your ribs. 

As soon as he regains his composure, you’re struck across the face with the back of his hand. You start to lose your balance, your ribs aching more and more as you try to breathe and your mouth has a strong taste of copper.

In your almost blurry vision, you can make out the dagger that was dropped when the prince struck you. Trying to reach for it, only to scream in anguish when Aemond slams his boot on your hand; your knuckles aching. 

Your shriek causes Dame to make a faint noise. Still, she’s unable to move. With your hand still under his sole, Aemond reaches down- taking your dagger in hand.

All of a sudden, you are on your back. Gasping when you feel a strong weight on your stomach. As you struggle to open your mouth to breathe, you are on the verge of screaming in agony, but the pain is so intense that you can only emit low shrieks of pain.

For a brief moment, you’ve come to your senses. And there you felt. You see it. A dagger inches away from your eye; your left eye. Out of instinct, you closed them. Wincing when feeling the tip touch the surface of your eyelid.

You cry out, "You-" trying to get the words out, "said it was a fair trade." Then a hand reaches for your throat. Struggling to breathe, desperately clawing at the hand, incoherent noises slipping from your lips.

"A fair trade?" He tightens the squeeze, baring his teeth as his face nears yours. "You made me a fucking cripple," he spits out. The panic on your face remains as your attempts to claw at his hand weakens.

Then he releases his grip, and you can finally gasp for air. Still, the dull rip-piercing pain persists. As you try to breathe properly, you can hear him speaking to you, but they sound so faint that they almost sound like murmurs.

You overhead him utter the word ‘whore’. He called your mother a whore. Your guilt weighs you down as you say nothing to defend her honor. As you do nothing as he continues to throw insults at your mother. It was you she loved the most, he said, her only girl.

His hand reaches for your face, catching a glimpse of your attention. Instinctively, you try to shrink away, but his weight keeps you down. Your hair stood on end when feeling his gentle touch, tracing his finger from the edge of your mouth to the eye he had just threatened to gouge out. Finally, he speaks, “I won’t take your eye, but something far more valuable.”

Gazing at him with confusion and dread; pondering his implications. At the realization, a bullet of panic rises in your throat. The smirk on his face, the way his gaze slides down your body, and most of all, the glow of lust in his eye.

No, no, no; you kept telling him, pleading with him. He moves away, his weight leaving you. Then you're pushed to your stomach. His hand is holding the back of your head. No, you persisted. He wouldn't. You prayed he wouldn't. 

The rain eventually stops as the storm begins to dissipate with the rising sun. One may think it was a wonderful sight, a beautiful day oblivious to the horror that’ll occur. 

Your voice cracks, pleading with the one-eyed prince. Tears and snot spilling down your face. Still, the prince tugs at your trousers, chuckling at the hearing of your pleas. "Virtue is all a lady possesses,” your septa said. 

Gods, how could you ever face your mother and brothers after this. Would anyone believe you. He will ruin you, and what madman would want you after this. What disgrace will you bring to your house, to your family, to your legacy.  

Your cries have grown more frantic. In the distance, you can faintly hear a low growl; Dame. Aemond scoffs when you try to call out to her. He tilts your head farther to the ground, turning to look at your dragon, laughing at her helplessness. 

By the time your trousers are fully down, exposing your lower body to the prince. His gloved hands caress your thighs, and you move them in response, causing him to grab hold of them. With his other hand, Aemond bites the glove off. 

His bare fingers touch your cunt, sliding his fingers through your folds. His other hand, gloved, grabs your hip roughly, holding it in place. He chuckles when feeling your wetness. Humiliated, this time it's you lowering your head to the ground. Recoiling at the taste of dirt on your tongue.

Gasping in surprise when he pushes two fingers inside of you. You don’t want this. You kept reminding yourself. But your body betrays you as pleasure overtakes you, hating how your body nudges itself back, sinking further into his touch. Even as the ecstasy floods your entire body, the pain from his hold on your hip still pierces you. 

Your gaze lands on Dame. She has been groaning and growling the entire time, but you've seen that for a while. She hasn't made a sound. Her stomach was no longer lurching up and down, and her eyes closed. Your sobs intensified when you realize her current state. Behind you, Aemond seems unconcerned, not even giving her a glance as he carelessly takes off his trousers.

You're turned on your back, facing the prince now. Once more, you plead with him. Trying to push against his chest as he clamps your hips down and layers his body on top of you. But your efforts are feeble. You understand it's too late now.

And then it happens. Exhaling painfully on instinct. His hard cock slides into you and you resent how almost easily it eases into you. Yet there is so much pain, hushed groans, and cries slipping out. And his unforgiving pace doesn’t give you the time to adjust to him.

He buries his face into your neck. "Fuck," he curses, "you're so tight, taking me in like a whore". Then you felt him bite into your shoulder; harshly. You were certain that the bite would cause bleeding. He leaves your hips, his hands reaching underneath your back. Bruises will be found later on. If you survive in the first place.

His hips meet yours, almost in an apparent attempt to bury his cock as deep inside of you as he can. As much as you try to resist him, your walls still tighten around him and he groans in return. “You take after your whore mother, don’t you," you say nothing, only tightening your fists.

Then, as his hair feathered your face and his lips inches away from yours, he removes his eye patch. You quickly turn your head to the side, refusing to stare, only to quickly come to regret it as you see Dame's freshly corpse.

A hand grasps your neck, forcing you to look at him, to look at the sapphire. And your gaze must remain fixed on him as he feels himself move deeper with each stroke. He's reminding you; you figure. That everything that led to this moment was caused by you and you alone. 

Hoping to maintain some part of your sanity, your mind wanders. All the while, Aemond places his palm on your stomach, gazing at your tummy bulge; how he must love how well you take him. Almost as if your body was made just for him. 

The touch of his lips brings you back to reality. His lips met yours roughly as if trying to flatten and demolish your mouth. As your mouth opens in surprise, his tongue brushes against your gritted teeth. He could test the blood in your mouth, gripping your head tightly as if he were trying to keep you from fleeing.

Against your lips in a breathy tone, he asks if you've gotten tighter. His sloppy thrusts have roused you, and your eyes are wide as you stare at him. You are aware of what he is about to do. So you try to shove him away. To take your maidenhood was one thing, but this. This was too far, even for him. 

He doesn't give a damn, and you can tell by the bites and bruises he left on every skin he can touch. He cradles you, mockingly asking what’s the matter, all while trying to maintain his ruthless pace. “You’re fond of bastards after all,” referring to your brothers, or as he likes to call them, the strong boys. 

He whispers in your ear, "It would only make sense for you to have one.” You continue to struggle and even manage to hit him, but your slap was feeble. So feeble like you. When hot cum floods your senses, filling you to the brim, tears stream down your face.

It took him a few more thrusts, and then he finally pulled away. Standing ups he puts his trousers back on. He nudges your thighs with his foot, and you instantly know what he wants. Unwilling to struggle, you open your legs, and you can see how much he enjoys the sight of his cum dripping from your cunt.

You can also see how much he enjoys the sight of your strained face and watery eyes. The way your wet hair sticks to your forehead. The way your neck and shoulders have scratches and marks all over. The way you're in pain. The way you're helpless. The way he ruined you. 

For a moment, you thought he would abandon you on the island. What a slow death that'll be. Perhaps you'll die from the infection in your wounds or from starvation. Your body might be found by a sailor, but it's more likely he'll find it when it's decomposed into bones. 

Instead, Aemond grabs your ruined trousers and forces them on you. Pulling you to your feet, but your knees start to tremble, forcing Aemond to support your side. When you see him guiding you toward Vhagar, you try to veer away, but he is far stronger. He forewarns if you do anything, Vhagar will turn you into dragon food, even if he orders her otherwise.

At king's landing, Otto and Alicent are horrified at the sight of Aemond dragging you to the council in the state that you're in.

[imagionationstation]

So here’s what went down…

Ah, yes.

The infamous “Splinter passes on the mantle of Sensei” scene.

Possibly the most misinterpreted scene in the history of 2012turtle scenes. (Perhaps I shall get to the others someday.)

I’ve always assumed that the verdict for this scene was the same for all, and I never knew people hated, or even disliked, Splinter for his choices in this until recently. And it has been eating away at me, because I don’t think ya’ll understand what’s going on here.

Maybe you do, but…

Can I point out exactly what I saw happen here?

Yeah?

Thanks. 🤎

1: Splinter is not sleeping and is ‘distant’, making Leo worried enough to inquire about his health. He’s clearly spending every second agonizing over what’s coming, and meditation is probably his only solace from the burden of his fears. (I do the same thing when I’m anxious. Distract and distance, it helps me feel a sense of- control, I guess.) 2: Splinter does not address Leo’s question. He’s already tried to tell Leo what was going on before this, and now he wants to focus on what he feels is important. His family. He immediately changes the subject (limping in a way that has me suddenly concerned because GUYS HE HURT AND OLD AND GOING TO FIGHT FOR HIS LIFE PLEASE NO-) and asks Leo why he made him leader. 3: Leo awkwardly repeats what he said, “Because I asked to be… You said it wasn’t because of my skills…” (THAT’S ONE INTENSE OF A WEIGHT TO CARRY IF YOU REALLY THINK ABOUT IT, THE HECK-) and Splinter corrects, “I said that only to temper your ego at the time. I knew even when you were a small boy, that you would one day grow up to be the leader of this team.” -Can I just add that he’s not saying this literally. He’s the cryptic, wise, know-it-all sensei. He’s not saying, “I planned to make you soldiers and for you to lead the fight”. He’s saying, “You have always been the one to teach, protect, and lead your brothers, and there was absolutely no one else as perfect for the job.”

Seriously. Lookit baby Leo guarding them while daddy’s away. 💙💙

4: And then he throws everyone watching through a loop: “And when I pass on, to be like a father as well.” And just like us, Leo’s got a whole lot of “EXCUSE ME, WHAT?!” going down.

5: But Splinter’s going stay his cryptic self by clearing no air. (Okay, but let’s think about WHY for a moment. We know our leader in blue by now. If Leo knew exactly what he knew, martyr instincts would kick in hard core, and he would do everything it takes to make sure their father survives. And Master Splinter isn’t going to sit here and let Leo go on a suicide quest. From his POV- He’s old. He’s lived his life. He can try to accept his own death. He will not accept Leo’s.)

6: Splinter imparts this saying that I love with everything in me. “Leonardo. If I can only impart one piece of wisdom that will remain with you forever…” (Ergo, Dude, this is Important. Pay attention to what Imma about to say) “Remember. Giving guidance to your brothers and friends does not come from here…”

“It comes from here…”

THIS IS DEEP, YO. IT SAYS SO MUCH AND IT’S SO SIMPLE-

And people are MAD AT HIM FOR THIS?!

Sorry, sorry- emotions. I’m breathing. I’m breeaaathing… Okay. Yes, I get the gist of the arguments. ‘Splinter made Leo head of the household and that was a terrible thing for him to do. Leo’s too young for that responsibility, he already has the weight of being leader on his shoulders, and that’s a burden his mourning heart can’t carry. It’s cruel for him to do such a thing.’

Or-

And-

@tmntforeverinmyheart and @stardustartist, everyone’s opinion is built off of observations, beliefs, and their own POV on events, and every opinion matters. Thank you for yours. 💚

Now onto mine-

I don’t know what this quote from Splinter means to you guys, but to me, it’s his way of trying to fix things!

I think he finally realized that he done messed up. He knows that he put Leo in a position of ‘I am leader, and mission always comes first’. He’s had plenty of time to see the damage he’s done, and he’s worried of what will come off his family if he doesn’t fix it.

Leo is too far into his head. He isn’t thinking with his heart- “what will happen to my family with me gone?”. He’s thinking with his head, “lives are at stake and I’m the leader- self sacrifice it is.”

Every mission, every step, every choice is a plan, and his life is simply a factor in it. A pawn to be thrown away to complete the important task. It doesn’t hold meaning because of what Splinter told him all the way back in season one, and his father is finally realizing it. (ABOUT FREAKING TIME-)

He’s not telling him “don’t think”.

He’s saying, “Think another way.”

I feel you, @sr200916. A friend of mine said this exact same thing, and I wholeheartedly agree. And here’s some depth into why.

Kids without parents attach themselves to role models. Mother figures, father figures- kids need to be guided, and led, and hugged, and need that one person who can say “it’s okay” and magically the world is a little less dark.

And they’re just. KIDS. They left the sewers three/four years ago! Everything is still so wide and new and confusing and there’s still so much they haven’t learned or experienced- they’re kids.

And yes. Leo is a kid too. But who else are they supposed to turn to?

Karai?

She’s not a parents. She’s gone from enemy, to somewhat friend, to sister-in-college-who-drops-by-sometimes. She’s living her own life. They aren’t going to see her as anything more than their equal. Much less look upon her as a guardian.

April and Casey?

Best friends/honorary siblings. They aren’t going to fit that role.

Mutanimals? Leatherhead? Bishop?

Friends. Equals. People that they trust. But not anyone that they’re immediately going to lean on as a guardian. They need someone who they already look up to and trust to lead and guide them. They need someone who already has their well-being as a number one priority. They need someone who they can feel comfortable going to talk to when he can’t be there to lend advice.

-And I know what some of you are still thinking. But what about Leo?! He’s just a kid too!

And, hey, I’m not arguing. He absolutely is, and in a perfect, fair world, he would continue to have an adult to teach and guide him- but their world is neither perfect nor fair.

All his life, he’s had two solid goals: Make sensei proud. Protect my brothers.

He’s seen as the most mature brother for a reason. He’s had to grow up in a world where finishing school and getting/keeping a job isn’t his main concern. For about three years, he’s spent every night making sure that his brothers stay alive. In fact, he starts doing it almost unconsciously- taking responsibility of his brothers and their missions without filling Splinter in, as shown in Annihilation: Earth! Part 1, when he’s laying out the plans, and Splinter straight up asks, “What is going on?” and Leo brushes him off, essentially just telling him that there’s trouble, but they have it covered.

Splinter is speechless for a moment, but then consents, telling Leo that he’ll be near the cheese phone if they need him.

This is a huge change if you really think about it, and done very subtley. They show us how their relationship has changed- Splinter no longer has the control to give the okay. Leo no longer feels like he needs Splinter guidance or permission. He’s grown up, and he’s leading with a firm hand, just as he was born to do.

And Leo also has experience raising his brothers- who do you think was acting sensei while they were in space?

Fugtoid was Donnie’s mentor, sure, but it was Leo who the brothers turned to when things got out of hand. It was Leo who had to talk sense into them, who always has the last word, who seemed on edge 24/7 as the season progressed, seeing the dangers space held and sending away his team when the evil space station was sent to go boom.

Whether fans like it or not, a leader, a sensei, is simply who Leo is.

There’s a reason he always gets heated and offended when he thinks his place is being challenged-

Leo thrives under that sense of control, and his brother thrive knowing that the control lies in someone else’s hands.

Now, with their father gone, it’ll lie in the hands of the brother that they trust with it most (whether Raph admits it or not) because he’s proven himself time and time again to be able to handle it.

Splinter isn’t stupid. He knows his boys. He knows exactly who Leo’s younger brothers are going to turn to after he’s gone for good this time, and he needs Leo to realize this too. Perhaps he hopes the burden will be easier to bear if it’s given slowly, instead of chucked out of nowhere.

Splinter was not purposefully ‘parentifying’ Leo. There’s a reason he waited so long. Maybe he was never going to say anything at all. Maybe he was struggling with the choice, and when Leo walked in to ask if he was okay, he made a last-minute decision.

Splinter knew it was going to happen. Leo was going to become head of the household, whether or not he said anything about it. It’s how their family dynamic always shapes out- there’s a reason the fans call Leo a mother hen!

It was always going to happen. So instead of standing by and letting fate play out, Splinter decided to interviene.

He wasn’t putting the burden on Leo’s shoulder. He was reassuring his son that he could handle it. He was giving advice on how to take care of his brothers. He was trying to help, not to hurt.

Obviously Leo is going to end up hurting. Obviously, it’s going to be hard. Obviously, it’s going to be a lot to adapt too. For Splinter’s sake- their father is going to die!

But his brothers will be there for him. He may be acting sensei, but we’re shown that they have his back. (Raph’s talk with Mikey on the rooftop is a very prominent piece of proof.)

Splinter knows that no one else can do the job better, and by voicing that he’s sensei, no one else should be able to take Leo’s family away from him. At the end of the day, as the eldest, he will be the one who bears the Hamato legacy (remember, Karai is busy shaping the Foot legacy anew), but unlike Yoshi, Leo will not be alone. He’ll have family and friends to back him up when things get difficult.

It’s a heavy title, but one that Leo is ready to carry.

Except… For one pretty major flaw. A flaw Splinter encouraged, and a flaw that he knows cannot stay.

The martyr complex.

That, is what I believe the “use your heart and not your head” phrase is meant to squash. And I believe with everything in me that it does. Leo’s life is no longer just a chess game. If this pawn doesn’t come home from a mission, his team suffers. His brothers suffer.

He is no pawn, and he can’t afford to see himself as one. He cannot afford to treat his life like it’s expendable. There’s more at stake then just the mission, and deep down in his heart, he knows that. He’s no longer just a leader. He is a father, and he has a family to live for.

And… Can I just add that Splinter’s not just up and abandoning him?

When Leo doesn’t know what to do next after his father is gone- Splinter is there. When it looks like he’s been defeated by the Shredder- Splinter is there. When they face their first real threat since his passing, and Leo is in the dojo struggling with what to do- Splinter is there.

“Leonardo, I know you feel the weight of leading your family, but remember, I am always with you.”

I mean- come on! Even in the afterlife, he’s looking over him!

He knows the burden on his son’s shoulders, and he’s come to help and warn to relieve it, if only a little.

Should he also have appeared to his others sons? ABSOLUTELY!

Could he…?

Well…

Don’t get me wrong- They’d have every right to be upset if they find out that Splinter appeared to Leo and not to them. But I’m sure there was a good reason- Leo mentions “meditating for weeks” after his father’s death at one point, so his spiritual strength, place in front of the altar, and need to speak to his father could have urged down “Mr. Higher Spiritual Plane”.

That’s why Donnie couldn’t see him when he walked in. This wasn’t a ghost doing his own thing, this was a spirit summoned down by Leo. When Donnie startled him, Leo lost concentration, and Splinter disappeared.

But, it’s still going to hurt, knowing he appeared to Leo and not them…

And should he have told his other sons that he was going to die?

….No. Just, no.

For one: He only hinted at the fact with Leo because he felt it was necessary to pass on certain information, to help him prepare for what’s coming. He didn’t give him specifics, no matter how much he begged.

If he told any of the brothers- Donnie would not rest until he pressed him for every ounce of information, Mikey would not have been able to handle the thought of something happening to Splinter, and Raph probably would have died that night on the rooftop trying to stop the prediction from becoming reality.

All of them would have wanted to stay with him after the warehouse fire, and I believe Splinter separated them for a reason.

As the youngest brothers, Donnie and Mikey needed to be shielded from memories that their analytical and photographic minds would not have been able to handle. It would have broken them to see their father die.

Leonardo would spent the rest of his days hating himself for being there and not preventing it. He’d drown in the guilt and fear- because if he couldn’t doing anything, how can he be certain that he’ll be able to keep his brothers safe? How can he be trusted with their lives when he couldn’t even save their father?

This way- Leo knows he’s been sent away, and he knows Splinter’s the reason that he couldn’t protect him. The blame isn’t as strong because he wasn’t there, and that was Splinter’s fault. It’s easier to manage when there’s another to pass on the blame.

Splinter didn’t let him protect him, and by doing so, protected Leo.

Now, Splinter’s sons would have put up a fuss or gotten suspicious if one of them didn’t go with him, so he made an educated choice.

Raphael is the strongest of the brothers. Out of all of them, he’s the most likely to mentally and physically survive the battle. He doesn’t let guilt swallow him like Leo does- he turns it into anger, and uses that anger to defend his family better next time. Out of all of them, Splinter hoped that Raph would be able to handle the memories, and the show basically tells us that he does- his maturity to accepting Leo as sensei was both shocking and relieving.

Now, I’m not saying every choice made here was inherently a good one. There’s a lot of choices made in Splinter’s life that are questionable- but every choice he makes is only in his sons’s best interest. At one point, Splinter was going to run the last of his clan. He was raised to prepare for war. His sensei could have groomed him with a leader mentality, and the notion to never put his life over the sake of his clan’s, since he was supposed to lead them one day.

He’s a single dad living in the sewers who doesn’t understand the internet and fears human contact- the only way he knows to raise his children are based off experiences with his own family, and his culture. Making Leo a martyr was a mistake, and he sees that now.

So to summarize:

No one was being made a parent. Leo is a verified mother hen, and he will lead. Period. It was always going to happen, and Splinter was trying to help lead the way. He probably would have given a lot more advice had his other children not interrupted.

Yes, he made a huge mistake years ago, but now he’s trying to fix that with a simply offering of advice. Follow your heart, not your mind, because at the end of the day, the heart will always lead you and your brothers home.

No, the entire family should not have known. They would have done everything in their power to stop what could not be prevented, and that could have gotten them killed. Splinter would never allow that. Their time was not up. They would not needlessly suffer because of him. Not his boys.

Just a side note: Taking care of his brothers might not be the worst thing for our mourning boy. Not only does it give him something to focus on, but, as an older sibling, I know it sometimes brings me comfort to comfort a young sibling. Maybe it’s some buried instinct in my being to keep them happy and healthy taking over, maybe it’s because I have a tiny bit of control in the moment, or maybe it’s a feeling of accomplishment that helps battle against the aching hurt eating away at me- but it helps. It really does.

It’s not like their infants, or little kids. His brother’s can fend for themselves, and they understand their place in the world much better than they did years ago. They can protect each other.

In reality, the only thing that will change is the hovering knowledge that someone is missing.

Holy chalupa, I just wrote an essay…

Back to the episode!

The rest of this isn’t too deep. So have some reactions:

“I don’t understand… You’re fine, father-”

🎶I can see what’s happenin’ here🎶

HE CALLED HIM DADDY IN A DOJO SETTING AFTER ASSURING HIM THAT HE WAS WELL!

POOR BABY BLUE KNOWS BUT IS STUCK IN DENIAL- 😭❤️‍🩹

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Leo, he is trying to tell you! And he could have! If not for literally MILLISECONDS after he asks, Mikey interrupting. Splinter might have clarified! He might have said more! Hinted how he knows! Said he was so proud! Given advice! Cleared the air! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS-

Ah, these poor naive boys and their bad timing….

Okay, but like, how am I supposed to be annoyed at these faces. AND WHY IS RAPH OH-SO JOYOUSLY COPYING MIKEY- AND DONNIE WHAT IS THAT DEAD-EYED STARE- 🤣🤣🤣

YA’LL ARE MESSING UP MY EMOTIONS IN THIS FREAKING SCENE, YO

I’M TRYING TO BE SERIOUS IN THE MOMENT

BUT EVERY TIME THEY POP UP- 🤣

Okay, but is Splinter immediately taking the invitation to spend time with his sons because he knows that he doesn’t have much longer not the most wholesome thing ever?

He can’t continue this talk with the brothers present, and they’re clearly excited to go, so why not attend and make a few more bright memories before he’s gone?

Also, I deem it illegal for rock music to be this ominous-

I blame Leo for looking despondently after them and triggering bad things are about to happen emotions. Poor blue boi.

Anyway

Splinter is not a bad father. He is imperfect, but every choice he makes is for his sons’ good. They are his world. Their lives will come before his every time, even if that means giving heartbreaking advice before he has to be taken from them. He only wants what’s best for his family.

They are his sons. He is their papa.

And that’s all there is too it. 💚❤️💜💙🧡💚

I freaking love this show…

Thanks for reading!! I did my best to double-check everything that I wasn’t sure about, so that I could be as accurate as possible! Even if I didn’t change stubborn minds, I hope I gave you guys some things to think about!

Every opinion matters! Thanks for checking out mine!

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 13 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur get to know the town better, getting to know each other better in the process.

Author’s Notes: This chapter needed some major reconstruction, so I apologize for the wait on it! I split it in half and completely changed the ending, but I’m so glad I did because it’s one of my favorite chapters now. Enjoy all the fluff and these two getting drunk together for the second time :) Chapter thirteen of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Thirteen: Townsfolk

Word count: 5416

You startled awake at some point in the night, darkness pushing in through the lone window. Once you had your bearings, a sudden panic overtook when you realized Arthur wasn’t there until you saw him lying on the floor beside you. You’d slept through his return. And the fool had refused to wake you, had let you have the bed. This was no better than lying under canvas for him. You told yourself you would berate him for it once he woke, but the thought soon eddied away when your tiredness overtook you once more, your panic easing away now that you knew he was there beside you, that you didn’t have to face the bedroom alone. You fell back into dreams of your family, of a past life, of a time when you were never alone.

~

You must have truly needed rest, as you awoke a second time to Arthur reentering the room, having slept through him ever leaving it. You were normally a lighter sleeper.

“Just stabled Harriet and Bo,” he said. “Figured they could use a good rest and plenty of hay.”

“Does this mean we’re staying?” You couldn’t help the hope that lined those words.

Arthur caught it and smirked. “What, my company that miserable?”

Truth be told it was…quite the opposite. But before you could blush over the thought of that kiss, you pushed on. “You don’t see me running for the hills. Yet.”

“Yet,” he replied with a low laugh. He turned to the small mirror and basin the room had to offer, running his hand over his beard. It had grown long in the time you’d been traveling with him. His hair had too, starting to hang down past his eyes when his hat wasn’t pinning it back.

“You’re starting to look like a Montanan,” you told him. Starting to, because most men’s beards were twice the length of his in those snowy mountains.

“I usually keep it short,” he said, still looking at his reflection. “But it’s sure as shit been cold enough not to.”

You shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“The cold or the beard?” he asked, his hand falling as he turned to you. And when his eyes landed on you, the room suddenly felt a little smaller.

“The cold. Afraid I’ve no experience on the latter.”

He smirked, and you hated how much that look burned you up inside. You turned away.

“Well,” he said. “I’m starving. Want to go eat a proper meal? See a little of this country for yourself?”

Your heart gave a nervous kick at the very idea.

“It’s either that, or you’re staying here,” he added, and you knew without having to look at him he was just trying to rile you. Of course you would come with him, no matter how begrudgingly you did.

“Forgive me for not liking either of those options.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and I can think of worse ones. Especially having to deal with me when I haven’t eaten, so come on.”

You rolled your eyes and wondered when the day would come that he would stop using his humor to get you to agree to things. Or maybe when you would finally find the will not to listen.

You threw your legs over the bedside and stood, realizing you were still wearing his clothes. “It won’t be…odd for me to walk around looking like this?”

“Like that? Sure,” he said with a laugh.

You glared at him. His amusement wasn’t helping.

“Here,” he said, crossing the room. And you let him invade your space without pause as he turned up your coat collar, sticking your hat low on your head to hide your hair. No matter that your heart was racing. That you felt disappointment take hold when he stepped away.

“Could pass for a man now. Ain’t no one looking a man’s way, ill-fitting clothes or no.”

“Great,” you said flatly. But Arthur just gestured to the door, and you scowled and did as he said, making for it.

After eating one very well-deserved meal of oatmeal piled with sugar, you and Arthur explored the town. It was interesting to see how mankind lived all intertwined like this. And sure enough, you got to look around relatively unnoticed. After a stop at the launder for your and Arthur’s clothes in which you weren’t even glanced at, you came out with a newfound confidence. It was nice being looked over, being an afterthought. All you had ever known of other people was unwanted attention, and now you felt freer than you ever had around so many eyes. It made for an enjoyable morning.

Arthur found a barber and stopped in, annoyed with all that hair after all. You sat outside in the sunshine and watched the people mill about. If where you were headed was anything like this for you, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You were basking in the rare heat when you heard spurs clicking in your direction.

“Ready to go back?” Arthur asked.

You turned to answer, but when your gaze landed on him, words escaped you. His beard was now nothing more than stubble, his hair shorter but still framing his face, his hat in his hands instead of on his head for once. He was…distractingly handsome.

Apparently thinking you had fallen into another one of your spells of not speaking, Arthur put his hat back on his head. “I posed that like a question, but let me rephrase. You’re coming with me.”

The way he cleaned up so well plus him demanding that of you…it had you blurting out words to shake your sudden stupor.

“Why not stay? Get to know the town a little better, I mean.”

He smirked at you. You couldn’t figure why, your nerves at looking at him making it hard to do so.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” he jeered.

“What?”

“You, sitting around enjoying the place.”

“I just- I’ve never-”

“Save it,” he said, holding up a hand. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But tell you what, let’s go back, let it get dark, then I’ll show you around. Town’s always best at night anyhow.”

You could feel the nerves veritably rushing through you at the prospect of that, at all these people, at him. But you just nodded and stood. “Lead the way then.”

You were pondering what it would be like to finally get to experience this kind of life when you looked up and were faced with Arthur’s broad back, his mere presence carving a path through the people walking about. Had it always been that broad? And had he always looked that good in that big coat?

You shook your head to get that particular madness out of it and went back to watching the townsfolk. Anything to distract you from the one thing you wouldn’t allow yourself to think of for the remainder of this trip.

Nearing the hotel, you still felt those cursed nerves, but you had fully convinced yourself they were nothing more than timidness over the town. Certainly not a lone room and a bed and an outlaw to keep you company.

~

Arthur sat in the chair in the corner of the room and drew in his journal. He had stripped his coat, the heat of the day making it sweltering inside the hotel. He was just glad it wasn’t snowing. He’d had enough of that to last him the year. So he took up his time drawing the town you found yourselves in, debating what trouble to get you into tonight. He’d told himself miles back he’d show you how to cut loose for once, only now it seemed not the brightest idea he’d had. Now all he could think of was those men’s eyes on you at that shit hole of a trading post. But he’d given you his word, and he wouldn’t go back on it. Not when you had shown genuine excitement for once, all over seeing the glamor of city living. Well, glamor was a stretch, but it was something to you at least. More than could be said for Montana. So he sketched down a few bricks on a building side, debating all the while some type of harmless fun. Harmless, because his type of fun usually ended up being anything but. He wouldn’t show that particular genius to you lest you both end up in a jail cell. He grinned at the very thought.

The sound of the creaking bed reached Arthur’s ears, and he snuck a glance at you, seeing you sprawled out on your back, lazily reading the ledger you held above you. You were calmer here. He could tell you felt safe when you had been fine staying outside while he visited the barber earlier. And especially when you’d wanted to stay. Considering what happened in the last settlement, he was surprised you even wanted to do that much. But this trip would be coming to an end in a few short weeks, and maybe you, like he, knew it was time you got used to being on your own. Or without him, more like. Though he did feel a certain pride that you felt so safe around him, the same pride that still plagued him while he sat there admiring his shirt on you. It made him want to…well. Best not to think on that.

“Think I could make it as a trader in Nebraska?” Your eyes remained on the ledger despite the question.

“I know you could,” Arthur said, going back to drawing. “Better question is, would you want to?”

You sat up then, sitting cross-legged on the bed in a way that drew his eye.

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at hunting,” Arthur said. “Those are two different things. You want to be a traveling salesman on top of that?”

“Maybe. Probably not.” You looked down at the ledger, your lower lip catching between your teeth. It took everything in Arthur not to stare at your mouth. “I don’t know,” you went on. “Maybe I could have a stall in town. I’m sure I could sell something if it was as valuable as what Pa used to sell.”

“Sure,” Arthur said, surprised at your ambition. How far you had come, willing to consider opening your own stall in a town you used to think you would never make it to. Planning a future for yourself. He was proud of you for it.

“Anyway,” you said, shutting the ledger and setting it aside. “You got any thread? Sewing needle?”

He let his amusement show. “No.”

You scoffed. “Of course you don’t. I was going to offer to sew up your coat.” You pointed at it where it lie on a trunk under the window, the afternoon sun shining down on it.

“Well, I ain’t got any.”

“Sure.” Then you stood and crossed the room, headed right for the door.

“Where you think you’re going?”

“To find some. Most women have a needle and thread on them. At least, the ones working here probably do. I’ll go ask.”

“Hang on. I didn’t keep you cooped up in here all day just to get snatched now,” Arthur said.

“I won’t get snatched,” you said, already opening the door and shooting him a glare all at once. Like an entirely different person from the one who had followed his every step just yesterday. For some reason, this sudden confidence shut Arthur up, and he let you be. The door closed behind you with force, leaving him shaking his head and going back to his journal.

The minutes ticked by, and Arthur got to a stopping point with his drawing and stood, moving to the window to have something to do with his restlessness. Looking out over the back street, he spied a small, dingy-looking saloon that didn’t even have a name, just ‘saloon’ written in big block letters. It would normally be a place he would be drawn straight to if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t take you there. Certainly not with the kind of population that frequented those places. His population, he thought with a chuckle. You were damn lucky Dutch and Hosea had drilled some manners into him, what few they could. But the place did give him an idea for the night’s festivities.

The door creaked open behind him, and Arthur turned to find you with thread in hand, showing it off in triumph.

“Told you. She even had blue.”

“How ‘bout that?” he teased, though he was secretly grateful you had gone so far as to get the proper color thread. No one else would have bothered with something like that.

You motioned to his coat, and he picked it up and threw it to you. You took his spot in the lone chair and set to work, Arthur trying not to watch too closely. He instead went to looking back out the window, thinking of what the pair of you could get up to.

“This is a pretty wide gash. You sure you didn’t get scratched too bad?”

Arthur hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the scratch the wolf had left behind on his arm. He had enough scars to forget to worry about the smaller ones.

“Nah, it ain’t bad. Don’t need any stitches at least.”

You were quiet for a moment, likely thinking of your own nasty scar. Then, “Your shirt needs mending too. I’ll work on it once we get it back from the launder.”

Arthur looked at you then. You were never so nice to him this…willingly. It reminded him of when you’d cleaned the blood off his face, and the thought made something finally click in his brain.

“You do this kind of thing for your parents?”

He knew he’d gotten it right when you didn’t immediately respond. Then, in a small voice, “Momma taught me.”

You didn’t talk about her much. Usually only your father and all he had taught you. But Arthur was willing to bet that defiance in you didn’t come from him. It was a trait best suited to daughters who had learned how to fight through testing their mothers.

“Well, I’m glad she did. I’m dogshit at sewing.”

You snorted a laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You may be pretty at shooting a gun, but sewing’s a far cry with those big hands.”

Arthur felt his face heat at the word pretty but barreled through the feeling it brought him. “I sewed you up just fine.”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You went red. “And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

He felt his smile widen of its own volition. “Never.”

You didn’t respond, only smiled down at your sewing. Then you were bringing the needle away, gathering up the thread. “Done.” You handed the coat back to him. He took it and examined the new patch, a small line of darker blue now marring his right coat sleeve. It was a token of sorts—something to forever remind him of this trip.

“Thanks.” He meant it. You just waved him off.

Instead of putting the coat down, he put it on, not buttoning it up to keep the heat at bay. “Well, we may as well get going before the shops close. I have one more errand to run.”

You didn’t hesitate to stand, your eagerness returning. “What errand?”

He grinned. “You’ll see, nameless.”

He hadn’t called you that in a while, and it had you swatting at him as you passed, heading for the door. He opened it before you could, holding it ajar for you with hand outstretched. It made you even madder, and all he could do was laugh as he shut and locked the door behind you both.

The town was livelier at this hour, just as Arthur suspected it would be. Most folks were off work, in town to blow off steam after a long day. The heat had tapered off with the setting sun, turning it into the perfect golden evening. It was as good an introduction to regular life as you would ever get.

“You plan on telling me where we’re going?”

Arthur glanced at you, at your funny-looking clothes. “We could always stop at the launder, get you your clothes back.”

You caught the amusement on his face and frowned. “I don’t want them back yet. I was enjoying blending in just fine earlier.”

He figured. Looking ahead, Arthur found the shop he needed just down the main road. “Going to the gunsmith. I need more revolver cartridges since you shot all mine at nothing.”

“And you wonder why I’m mad at you all the time,” you muttered under your breath. He grinned.

The gunsmith had a fairly bare-bones shop, but it had what Arthur was looking for. He coughed up the money and was soon putting the cartridge boxes in his satchel, getting a few out to stick them in his gun belt.

“As riveting as this is,” you said, watching him do it, “I had hoped for a more…memorable evening. To be one of the townsfolk, if you will.”

Arthur finished and waved at the gunsmith, opening the door for you. “You always gotta be on a man’s case so bad?”

“It’s the duty of every woman.”

Arthur barked a laugh and pointed at the saloon he had already scoped out—the Red Horse. It was the biggest of the three saloons he had seen in town. Biggest usually meant easiest to blend into. “That’s where we’re headed. You up for it, miss townsfolk, or is that not memorable enough for you?”

He could see your eyes catch on it, see the way you clammed up with nerves before you calmed yourself back down. “No, memorable is a good word, I think.”

“Good. Come on then.” You both made to cross the street, but a horse and rider came barreling through so fast from around the corner you didn’t see it in time. Arthur grabbed your hand and yanked you back. He expected you to be cross about his saving your hide, as you tended to be, but instead you looked down at your hand. He was still holding it. He dropped it and cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

You wouldn’t meet his eye then, turning to attempt the street again. Or maybe to get ahead of him so he couldn’t see that blush on your face, but it was too late for that. He had seen it, and it was making him stare after you like an idiot.

Arthur remembered himself and rushed after you, putting all meaning of that blush behind him lest he let some pitiful semblance of hope get to him.

The saloon was lively and growing fuller by the minute, the bar full and nearly all of the tables the same.

“Beer or whiskey?” he asked you, having to talk loud over the man at the nearby piano as he pushed you into the room.

“Beer,” you responded, busy taking in the scene before you. Life at its very simplest. Gambling, alcohol, and a good time. Women, too. There were women hanging off of men’s arms everywhere, and Arthur hoped the sight would settle you some, as it seemed to settle you having women around in that hotel.

“Over here.” Arthur steered you toward the bar and let you stand behind him as he got the barman’s attention. He placed his order and handed more money over, thinking he needed to count through all he had left before the trip was over. He didn’t want to find himself without the means to get back to his gang. The bartender handed him two beers, and all thought of that washed away as Arthur pushed back through the growing crowd with you and made for a less populated wall to stand against.

Enjoying the first taste of his beer with more satisfaction than he could name, Arthur sat back and watched you. He had to keep from laughing at the way your head kept turning in all directions to take everything in. This would be a regular night for him, given that the gang had made it into town, but for you it was likely a whole new world.

“Careful not to hurt your neck there,” he said, smiling over his beer.

You shot him a dirty glance but saw him drinking and seemed to remember the beer in your own hand. You brought it to your mouth to take a sip, and Arthur couldn’t resist watching the way your lips touched the bottle. Something shot through him at the sight that he let be for once.

“God, that’s terrible,” you said, cringing. “Is there any alcohol that doesn’t taste like shit?”

He chuckled. “Probably not. But that’s not why you drink it.” He thought of how much gin he had downed with you that had led to a kiss and knew that to be true.

The pair of you took to arguing over how well you could handle yourself in a town like this before a game of poker across the way got so rowdy it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“Ever played cards?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t know how.”

“Come watch me then. I’ll show you.” And, at your sudden reluctance, “Relax, I won’t make you play.”

You eyed him and took another swig of beer before cringing just as noticeably, motioning at him to lead the way.

There were only two players left sitting at the poker table, but both had such high stacks of chips that Arthur knew better than to get in on the game until after one busted. Those high stakes were also why a crowd had gathered and was cheering so loudly for one man or the other. The pair of you watched alongside them, most rooting for the yellow-haired working stiff nearest you. The other man, a well-dressed but worse for wear man with a hatted, dark-haired head had men cheering for him that all looked just like him—well-dressed but sloppy.

“Stick it to him, boy!” someone shouted at the working man. His cards were visible to those standing behind him, showing a strong hand—two high-value diamonds to the flop’s two of the same suit.

Arthur knew as the turn revealed the third diamond—giving the man a flush—that he had his opponent beat. And sure enough, he went all in. Either bluffing or drunk, the other man followed suit and swiftly lost all his winnings.

“Now, now hold on,” he slurred, standing. “I saw him stick that diamond up his sleeve an hour ago!”

“Awe, save it, Lawrence!” someone in the crowd shouted back.

Arthur was too amused to notice you leave until he turned to find you gone entirely. Panic overtook him before he spotted you against the nearest wall, watching from a distance. He stormed over.

“What are you doing running off like that?”

“I didn’t want to be in the middle of…whatever that is.” You pointed to the poker table, and Arthur watched as the interaction between the two players started to get heated, the slimy-looking one not wanting to pay up.

He turned back to you. “Fair enough. But warn me next time.”

You eyed him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You turned your attention back to the others, taking another sip of beer. And Arthur was mad at you for it, for distracting him like that when he should have been giving you a piece of his mind. But instead he watched your mouth again, watched as your lips pursed against the glass and thought of how they had felt against his own. He turned away and took a sizable drink himself.

To take his mind off of things, Arthur started explaining poker to you, namely the game that had just been played. You asked a few of the usual questions—what call and check meant and why the seedy man’s high card didn’t win him the game. Arthur finally seemed to explain things well enough that you said, “I get it. Go play then. I’ll watch.”

“I ain’t leaving you over here.”

“I know you want to play, Arthur. Go. I’ll stand closer if it makes you feel better.”

The sarcasm lining your words had him ready to argue.

“Just go,” you said with a small smile, pushing against his chest. Your hands on him made him comply. Made him melt into compliance, more like.

“I’m…getting another beer,” he said. “Then poker.” He hadn’t even realized he was out until then.

“Go then. I’ll be fine here.” Arthur really didn’t want to leave you. But you were looking at him with a light in your eyes you didn’t normally have. And he knew, stubborn fool that he was, that he wouldn’t always be there to protect you. Now was as good a time as any to test you when you were so comfortable being left alone.

“Stay here,” he said, voice filled with as much authority as he could muster.

“Yes, Arthur,” you teased, and even that did something funny to his insides. Christ, what the hell was he doing, getting so worked up? He needed to be drunker than this. Much drunker.

Two beers later and deep in his cards, Arthur kept turning to make sure you were there. You always were, usually shaking your head at him for the way he played his cards—he was almost out of chips to show for it.

He had a decent hand but not a great one when he heard you come up behind him and whisper, “Fold.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw the other man’s cards.”

Arthur had to stifle his laugh, but he did as you said. Then he was finishing his beer, cashing in while he still had some money left, and leaving the table. Only when you were far enough away so as not to be overheard did he turn to you. “That’s cheating, you know. I didn’t take you for a cheater.”

“I didn’t take you for a terrible card player.”

“I walked into that,” Arthur said as he stepped up to the bar to order yet another beer, this time two. Once in hand, he gave you the second one. “Cheers.”

You looked around for something to do with your empty bottle. “Here,” Arthur said on a laugh, forgetting how much you really didn’t know about this sort of thing. He took it, set it on the bar top, and turned back to you. “Now. To long, miserable, back-breaking travel. And not long left to go.” He held his bottle neck out to yours.

You smiled. “To you, Arthur.” You clinked the bottles together.

“Awe, come on, nameless. Don’t get sappy on me now.”

That smile of yours remained, and Arthur returned it before turning his bottle up.

The night went on, more beer drank and more people spilling in the doors than you had likely ever seen in your life. Arthur knew he was due to be cut off when he saw a few patrons dancing and thought it a good idea for the two of you to join them. Just for a moment. Then he came to his senses. But he asked you anyway, knowing it would irk you.

“Spare me a dance?” He held his hand out to you.

You swatted it away. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t think you know the meaning of that word.”

He barked a laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why don’t you show me this big, bad outlaw I’m supposed to be traveling with instead?”

“What?” He turned to you, shocked you brought it up.

“I keep hearing about him,” you joked. “Haven’t seen him for myself yet.”

“And you ain’t going to. You don’t want to.”

You leaned in close to talk low, and Arthur made a point not to look at you lest he think about how easy it would be to kiss you. “You mean to tell me you haven’t thought of picking anyone’s pocket tonight? Not one?”

Truth be told, he had. It was overcrowded, the patrons were drunk, and it would be easy enough to get lost or blame it on someone else if things went south. But he wouldn’t risk that with you here.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Some outlaw you are,” you teased, and the winning smile you gave him stopped him in his tracks. Half for the look of it, half for how happy you could be while talking about the worst parts of him. Like it didn’t matter that he wasn’t a good man. Like you enjoyed his company anyway. He couldn’t say how much that meant to him.

“Anyway,” you droned on, finishing the last of your beer. “Let’s go back. I’m tired.”

“You’re even whinier when you’re drunk,” he quipped, but he downed his beer too, even through the particularly hard hit you landed on his arm for that one.

He got up and motioned toward the door. “Lead the way then.” You shot him a mischievous look he wanted to kiss right off your mouth. But too quickly, you turned and nearly disappeared into the crowd, so for the second time, Arthur grabbed your hand to keep up with you. The warmth of it in his grasp filled him with whatever happiness he had left. Especially when you wound your fingers through his and led him on.

The two of you made it outside, and only then did you drop his hand, never bringing any attention to the fact that you held it in the first place. He wanted to grab yours again, keep it held in his all the way back. But, he realized, you were already walking, not looking back. He jogged to catch up. Then, like a fool, he debated threading his fingers through yours every step of the way back. He never quite found the courage.

It only hit Arthur that you were about to join him in this hotel bedroom, and that he very much didn’t want to sleep on the floor, when you stepped through its doorway. He watched you shed your coat and hat and boots, doing the same so as not to draw attention to the way his eyes caught on you. After he got his satchel and gun belt off, he turned to find you already curled up in the bed like a cat.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor again, are you?” you said through a yawn.

“My back may never recover,” he joked.

“Come up here then.”

You said it so simply—such an easy thing to agree to. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t resist doing it. So he lifted the sheets and laid down beside you, letting you curl around him in a way that had his heart pounding through his shirt. You laid your head right on it and yawned again. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“That’s a relief. Let me know if it stops.”

You let out a laugh. A genuine, easy laugh that had Arthur wanting to turn your face to his and kiss you then and there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The two of you were just lonely and drunk and had each other for company. That didn’t mean he could do something you may not want from him—something you didn’t understand. Not to mention how it would eat at him when he had to leave you so soon. So, he didn’t turn your face to his. He wrapped his arm around you instead and pulled you close, his head resting atop yours in a way that was so comforting it was almost worse.

“I’m glad you’re here, Arthur.”

Your voice was small, heavy with tiredness. And the words cut into him, because he was the one you wanted to help heal your loneliness. Of all people, him.

“I’m glad to be here, nameless.” He truly was.

After long enough that he thought you asleep, you whispered, “Not nameless.”

“What then?” He had never wanted to know a name so badly in all his life.

You just yawned again, curling against him. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Arthur smiled, looking forward, for the first time in a long time, to waking up.

_________

Chapter fourteen is here.

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[mirisss]

Fated To Feel

Part 2 of Fated No More

Enhypen OT7 x afab! reader

Wordcount ≈ 4k. 

Warnings: talk of depression, angst, manipulation, cheating, slight sexual innuendo, sleep deprivation, panic attack, I think that’s it, let me know if I’ve missed anything. 

Summary: After (Y/n) moved away her soulmate marks began fading while Enhypen was being punished for their actions by experiencing constant itchiness from their marks. Will (Y/n) find someone else? Will Enhypen realize their mistake? Can they be reunited? And most importantly, can (Y/n) forgive Enhypen for everything they said and did? 

Because of popular demand, here is part 2 of Fated No More. Thank you for all the support on part 1, I hope you will like this one too. Fated No More is one of my personal favorites so I’m very happy to see so much positive response to the story. 

I jump around a bit in the timeline so it might be a little confusing but I hope it makes sense. 

There will be a third part as well, but I felt like this was getting quite long so I decided to split it up. So this turned into a mini-series, hope you like it!  

Perhaps fate was punishing them for the way they acted toward (Y/n), the truth might never be known, but the thing that is certain is that they are fated no more.

Third Person POV

As Enhypen left (Y/n) in the HYBE building they didn’t care about the possible consequences that would follow as they all were too in love with (name). As they arrived home, they told (name) of what had happened and that (Y/n) said she would leave them alone from now on. (name) was very satisfied with this, she knew Enhypen wouldn’t leave her now that they had rejected their true soulmate. (name) had found her true soulmate not too long after Jake mistook her for their soulmate, at first she was going to leave them but then she realized that if she stayed with Enhypen she could get money from them and she wouldn’t have to work. And with their packed schedule, she could spend plenty of time with her true soulmate while the boys were working. Her true soulmate agreed to the plan as they figured some extra easy money wouldn’t hurt. (name) always feared that the boys would leave her if they found their true soulmate but now she had proof that they wouldn’t, that they couldn’t. All she had to do now was make sure they didn’t find out about her true soulmate whom she said she had rejected for them.

It was a shortlived victory though, as only a month after rejecting (Y/n), Sunghoon had left their practice earlier than planned due to feeling a bit unwell, and as he came home, he was expecting to find (name) in front of the TV watching the drama she was currently obsessed with, only to find her in bed with another man. (name) was freaking out and didn’t know how to handle the situation, screaming at her soulmate to get out. Sunghoon quickly called the others telling them they needed to come home ASAP. (name) told them parts of the truth, leaving out the bits of her only really being with them for the money. All of the boys told her to pack her things and leave. They couldn’t believe that she would hurt them like that. Soon Enhypen found themselves thinking over everything that happened and they began mourning the loss of (Y/n). Their true soulmate.

“We really hurt her, what we did was worse than what (name) did to us,” Jay said as they all sat on the floor with tears running down their cheeks. The more they thought of (Y/n) the more their soulmate marks itched and burned. “We were idiots, it was obvious (name) was only using us. She never struggled being away from us even when we had to go overseas without her. Even if she wasn’t our soulmate she should have hurt a little if she truly loved us,” Jungwon said before he tried wiping away his tears. “Do you think we can get (Y/n) back?” “I don’t know Riki, She left HYBE and we don’t have any way of contacting her,” Sunoo answered. “Not to even mention the low possibility of her forgiving us for everything we said and did,” Heesung added. “Please Fate, give us a second chance, so we can at least apologize to (Y/n),” Jake said, soon after the seven boys got up from the floor and began cleaning their entire apartment. Throwing away anything that reminded them of (name), once they were done they realized that half the things they owned reminded them of her so they disregarded it all. They made a promise to themselves and to fate that if they got the chance to see (Y/n) again, they would apologize and do everything they could to make it up to her, even if that meant spending the rest of their lives saying sorry. 

* Time skip * 

(Y/n)’s POV

It’s been two years since I left South Korea and left my soulmates behind. Every once in a while I stand in front of my mirror searching for the marks, hoping to find a new one, praying that fate had blessed me with a second chance soulmate. When I do this I only ever feel a stabbing pain in my heart, reminding me of everything Enhypen said to me. Their words tainted my world into a darkness I can’t even describe. I began believing that they had done the right thing, that I wasn’t worthy of being loved. Moa however reminded me constantly that I was worthy of love and that it was the boys who weren’t because of what they had done. I often wondered if everything would have been different had I met them first. Was that the only reason they chose her, (name), over me? Would they have loved me if she had never met them? Or were they just incapable of loving me?

“(Y/n)? Hello? Earth to (Y/n)?” “Huh? Oh, sorry, Moa, what’s up?” “You’re thinking of them again, aren’t you?” I let out a sigh before covering my face with one of my hands. “Yeah, I try not to but every once in a while, my mind wanders back to them,” “I get it, or, I don’t, but I know that I think of my soulmate so many times each day it’s normal to do so, even more so for you because of what happened,” “I know, I just keep wondering over what would have happened had I met them before (name),” “Things would probably be very different but we will never know because this is the reality we live in, I know it hurts, but maybe you can find someone who has lost their soulmate and find love with that person,” “Yeah, maybe, I don’t know, let’s talk about something else, I’m already depressed don’t need to make it worse,” “Mm, right, that’s why I originally came in here, we’ve been invited to Jaehyun’s wedding!” “No way, Jaehyun’s getting married?” “Yeah, can you believe that he’s getting married before me? He used to be such a douchebag, and now he’s like everyone’s dream guy,” “I guess he grew up, maybe pouring that smoothie over his head when he insulted you helped him realize that he should change,” “Ooh, I remember when you did that, he was so angry with you first but then he was following you like a lost puppy, being all ‘(Y/n), my sweetie,’ he totally fell in love with you,” “I guess he did. When’s the wedding? And where?” “It’s in six months, and it’s in Seoul. Do you feel okay with going? If not, we’ll just send him a really good gift,” “No, let’s go. I miss Seoul, we have so many friends there and I don’t want to let Enhypen keep me away from them,” “You go girl! YES! I’ll respond right away that we’re coming! Jae’s going to be so happy!” “Are you bringing Kyle too?” “Of course, I’m bringing Kyle, I have to show him off haha,” “Okay, if you respond to the invite I’ll look up a good hotel we can stay in and book two rooms, one for me and one for you and your lovely soulmate,” “Cheer up, (Y/n)! Who knows? Maybe you’ll find someone at the wedding!” “Yeah, maybe,” I gave Moa a small smile, the slight burn in my heart spiking up at the thought of love.

Sometimes living with Moa and her soulmate Kyle was difficult as I knew I could never have what they have. I remember the fight Moa had with Kyle when they first met and he didn’t understand why I had to live with Moa, thus meaning, he now had to live with me. Moa said that either he accepts it or he can walk away because I mean so much more to her than he ever could. I told Moa that she didn’t have to do that and that I would be fine moving to an apartment close by, but Moa didn’t want that, worried I would fall deeper into my depression if she wasn’t by my side. Now months later, Kyle and I are good friends and he understands the situation after hearing what happened to me. Seeing the way they act around each other and hearing them talk of one another, hurts because I wish I could experience that, but I know I never can, not truly, even if I would find someone some time. Of course, I’m so happy Moa found her soulmate and that he treats her well, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit jealous. I took a deep breath and went to my computer to find a good hotel, you can never book those things too early. Especially knowing Jaehyun, the dude knows everyone and their grandma so the hotels are about to be overbooked. I was really looking forward to seeing Jaehyun again, after the smoothie incident we became really good friends (even if he had feelings for me) and we stayed friends through everything. I never told him who my soulmates were, all I said was that it didn’t work out and fate or destiny made a mistake. He was sad to see Moa and I move away but we kept in contact and he was very supportive of our choice. I decided to send him a text even if Moa answered the invites, I wanted to assure him that I would come and it wasn’t Moa giving him false hope. *Hey Jae, it’s been a while. Congratulations on the engagement! Of course, I am coming, how could I not? I just might have to throw another smoothie at you if you don’t behave. Looking forward to seeing you,* In his response he let me know how happy he was that I would come and so was his soulmate. I took another deep breath, let’s go back to Seoul where my whole world collapsed 2 years ago. 

Third Person POV (same time as (Y/n) received the wedding invite)

After coming home from a concert, the Enhypen boys were met with seven cute envelopes in their mailbox. They opened them to find invites to their good friend Jaehyun’s wedding. “Wah! Jaehyun is getting married! That’s crazy!” “We have to go! It’s in six months so if we tell our manager tomorrow we can make sure our schedule stays free for that day,” “It’s going to be so much fun!” The seven boys were ecstatic and couldn’t wait as they hadn’t seen their friend in a while. No one said it, but they all thought the same thing: This could have been us and (Y/n) if only we hadn’t messed up. They still lived with the constant itchiness of their soulmate marks and every once in a while, their marks would burn, a reminder of their actions. Sometimes they wondered if (Y/n) also lived with this discomfort or if it truly was a punishment that only affected them. They hoped (Y/n) didn’t have to go through it as they felt they had hurt her enough as it was. 

* 6 months later, the day before the wedding *

(Y/n)’s POV

Moa, Kyle, and I had been flying for a couple of hours but we finally arrived in South Korea. My back felt quite sore from the flight and I was very tired so I couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and just lay down in bed and sleep. “WAHH! We’re finally back!” Moa was loud and cheery as ever, I swear, the girl can’t be sad. “Come on, let’s get a taxi to the hotel. I’m dying to get some sleep,” Moa just smiled and nodded, Kyle offered to carry my bag for me saying ‘You look like you’re gonna lay down on the floor and sleep here if we don’t get going,’ I mean I definitely look like a zombie, the last few days have been nerve-wrecking as I was a bit anxious of going back here so I haven’t gotten that much sleep. Finally, we arrived at the hotel, not a second too early. We checked in and got our separate rooms, a smaller one for me and a larger one for the couple. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, good night,” “Night night, (Y/n)! Don’t forget, breakfast at 8 tomorrow, we have to leave at 2 pm to get to the ceremony in time,” “I won’t, night night,” I went inside, changed into my pajamas, and then laid down in the bed, I remember setting an alarm on my phone but after that, I was out like a light. 

Third Person POV

The Enhypen members didn’t have to stay at a hotel as the wedding was held close enough for them to just head to their apartment once the wedding and party were over. The morning of the wedding, they all woke up and began preparing everything they needed. They were meeting up with Jaehyun a little earlier than most guests as Jaehyun had asked them to sing a song or two so they were heading over for a soundcheck and to check when they were supposed to sing. “Jaehyun! My man! Congratulations!” “Heesung! Guys! Nice to see you, it’s been too long since last,” The friends caught up a little for a while but at the same time helped Jaehyun around the venue. Jaehyun was a bit nervous but Enhypen assured him that Yujin wouldn’t get cold feet. “Thank you guys for doing this! Yujin is such a fan, she’s going to freak out seeing you here and then you sing a song I wrote for her,” “No worries man, the song you wrote is so good. It’s an honor being allowed to sing it,” And so they continued with the preparations before Enhypen headed into a room where they could change clothes and get ready before the rest of the guests arrived. 

(Y/n)’s POV

I woke up in time, changed into some comfortable clothes, and went outside my room to meet up with Moa and Kyle, once we located one another we went down to eat breakfast. Once we had finished eating we went back to our separate rooms to shower and get ready for the wedding, Kyle called and booked a taxi for us that would arrive at 1.45 pm. The dress I had chosen was a beautiful (insert color of choice) long sleeve, it was the type of dress I had dreamt of wearing to a homecoming or something like this as a child. I almost dared say I felt like a Dinsey princess in it. I fixed my hair and did some makeup. I hadn’t shown Moa my dress because I wanted it to be a surprise, I knew she would be proud of me for slowly going back to the me I was before the rejection. We decided to meet down by the taxi so when the time came I went down to the entrance and saw that Moa and Kyle had made it out before me. When Moa turned to the doors of the hotel and saw me, her jaw dropped before she quite literally shook with how happy she was and how much she was squealing. “(Y/n)! OMG, YOU LOOK SO GOOD I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!” “Thanks, Moa, you look really beautiful, That pink looks so good on you, oh, and on you too Kyle,” “Thank you, you look really good (Y/n), mostly because you’re finally smiling,” I hadn’t realized how much I was genuinely smiling until Kyle pointed it out to me. “Thanks,” And then we got in the taxi, heading over to the wedding venue. 

About an hour later we arrived at the wedding which was beautifully decorated even on the outside. This definitely fits the theme of the invite. Because of the long sleeves on my dress, I didn’t notice my soulmate marks slightly becoming more visible once again, alerting me of my soulmates’ presences. We walked inside and were greeted by flowers and a large room packed with people. I couldn’t even guess how many people were attending but from how packed the room was I guess closer to 300 or perhaps even more. I wasn’t kidding when I said that Jaehyun knows everyone and their grandma. While we had a little look around we ended up running into Jaehyun who enveloped all three of us in a hug expressing his happiness over us attending, The meeting was short-lived though as he had to rush to look at the final details. After a couple of minutes, we found three seats beside each other on the groom’s side of the venue and sat down, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

All too soon the beautiful ceremony itself was over and it was time to begin the festive part of it with dinner and dancing all through the night. As the first dance was to begin, Jaehyun took a microphone and turned toward his bride, explaining that he had prepared a very special surprise just for her. He had written a song for her and some good friends of his would sing it while Jaehyun and Yujin shared their first dance. Everyone cheered as the lights were turned off, some footsteps and some clothes ruffling was all that was heard before the lights turned on. In the spotlight in the middle of the dance floor were Jaehyun and Yujin, they looked so beautiful. A slow but powerful ballad began playing as the couple began dancing, the voices singing were very beautiful, and they seemed almost familiar. The couple dancing was so beautiful together that I couldn’t move my eyes from them, the love between them was overflowing in the venue. The song that Jaehyun had written brought tears to my eyes as it described the fairy tale love he had found with Yujin. The song soon ended and everyone clapped as the couple kissed, shortly after the lights were turned back on and my eyes traveled around the venue searching for the owners of the voices that had just sung the love song. The second my eyes found the seven boys holding a mic each, my heart stopped beating, and my breath seemed to be caught in my throat.

Enhypen. No, this couldn’t be happening. Why were they here? I thought I was hallucinating so I looked down at my hands, pulling up the sleeves of my dress to reveal the initials P.J. and S.J. slowly becoming stronger and also more and more of a vibrant golden glow. Moa who had been standing beside must have seen and heard my reaction as I heard her gasp in surprise before she hugged me. “It’s okay, they probably haven’t seen you. Do you want to leave? We can go right now if you want to,” “I can’t breathe,” I felt like my chest was closing up. My whole body was trembling, my knees were getting weak. I was about to have a panic attack, that would surely just attract attention toward us. “Kyle, help me get her out of here now. Fast but without anyone noticing,” Kyle didn’t question it, instead he put an arm around me and began walking with me toward the doors. A few people asked us if we were okay, I tried to find my voice to say something but I couldn’t, fortunately, Kyle answered that I had eaten a little too much and needed some fresh air. With that, everyone moved out of our way. I was praying, hoping, that Enhypen hadn’t seen me nor felt me being there. If they had, they would probably scream at me again, thinking I was stalking them or something. How could I know that we had common friends? As soon as we got outside I managed to take a deep breath, my body was still trembling badly and my breathing was irregular but at least better than what it was inside the venue. “I’ll call a taxi, don’t worry, everything is okay,” “(Y/n), wait,” 

Third person POV

As Jaeyun took the microphone to tell Yujin about the song he had written, the Enhypen members slowly got up from their table and picked up their mics. As the lights were shut off, they walked over to their position. They gave it their all, singing as if the words of the song would somehow reach (Y/n). They imagined (Y/n) standing in front of them, hearing them singing the heartfelt words as an apology to her. They were all wearing suits so their soulmate marks were all covered, so they, just like (Y/n), hadn’t noticed the glowing initials either. Once the song was over and the lights were turned back on, Sunoo had an inkling feeling to look up and toward the left, as he did, he felt his heartbeat picking up, without even seeing her face he knew it was (Y/n). He noticed that she seemed to feel sick and that an unknown man was wrapping his arm around her, leading her away. “Guys, (Y/n) is here, but she’s leaving,” The others looked up and frantically looked around, searching for the girl. “Come on, we have to go after her, This might be our only chance to apologize,” Sunghoon said and the others agreed, and so they hurried to get out of the venue. A lot of people were hindering them as they wanted to speak to the singers but Enhypen only said that they unfortunately didn’t have the time to speak right now. They rushed out of the doors to find the unknown man embracing (Y/n) in a hug. Their hearts sank. Had she found someone else?

“(Y/n)! Wait!” Niki couldn’t help but shout out, hoping the girl wouldn’t leave without speaking to them. (Y/n) looked toward them after Niki’s exclamation, taking note of them being alone, (name) wasn’t with them. Perhaps, she was still inside. “(Y/n), do you want us to go further away?” Kyle asked, (Y/n) was frozen. She looked at Enhypen, their faces were filled with regret and sadness, they looked very different from how they looked the last time she saw them. They looked softer now, perhaps because now their eyes weren’t filled with disgust as they looked at her. “(Y/n)?” Kyle tried again, but yet again, he was left without a response. “(Y/n), please, can we talk?” Jay tried asking, hoping she would say yes. 

~ To be continued ~

Please reblog!

[mx-piggy]

EDIT: I posted an essay to my website based on this post. I'd really appreciate if you gave it a read!

I finally had an intelligent thought about Heartstopper and I wanted to write it down and share it.

I think Heartstopper season 2 was even better than season 1- for me, at least- because of how it felt like a more expansive look at the queer experience, and how it made me feel a little less like I’m falling behind as an almost-eighteen-year-old who has no romantic experience whatsoever.

With most of the main characters coupling up with one another, Heartstopper could easily be a show that says little more than ‘love is love’, which- while a sentiment i agree with- often fails to include people whose queerness has nothing to do with who they love, or does not involve sexual and/or romantic feelings. So, having Isaac’s storyline involve him coming to terms with being aroace as well as grappling with the isolation he feels in a friend group full of couples offers a different aspect of queerness. I’m someone whose never had my first kiss nor have I ever been in a relationship- and at the moment I have little desire to change that right now beyond the pressure of feeling as though I’m running out of time- so to see a character who feels such a similar sense of alienation feels really cathartic.

I also really appreciated Mr Farouk and Mr Ajayi’s relationship, and I felt especially comforted by Mr Farouk’s character. I’ve been aware of my queerness since I was around the age of 10, but I relate to Mr Farouk’s quiet mourning of the queer teen experiences he never had. I think it’s really important for this show for and about queer teens to say ‘it’s okay if you don’t get what Nick and Charlie or Tara and Darcy or Tao and Elle get at their age. You’ve got time.’ I’m only 17 (18 this month) so I’m not exactly like Mr Farouk, but there’s something a little saddening watching a show about teens younger than you who have something part of you wants.

Perhaps this is very much a ‘me problem’, but Heartstopper is something very bittersweet for me, because it makes me mourn for the teen experiences- queer or otherwise- I’ll never have. I don’t hang out with my friends more than a few times a year, I don’t have a queer friend group who can relate to my struggles and I’ve never had my first kiss or had anyone have feelings for me. At times, its made me feel like I did the whole queer teen thing wrong, because I knew I was queer the whole time. But, having a character whose storyline involves realising that romance isn’t essential, and a character who realises it isn’t too late to live his life as a queer man makes Heartstopper a much easier and much more cathartic watch for me. I can finally watch it and say ‘I’m not doing it all wrong, and I’ve got plenty of time.’

[distortionbobble]

Royal Flowers Chapter 3

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pairing: anakin skywalker x f! reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni! ageless blogs dni! none this chapter (although it gets just a little steamy) but the series will have eventual smut, canon-level violence and just general warnings.

a/n: if anyone’s curious i based the combat style on judo! i’m no expert in judo i’ve just literally been watching “best judo fight” compilation videos so if anyone has any recommendations or corrections let me knoww okay thanks bye! 

You can’t sleep. 

It’s been hours since you came out of the bathroom, the makeup scrubbed off of your face, skin raw from the heat of the shower. Anakin hadn’t even looked at you, and had only offered a grunt of acknowledgement when you had murmured a timid goodnight. 

You think you’re gonna lose your mind. You sit up in frustration with the aim of going down to the kitchens to get a glass of water, rubbing your eyes as you mourn your lack of sleep. Anakin shoots up from his makeshift pile of blankets on the floor, hand already on his lightsaber as he prepares to respond to whatever threat may be there. When he sees none, he relaxes, but his eyes stray to your form and the outline of your body under the silk nightgown. 

“Can’t sleep either?” You ask dryly, making your way off of the bed. You muss up your hair just in case you run into someone on your midnight journey, just so that they’ll think you and Anakin have been up to something other than arguing. 

“No, milady,” Anakin responds quietly. A heartbeat passes before he speaks again, breaking the tranquility of the night. “I apologize for how I spoke to you. I took my frustrations out on you and disrespected you. Your demand is not a foolish one, it’s important and I know that.” 

“I appreciate that,” you respond. “And… about what you said earlier, I do want to learn how to keep myself safe. Of course I do. You won’t always be there, I know that, but how am I supposed to learn? Who would have taught me? My parents died when I was young. I was left in the care of Padme and her family, but that meant that I was part of politics. Running things in the background to support the people I love.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Anakin offers, and you sit with silence for another moment. You take the chance to look at Anakin, the dark circles under his eyes, the shadows on his face, the scar on his eyelid. You have the strangest urge to run your fingers over his cheekbones, over his scars, to know every part of him. You don’t know why, but in the moonlight, everything is so much softer. But you keep it to yourself, sighing and settling on the edge of the bed. You draw your knees to your chest, eyelids fluttering shut to give your eyes some rest. 

“I’ll teach you,” Anakin offers suddenly. 

“What?” You ask. 

“I’ll teach you to protect yourself. You’re right, I won’t always be there, but you should never be defenseless. You’re far too important for that.” Anakin offers a smile to you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile, so subtle that you might have missed it had you not been staring so intently at him. 

“Thank you, General Skywalker.” 

“Anakin.” 

“Anakin.” You smile back at him, a tentative truce drawn between the both of you. You have no doubt that you’ll clash with him soon enough, a matter of personality differences, but for now, it’s nice to have him on your side. “You know, I wouldn’t be offended if you came and slept on the bed with me. I’m sure you’ve slept on the ground plenty of times as a Jedi Knight, but I can’t sleep here three feet away from you knowing my guard is sleeping on the ground.” 

“I suppose there only is one bed, isn’t there?” He grumbles, drawing up the pile of sheets that he’s slept in and tossing it at the foot of the bed. Despite the distance between you, you can feel the warmth radiating from him as he slides into the bed. “We’ll start training tomorrow, milady.”

“Goodnight, Anakin,” you smile, facing the wall. 

“Goodnight, milady.” 

~~~

“Wake up, milady.” It’s still dark when you hear him call your name, jostling your shoulder when you don’t wake up immediately. 

“Anakin?” You ask, rubbing your eyes. It must be right before dawn, for everything is so dark that you can’t make out the details of his face. “Is something the matter?”

“You asked me to train you,” he says. You hold back a groan, wanting nothing more than to bury yourself in your blankets and sleep for much longer. 

“Anakin, that’s sweet, but when you said tomorrow I didn’t think you meant before my brain even turns on,” you whine, but he’s persistent. He slides an arm under your torso, quickly pulling you upright as you protest at the sudden loss of warmth. You shiver from the cold, instinctively huddling in closer to Anakin before you realize and pull yourself away. He looks at you with an odd expression on his face, but doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to slide out of the bed and pull the sheets away with him. He folds his hands behind his back, waiting patiently for you to get out of bed. 

“Milady, I must advise that we train now. We should do it in secret, so that your handmaids won’t notice— after all, they are part of the reason that you wish to learn to protect yourself,” Anakin responds. You groan but get up, throwing your hands in frustration. You’re partly convinced that he’s just doing this to be a little prick— there’s not a chance in hell that this was the only time that you could get alone time with him. You’re newlyweds, it’s almost expected that you’d be sneaking off to spend as much time as possible between meetings. But no, he had to wake you before anyone else would reasonably be awake. But it’s not worth the fight. 

“Alright, then,” you sigh. But instead of moving away from the bed, Anakin moves to stand on top of it, looking at you expectantly. 

“We’re going to start with several throws. Now, I’m not absolutely certain about this, but I think you wouldn’t enjoy being thrown down onto granite,” he says impatiently. You get on the bed, mourning the lack of sleep as Anakin eyes you up and down. “In that?” He asks, referring to your silk nightgown. 

“Oh, good grief,” you complain, throwing your hands up. “At this rate there won’t be a point of waking me up before dawn because everyone else in the palace will be awake already when we do start! Can we just do it?” Anakin shrugs, reaching out to position you the way he wants. Anakin positions you standing shoulder width apart, one hand placed on the back of your neck and the other on your arm. The warmth of his palms on your bare skin sends electricity through your nerves, and you blink at him wide-eyed at the contact. With quick footwork he sweeps you on to your back, knocking the wind out of you with the added weight of his body on yours before he swings himself to your side, effectively pinning you down to the ground. 

“Try to move,” he instructs you, but as you wiggle around on the bed, you realize that he’s able to still pin down your shoulders. “See? Doing this gives you leverage. First thing to know,” he says, getting up and leaving you sprawled on the bed. 

“I see.. Was it necessary to do it without any explanation, or was that for your amusement?” You grunt, hoisting yourself up as Anakin watches you struggle rather unsympathetically. 

“For fun. Now,” He breezes past the admission, grinning when you gape at him, “What you’re gonna do is put your hand on the back of my neck and my arm, like I did.” He nods when you’re in the correct placement, turning his focus to your technique. “Now, turn your body so the hand that’s holding my neck is the closest side. Step sideways once, cross the other foot and step towards me, and then use the first foot to sweep the knee on the side that you’re not touching.” 

You step as per his instructions, sweeping him down but when you land, body pressed firmly against his, the door swings open to reveal Reyna. She sputters when she sees the position you and Anakin are in—  Anakin half naked, his thigh slotted between your legs, his hands gripping your hips,  your tits hanging above his face with only the thin silk material to cover you. The immodesty of it all makes you blush, too. Anakin, however, used his quick thinking and craned his neck up to kiss the exposed skin right above your breasts. You know it’s only so that she doesn’t get suspicious but it feels good, dammit, and you can’t hold back the whimper that threatens to escape you when his teeth nip softly at your skin. 

“I’ll come back later,” Reyna squeaks, clearly mortified. 

“That would be best,” Anakin responds, looking at her with half-lidded eyes and a smirk that makes heat run up your spine. 

When the door shuts, he throws you rather unceremoniously off of him, blushing a bright pink. 

“Sorry,” Anakin apologizes. The both of you lay on your backs, furiously avoiding eye contact as the situation’s awkwardness makes you wince. 

“It’s alright,” you say, pushing yourself off of the bed. “So, I’ll, um, see you later today?” 

“Yes, milady,” he answers, sounding distant. “Later today.”

[ihopesocomic]

Hi! New reader here! I just got to the part where Hope tries to open her injured eye. It was portrayed as rly cloudy, but I’m not sure how it got that cloudy so fast? It had happened Very recently, and while Vicious’s claws definitely damaged the cornea, idk if that was enough time for scar tissue to have accumulated so thick. It was more likely that it would have been swollen or misshapen, but not opaque/milky yet. As well, though the scar/injury definitely would make her ‘legally blind’ in that eye, it’s highly unlikely even w that damage that she would lose 100% of her vision. Corneal Opacity obstructs light/vision, but it’s quite likely that she would still be able to see brash lights and shadows, maybe some shapes (likely clearer toward the edges of vision, but perpetually out of focus there)

I point this out as someone who is blind in one eye myself from an injury as a child, and that generally we don’t really like the portrayal of “cloudy eyes=blind” in media. It’s usually used as visual shorthand, but bc ppl see it used that way, they think that’s what all blind ppl look like. I’ve gotten ppl who’ve tried and ‘caught’ some of my friends as ‘not blind’ bc their eyes weren’t white/cloudy, which is generally, not the case unless there is serious injury or disease in the eye. As for the 100% vision, we also get ppl who will wave or clap in our faces to try and ‘catch’ us (bc for some reason ppl just think ppl fake being blind for ‘benefits’—what benefits??) and we will always flinch bc 1) that’s the normal reaction, it’s sound and air close to your face, your body will instinctively flinch away from it. And 2) bc many of us still have some amount of useable vision, and getting that close is something even someone w very low percentage of useable vision could detect.

Not gonna ask you to redraw it of course, that’s entirely up to you, and it’s an ongoing, high-intensive webcomic and the page in question is quite a bit back there, but if we see it again plus the POV of Hope’s vision, if you drew a rough lining of that half of the picture, then filled it in with intense white/gray grittiness, more concentrated in the middle and a bit less on the extreme sliver of the outer eye (in Hope’s case, I doubt there would be too much of the eye that wasn’t covered by the scar tissue, Lion claws are huge and thick and at this point she’s had plenty of time to form a significant scar) and the vague impression of light/shadow, that’s a more accurate portrayal of blindness. The eye itself is almost guaranteed to be misshapen, that is, the iris and pupil, not the orb itself (it would have had to puncture through the cornea, and if that was the case she’d not really have an eye) something like a droopy part near the direction of the scar, and a bit more of an oval-ish shape (pics for reference can help if you can do that, otherwise not making it too extreme but enough that it’s visibly a scar and injury in the eye. These are all just suggestions! If you decide you’d like to do a more stylized version of this, just making the iris a bit raised and a little wider at the ends of the scar, and for POV just airbrush w a gritty texture and put some vague shading.

I really love this comic, and it’s portrayal of disability (Hope is just. I’ll cry) but that was just something that nicked me a bit. It’s hard to do everything right, and really hard for a personal project! You’ve done amazing, and honestly this is nitpicky of me I think, I just thought with the positive rep of limb loss I thought I’d give a little advice ig on blind rep, from a partially blind person myself. (thank you SO. MUCH. For not making her ‘mourn’ the limb she doesn’t have. She just doesn’t have it, it’s who she is. She’s not lesser or in parts bc of it, she deals w it, and though it’s still a disability and affects her as such, it’s not something she needs to cry over. She’s always been this way, and she’ll make it through.)

So, first of all: thank you so much for giving an informative and detailed input on this aspect of Hope's character. We truly appreciate it.

We've always intended to show Hope's eye injury gradually changing condition from her POV and her being able to open the eye slightly eventually, so we're not through with representing blindness or partial blindness through her.

As for your comments regarding what we've already shown, Cat did refer to references on that particular front as she did endeavour to get things accurate. While she is willing to admit that she may have got things wrong, the issue of people stereotyping blind individuals based on one form of how the condition presents itself doesn't mean that one form is not accurate or valid, if you feel me? The true issue here is people's ableism towards blind or partially blind individuals and assuming that a disability must present itself in a certain way to "count" (i.e. in a way they're familiar/comfortable with when stfu it's not about you?) when disabilities in general do not work like that.

But I also completely get that there is a need to break down the assumption that all eye conditions work like this. I know what it feels like to be held to a certain standard by my disabilities and it sucks. If there's one thing worse than just flat-out intolerant ableism towards disabled individuals, it's ableism under the guise of 'i understand your condition better than you do bc i saw it on TV once' ugh But yeah, we've put a pin in the helpful description you've provided and will take this on board moving forward because - like you've pointed out - this is how eye injuries actually work. We especially needed this input since we planned on having Hope being able to have the eye open eventually too. Cat certainly wants to go in and fix that panel with her eye opening in the relevant panel and make it not-cloudy, and what you said about the greyscale and filter idea for the panel afterwards where it's her POV will also be implemented. Thank you again for this advice and for explaining it so well, we always appreciate input like this. <33 And thank you again (again) for the kind comments on Hope's character. It's exactly why we opted to not have her injure the limb like Nothing did and have her be born with the condition instead. Not that we're opposed to that kind of representation, as we intend to cover it somewhat with Bronze and the loss of his limb and how he and the other lions of the Thundering Mountains adapted to it. But yeah, we felt like doing things differently a tad with our main protagonist. c: - RJ

[tabithatwo]

I love Yellowjackets okay it’s CLEAR if you observe my insane habits around this show but listen to me stay with me they so clearly did NOT have the 96 timeline planned out enough when writing the adults in season one. Or it got changed or added to or whatever to a Strong Degree. Maybe this is execs trying to make the show and it’s characters more palatable for mainstream success?? idk it feels possible to me.

But SHAUNA? Present Shauna was haunted by Jackie almost every scene of s1. It was so painfully clear how much Jackie’s presence was felt by her entire family CONSTANTLY. The bunnies, the conversations they had, the hallucinations all of it!! Jackie Jackie Jackie dead girl alive haunting the narrative. This season? Radio silence. And like pls don’t tell me shauna just has too much going on this season to feature any Jackie haunting like rewatch s1 she was PLENTY FUCKING BUSY having affairs and being blackmailed by her husband and doing murder!!! Jackie was so woven in to her character that NOTHING was untouched by her. So what, now we’ve seen Jackie’s death in 96 so she doesn’t haunt her anymore in present?? Now the baby is the strongest presence looming over her family? (This is said in an interview with the show runners and I’ve talked about it in another post!) When it wasn’t felt at all s1? No, you don’t want to spoil things in 96 so it is tricky, but there could’ve been hints. We always knew the baby would go poorly at the very fucking least. And the lack of Jackie haunting is a HUGE change. If you don’t think so, go back and watch s1 like I promise you it was POTENT. So does shifting the cause for her violence to being heavily based on losing the baby make a general audience more sympathetic to her? I think it might.

Misty?? Crystal???? If you watch s1 present Misty, there is no presence of crystals loss impacting her. They didn’t even have Crystal as a character. Misty was shown with a very unwavering proclivity to feel EXCITEMENT during horrible things. That continued into adulthood. Yeah, as we see characters more, we get more details. Sure. But the issue is the present timeline characters are only shifting based on the unfolding events of 96, you know what I mean? Like I’m sorry but the impact of Crystal and Misty’s panic around her and this new crushing GUILT for what she’s done was not a presence in s1 adult Misty. To make way for this crystal arc, teen Misty just doesn’t give a single FUCK about Ben anymore? Not obsessing with him or controlling him? And you might say she transferred her obsession. She got bored of her toy. Okay MAYBE yes, but in present day she doesn’t transfer. Walter would be a new option and she’s locked on natalie. Adult Misty has kept tabs on every single Yellowjacket, she has room for multiple lines of obsession. Her just dropping anything with Ben is odd and what makes her more sympathetic? Being a fucking monster to Ben? Or accidentally causing crystals death and mourning her and feeling an influx of guilt for her shitty actions?

I WORRY that we’re seeing a series of unplanned (therefore unshown in the adult versions of them that we ALREADY HAD in s1) events to increase sympathy and likability. I could probably think about this for more of them but shauna and Misty really stand out. YES you can and should develop characters as a series evolves, but the issue is if you show them in the PRESENT you can’t make them EVOLVE based on what you’re revealing in the PAST, does that make sense? It can inform their present actions, you can highlight different facets of them, all sorts of stuff. But this feels like something wayyy beyond that.

I hope I’m wrong and I hope they bring it back around <3 like so sincerely <3 and if you disagree and this makes perfect sense to you I’m happy for you <3 I wish that I did not feel this way <3 I’ve been trying to live in denial land about this all season <3 but it’s hitting hard right now <3

[three--rings]

okay so i’m gonna talk about the build thing. 

I’m not going to get into the whole thing and what I think tho.  Like, I have a lot of thoughts.  But the thing is that I don’t KNOW anything.  I don’t know these people.  I can’t speak to them in any way. 

We have literally ZERO facts.  There is not a single fact that we, the public, have received that has any evidence behind it.  We have a bunch of one-sided claims and... some messages?  And some faked photo “evidence” from pinterest.

We don’t have any basis for making a judgement on anything solid whatsoever.  The only people who can do that are first of all police and legal proceedings, which I very much doubt are going to actually come to pass, and if they did would take absolutely forever to shuffle out.

And secondly BOC as an employer.  Which is where we can expect some kind of eventual decision, whatever it may be.

But what has truly upset me since this broke, besides just the natural grief of the situation, is the fandom response.  It’s been truly horrendous. 

The reaction which I expect from a fandom to this kind of news is shock, upset, grief, confusion, bargaining, etc.  And support of each other as we wait for the full fallout.

Instead I’ve seen celebration, I-told-you-so’s, endless attacks on people who refuse to immediately renounce their support of build, or who are at all measured or hesitant in their response.  Calls to reject not only the actor but the ship, the fandom, the production company.  Comparisons to other actors to highlight how their fave could never.  Finger pointing in every possible direction.

In other words, the fandom eating itself alive.  And is it maybe a small minority of people being toxic and most people being silent?  Yeah, it always is.  But it’s so fucking painful to me and to the fandom as a whole. 

Callout culture has reached a point where when anything happens the only performatively pure action to take is to immediately and loudly cut yourself off publicly from anyone at all likely to be tainted in accusation.  Which is exactly why people with bad motives can use accusations to inflict harm on people they want to hurt. 

I’ve seen over and over people being angry and upset that things aren’t moving faster with this situation, that there hasn’t been more statements and official shit done and like, it’s been less than two days?  On a weekend?  Do you really want the official procedures of ANY employer to work so fast that someone is fired within hours of anyone saying something bad about them, because that’s what people are literally calling for. 

I know it sounds like I’m taking one side here, but honestly I’m not.  No I don’t want the accusations to be true, because NO ONE should want them to be true.  But I can’t speak to their truth at all, because I have no basis to do so.  Except that what has been produced so far has been show NOT to be true (the photographs).  But there’s plenty of toxicity to go around in this situation.

What I want is for the actual truth to be known and acted on appropriately.  That doesn’t need to involve dragging facts out onto twitter or into the public eye, either.  The fandom isn’t judge and jury.  Victims shouldn’t be paraded through the virtual town square to be ripped apart. 

People are mourning right now.  What I’m mourning is the loss of a fandom that wasn’t as divisive and at each other’s throats as my last two.  Where I could just go to enjoy stuff without constant infighting.  Well, guess that’s fucking over. 

People are reliving their own abuse.  I know I am. 

STOP ATTACKING FELLOW FANS.  STOP ATTACKING PEOPLE MOURNING.

How individual fans respond to this isn’t any of your fucking business.  People are allowed to wait to see what happens before making judgments.  People are allowed time and space to process.  Shut the fuck up already.

[slavonicrhapsody]

Hello ! I’ve seen a post mentioning the demigods of the Mausoleum as well as the ones killed by Vyke, and while as the person say that this does have potential for oc writers, I can’t help but wonder who they might be related to. (Like seriously I can’t stop wondering the relation between 9 dead demigods and the demigods we know about as well as the Elden Lords and Marika). So I became so desperate that I finally dare to ask other people their thoughts about it (my family doesn’t even know a little bit of Elden Ring Lore or just forget about it).

Hello! OK this topic has actually stumped me for so long, so I finally got around to looking into the wandering mausoleums and wow is it weird and complicated. 

Lets get the basic facts out of the way… Basically, the wandering mausoleums house the bodies of “the soulless demigods:” 

“The mausoleum prowls. Cradling the soulless demigod. O Marika, Queen Eternal. He is your unwanted child.” (Spirit NPC)

“The sun in eclipse is said to be the symbol of the Wandering Mausoleum where the soulless demigods slumber.” (Eclipse Crest Heater Shield)

The mausoleums’ bells are said to ring "in constant mourning for the soulless demigods.” (Mausoleum Surcoat)

The mausoleums (well, most of them... stay tuned) are defended by Mausoleum Knights, undead warriors who “willingly beheaded themselves so that they may serve their masters in death.” (Mausoleum Knight enemy description) The mausoleum knight Lhutel the Headless earned herself the honor of Erdtree burial for this sacrifice. These knights carry shields bearing the symbol of the Eclipse:

“The eclipsed sun, drained of color, is the protective star of soulless demigods. It aids the mausoleum knights by keeping Destined Death at bay.” (Eclipse Crest Greatshield)

We also know that Castle Sol and Miquella are connected to all of this, because the inhabitants of Castle Sol seem to worship the eclipse… there are two spirit NPCs in the area who say these things:

“Ohh, great sun! Frigid sun of Sol! Surrender yourself to the eclipse! Grant life to the soulless bones!”

“Lord Miquella, forgive me. The sun has not been swallowed. Our prayers were lacking. Your comrade remains soulless... I will never set my eyes upon it now... Your divine Haligtree…”

There is some kind of operation to “give life” back to the soulless demigods of the walking mausoleums centered at Castle Sol. 

So who are these dead guys??? It does seem that they were killed on the Night of the Black Knives… Godwyn the Golden’s murder was said to be “the first recorded Death of a demigod in all history” (via Rogier), so we can assume that these guys were also killed by Destined Death, wielded by the Black Knife assassins. I think they are considered “soulless” because, since they were killed by Destined Death, they died in both body and soul… Ranni set up her ritual splitting the cursemark of death so that she would die only in body and keep her soul, and Godwyn would die only in soul and his body stayed alive, to everyone’s horror… so a killing with no special ritual would just kill both aspects of a person, and prevent them from experiencing the “proper” death of returning to the Erdtree: 

“A proper death means returning to the Erdtree. Have patience. Until the time comes...and the roots call to you.” (Spirit NPC)

So I guess the goal of the eclipse ritual is to retrieve these demigods’ lost souls, including Godwyn’s. 

As for the soulless demigods’ identities, a spirit NPC does explicitly state that a demigod within a mausoleum is Marika’s child. There is indeed plenty of room within the Golden Lineage family tree for there to be a bunch of currently unknown family members, because Godrick is said to be the last of the Golden Lineage and a distant relation of Queen Marika… so that’s potentially a ton of previous generations of demigods that are just not named! These demigods could easily have been killed in order to hurt Marika and the Golden Order in Ranni’s dire plot, with Godwyn being the most devastating loss and the target of her specific ritual. 

I should also mention that there are two unique wandering mausoleums in Liurnia, around the Uhl Palace Ruins, that do not have a bell, are not protected by mausoleum knights, and can only duplicate remembrances of NON-shardbearing bosses. @katyahina pointed this out in this fantastic post, and I wouldn’t have even thought about these mausoleums if I hadn’t read it!! I’m currently unsure if these two soulless demigods had unique identities; however, really interestingly, unlike every other demigod corpse, the corpses in these two bell-less mausoleums are charred black:

(Normal mausoleum)

(Bell-less mausoleum)

So I’m inclined to think that something weird happened TO these two demigods that didn’t happen to anyone else that caused them to behave as less powerful versions, rather than them having unique identities from the other demigods to begin with… but that's just my take. What could have happened to them??? And why are they confined to this one “Mausoleum Compound” area, that’s among the Uhl Palace Ruins, where there are also Ancestor followers??? Literally I thought about this so hard I gave myself a headache. Anyway give katyahina's post a read for some fun ideas about their identities. Whoever they are, I think whatever happened to them means that they’re beyond saving; even the eclipse ritual can’t help them.

Also I could not ever begin to guess what’s going on with the demigods supposedly killed by Vyke in order for him to have gotten great runes and it honestly makes absolutely no sense to me. sorry but if I try to think about this anymore I fear my head will explode

[old-world-bird]

The ✨✨BIG✨✨ post

About all the flowers and stuff, starring this piece of mine. I’ve also included some wips ✨

As was mentioned previously, I became obsessed with flower language, and the person, who commissioned this piece, is a fan of it as well, so we happen to have a lovely collaboration with an unholy (for me personally) amount of tiny details and (not so) hidden messages.

Thanks again @thecheshiredragon​ for fleshing out this piece with me!

Source used: Language of flowers by Greenaway, Kate Additionaly I’ve purchased Floriography by Jessica Roux, which is smaller but has an index by meanings and also some bouquets and flower pairing suggestions I’ll leave links in the replies

So, not to waste any more time-

First of all,✨THEM ✨

You can notice that Sergei and Strahd have different lines, especially on their hair - Sergei has more rounded lines, while Strahd is all sharp’n’edgy.

A quick demonstration of the lineart reworking process. That “different line type” idea wasn’t there from the begginig! I guess that’s my favourite thing about working on a big commissions - I have plenty of time to come up with new ideas and implement them.

White lilac on the Sergei - youthful innocence Meadow saffron - my best days are past

Yep, the white lilac is blue, because I really wanted to draw Sergei in white shirt, because, you know, the INNOCENCE.

He, who’ll follow you into the darkness

Several things I love about this half: while Sergei walks in the light, Strahd has already stepped into the shadow, and Bucefalus is awaiting him there.

Globe amaranth in the tapestry - immortality and unfading love.

Yep, shadows on the right weren’t the only foreshadowing here.

He, who’ll die tomorrow

One of my favorite detail: the knight on the tapestry stabs the monster because good always defeats evil, but the shadows tell us it will be otherwise this time.

Mourning bride on the left - I have lost all Gum Cistus on the right - I shall die tomorrow

It’s more of a happy coincedence, but I love that the color of flowers matches the colour of the brothers’ clothes.

All this toxicity~

Book said that vines stand for intoxication, but I never found out, if it means any particular vines, or anything creeping in general, so I went with some undefining vines, and also made them dead for the sake of even MORE drama. The pattern on the carpet is also a vine.

When we decided upon the color palette, I also suggested a green carpet as an option. Some sources interpret green as a color of jealousy, hopelessness, and/or a silent acceptance of what is happening. But we agreed that red one is more of a “Zarovich thing”.

And then there are these thing

Honestly, I started this piece without any particular idea, so I randomly threw some roses and kinda-oak leaves, and this is also a Strahd’s throne reference.

But after finishing the whole picture, I looked up the book, and it told me that oak stands for bravery, and roses, of course, have a ton of meanings depending on their color and species, but the common meaning is love, and I think that “Love and Bravery” do sound like something Zarovich family would use in their heraldic.

And the column piece was inspired by the decotive stone slabs exposition from our local museum, but I don’t have any proper photos from there. I kinda was wandering there, saw one of the stones and was like “damn, I want smth similar for the columns in my current commission”

✨ ✨ ✨

That’s all for today, hope you liked this post. Let me know if you’d like to see more of me explaining my own artwork and low-key fangirling it ✨

[iboatedhere]

(more thanks to @pragmatic-optimist @welcometololaland & @rmd-writes)

---

Henry fiddles with the tap, turning the water temperature down from scalding hot to just piping hot while the biodegradable sponge Alex insists they buy crumbles into nothing in his hand. 

He sighs and rinses the mug before setting it on the rack to dry, turning off the water, and leaning against the sink, looking out into the expanse of their backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?” Alex asks from the table and Henry turns. 

“Do you think we should be growing our own food?” 

Wide eyed, Alex looks from the strip of bacon in hand to Henry and back again.

“I was talking about vegetables, darling.”

“Oh! Ha! Thank fuck,” he says as he shoves the last bite into his mouth. “Because you know I would get attached to that thing as soon as its little swine-eyes found mine and I could never…” He trails off and drags his finger across his throat. “You know.”

“I do,” Henry tells him. “Would it be enough to turn you into a vegetarian?”

“Hell no, but I would probably switch to turkey bacon. I’ve had enough of those feathery fucks to last the rest of my life.” He stands with his plate and coffee mug then nudges Henry out of the way so he can clean up after himself. “You want to start a garden?”

“We have all this land we're not using and who knows how long it’ll take the renovation permits on the shelter to come through. I have a bit of spare time.”

Alex eyes him warily and Henry pretends he doesn’t notice. 

“I was thinking I’d start with the basics…tomatoes, cucumber, courgettes…”

“That’s zucchini, right?”

Henry rolls his eyes fondly. “If you want to be American about it.”

“Well, since we’re in America. I think a garden would be nice. You gotta be careful though, my abuela had one and she was overrun with vegetables. She canned and pickled everything and still couldn’t keep up. She’d pay me and June ten dollars to go around to her neighbors trying to offload peppers because it was impossible to say no to two cute kids.”

“I’m sure I could find a food bank that would take them.”

“I’m sure you could,” Alex agrees before swaying into him. “Are you okay?”

Henry gives him a smile that must look as weak as it feels and Alex presses his lips together and tips his head to the side, giving Henry his best puppy-dog eyes.

“It’s just…you know,” Henry says because Alex does know and Henry doesn’t want to be the one to say it. 

The anniversary of his father’s death looms, the same way it does every year, but every year there seems to be more for Henry to mourn. 

His father never got to meet Alex. He never got to see how full of love Henry’s life is now. How happy he is. He’ll never set foot in this home or see the garden Henry wants to plant or hold the future children they might have.

Henry’s love for Alex grows with every passing day but there’s still a corner of his heart that is gray with grief that no amount of early morning kisses or late night conversations out on the porch will color.

“Baby,” Alex says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Henry’s shoulder. He can’t mourn the way Henry does, but Henry knows he tries to shoulder the weight of it even if he can’t quite fit his arms around it. “You know it’s okay to slow down and relax.”

“Plenty of people find gardening relaxing.”

Alex sighs, the same way he always does when he knows he’s been beaten at his own game and pulls back. 

“Okay,” he says, “I can duck out of work early and we can hit up the nursery–.”

“Oh no,” Henry interrupts. “I’m not letting you anywhere near my garden.”

Alex blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

“You, my love, have what I believe they call a black thumb.”

“That’s a fucking lie, I do not.”

“You somehow managed to kill a cactus.”

“That thorny piece of shit had it out for me.”

“Of course, love,” Henry says, gathering Alex’s face between his hands, “whatever you say.”

[bearhugsandshrugs]

The Gorsimp Chronicles - Chapter 1

Gortash x Tav | Explicit Read on AO3 | Next Chapter

A slightly (and with slightly we mean: completely) alternate AU in which Gortash had a twin brother Horatio: A true gentleman, a kind and vulnerable version, alike in looks but oh so different in personality. Horatio accidentally died facing the Netherbrain, allowing Enver to live his life out as Horatio Gortash. But there's one person who he couldn't fool. The only person who matters.

If you want to read plenty of hot smut and mindblowing sex and two people being madly in love, you've come to the right fic. If you want to read a lot of drama and angst, you're also at the right place. You're only wrong here if you're expecting canon-Gorty.

This fic is written by @bloodlessbhaalbabe (writing Enver's POV mostly) and @bearhugsandshrugs (writing Tav's POV mostly). Sections separated by dividers signify a POV change.

Enver couldn’t believe his luck when he ran into Tav in one of the raunchiest sex parties in all of Baldur’s Gate.

He hadn’t been able to help himself. While he’d been posing as his dead twin brother Horatio for several months now, something had lured him back here, into his own old ways, seeking an adventure with a stranger. Instead, he’d found Tav. They had been flirtatious for months back when they were preparing to fight the Netherbrain. Back when Enver still had been the Archduke. But then Horatio (and with him the gentler, kinder of the two) had died on the day of the Netherbrain fight – taking Enver's place as Horatio had done so many times before, not thinking anything of it. Neither of the twins had expected what would happen that day: Horatio, posing as Enver, dead. Tav, not knowing they had exchanged places, mourning his loss.

Enver and her had been friendly, even flirty, the months leading up to that fateful day – and Tav had been a constant fixture, someone he’d gotten along with, that he’d liked, more than he had probably ever admitted to himself. Neither of them had ever acted on it. 

Now that she’d bumped into him, eyes wide as she took him – or better: "Horatio" – in, he breathed in deeply and squeezed the hand that was offered to him in a type of overly formal greeting.  The words that stumbled out of his mouth didn't make sense, but they were true. “I’ve missed you terribly.” 

“Missed me? I don’t think we’ve been that acquainted”, Tav replied, confused. “Unless you want to count exchanging a nod across a funeral and reoccuring run-ins with Enver accompanying you as that.” 

There was a brief moment in which she wondered if this was actually Horatio, the particular spark in his eyes seeming overly familiar, but she pushed the thought away. 

Enver blinked a moment realizing his mistake. He opened and closed his mouth trying to come up with a way to save this. “I– um… I mean… I have seen you around when you were with… Enver. You have a profound presence about you that's not easy to miss.” 

He cleared his throat and let go of Tav’s hand. 

“My apologies for the confusion, but it is good to see you again and even better to meet you… At least officially and not due to unfortunate circumstances.” 

Enver played with his ring, his old ring, spinning it around his finger. He was never nervous, never vulnerable, but posing as Horatio allowed himself to feel those unpleasant feelings without the fear of being seen as weak, and he was grateful to be able to fall back on his brother’s tender heart especially now. 

His Tav stood before him and he couldn’t afford to be swept away; at least not yet. 

Raising an eyebrow, Tav couldn’t help but chuckle. “Meet… ‘officially’?” She looked around, watching people fawn over each other, grope, touch, press, suck at each other; all while the low hum of the music set the tone for the raunchy party they were at. 

“I’m curious to know what ‘unofficially’ looks like for you, then.” 

She hadn’t taken Horatio for someone to attend these types of gatherings. At least not alone. Not without an agenda. Not without Enver there–

She stopped herself, unwilling to continue that thought. They were here now. That, in no small part, had been Enver’s doing, no matter how horrific the rest of his persona had been. Horrific. And intriguing. She’d grieved him terribly after he had died, unwilling to believe the universe would play such cruel jokes on her. For months she had had a crush on Enver, and just when the Netherbrain was to be defeated, he died. With too many things having remained unsaid, unacted on. 

Meanwhile, in the present, Enver smirked and leaned back against the wall. He cocked his head to the side as his eyes slid down Tav’s body taking in every curve accentuated by her tight leather clothing. 

“Unofficial would be more along the lines of going into one of those rooms with the glory hole,” Enver nodded toward the back rooms before dropping his voice to a low, rumble, “or allowing someone to come up and take you from behind without introducing themselves first.”

Enver licked his lips and remembered his character. He smiled, his eyes squinting much like his brother’s would have. “However, I am a gentleman and prefer to make it known to the person I may be pursuing.” 

Enver grappled with his personal desire of wanting to immediately make it known to Tav about who he was and who was actually gone. If anyone found out that the real Enver was alive and it had been Horatio who had perished, he would be hunted for his crimes against the city. Even if he knew he could trust Tav, he couldn’t bear to put her in that position. She already had seen the loss of Enver once and he couldn’t make her go through that again. 

“If you’re a gentleman, then what are you doing here?”, Tav smirked. 

Enver shrugged and looked around the room. Truthfully, it was a glimpse at his past and he'd been hoping to indulge himself a little bit. It had been a few months since he was pronounced dead and buried. Soon his name and everything he had hoped to become would fade. He knew that there was a possibility of anonymity at these parties where no one cared what your face looked like or who you resembled. 

“In truth, I knew Enver frequented these places and, as messed up as it sounds, I was hoping to come here and experience his old life. To try and connect myself to him,” Enver replied with an exhale. “It wasn’t what I was expecting, but I did run into you, so perhaps things are looking up?” 

Enver did not mean to sound so needy for Tav, but everytime he opened his mouth it seemed as though his mind couldn’t help but flirt with her. 

A blush spread on Tav’s face as she listened to Horatio’s murmurs. She’d never taken him to be so smooth and.. Interesting? But here she was, staring at him even though the place was full of men – and women – with less baggage than the brother of the dead tyrant. 

Enver and her had never acted on the tension that had formed between them, but she’d found him attractive, and seeing his twin brother now just reminded her of how much she still craved his body. 

Catching herself, she rolled her eyes and chuckled. “You almost sound as if you’re coming onto me, Horatio.” Then, after a short pause, and another sip from her drink to gather some more courage, she added: “Are you? Coming onto me?”

Enver raised his eyebrows. It couldn’t be this easy. Could it have been so easy when he was alive? Enver bit his lip and smirked. “Not yet, but I could be persuaded.” 

Downing the rest of her drink in one go, Tav briefly considered her options. Hooking up with her late crush’s twin was exactly the bad idea that a night like this demanded. So… 

She stepped up a little closer to Horatio, leaning in so close that her warm breath reflected back on his skin. “Hmm”, she sighed into his ear, “in that case, tell me what works better: the carrot or the stick?”

Accentuating her question, she dragged her index finger down his chest, hooking it into the messy laces of his shirt, vaguely reminding her of someone… 

Enver’s hands automatically rested on either side of Tav’s hips. His fingers gripped firmly against her leather trousers. He stared down at her as she leaned closer to him; grateful she couldn’t hear how loud his heart pounded in his ears. He pushed down a shiver that ran up his body as her fingers playfully pulled at his messy shirt laces. 

A loud cackle pulled him from his thoughts and he looked around the room. Not here, he thought. Tav deserved something more, something better than to be fucked publicly in front of everyone despite the idea compelling him to do so. No. Tav would be his and his alone. At least for tonight. 

“For you? As you’re dangling the carrot right in front of my face?” Enver smirked and leaned down until their noses brushed against each other. “You’re holding the stick, my dear. I’d follow you anywhere.” 

Enver pulled away and wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Come with me?” 

She made the decision in a split second, then whirled around and hurried out the room, down the stairs, and out of the building; Horatio holding onto her wrist tightly. This was a really bad idea but Tav didn’t care – it felt as if somehow fate had presented her with another chance of getting what she wanted, who she wanted. 

Once they reached the dim lit street, his hold on her loosened and they stood outside, staring at each other in silence for a brief moment. 

Where should they go? Her place was on the other side of the city. But maybe they didn’t need a room. Maybe they didn’t even need a bed. Glancing sideways she took in the empty back alley, sufficiently secluded and, most importantly, close enough so that she was moderately certain she wouldn’t lose her courage halfway through. 

“If you want me to come with you, you better start with the foreplay now”, she nodded towards the side, grinning. “You don’t seem like the patient type.”

Enver pulled her down the alleyway by her wrist and pressed her up against the wall. He grabbed her other wrist and held them over her head. Again he leaned in close to her, almost as though he was teasing himself before allowing himself to taste her. 

“You’ve talked to me for all of five minutes and you think you can read me?” Enver whispered in a low rumble. His hands slid down her arms until they were cupping her face. “You’re right, though. I’ve never been a patient man. But I do like to take my time.” 

Enver pressed a thigh in between Tav’s legs and pulled her against his lips, soft at first, but quickly deepened as his need to touch her, to taste her grew within him. His tongue brushed against her bottom lip begging for more. 

Tav sighed against Horatio’s mouth, fighting with herself to keep her eyes open and not just surrender into his touch. When he pulled back his head just ever so slightly, she chased his mouth with her lips, catching his bottom lip between her teeth, playfully pulling it towards her. 

She could feel his body crush against her in turn, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants and her hips. He smelled good, and oh so familiar, and she wondered briefly if that very specific scent ran in his family. 

“You talk a lot”, Tav sighed when he still wouldn’t kiss her back, leaving her hanging between teases and nibbles, “is there actually anything to back that up?”

Enver let out a small gasp as his lip was bitten. He grabbed her by the throat and turned her head to the side, then mouthed his way down her jaw to her neck. His teeth grazed against her sensitive skin, pulling slightly, and sucking until he left a mark. His thoughts were hazy as she teased him. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Same old Tav, he thought. 

In one quick motion, he dropped down to his knees. His hands pushed up her shirt exposing her stomach. His mouth latched onto her as he kissed down her torso. He looked up at Tav as his fingers dug into the waistband of her pants, pulling slightly. 

“I’m thinking of one way you could shut me up and make use of my mouth,” Enver replied, his hot breath cascading over her lower belly with each heavy pant. His cock pressed up against his own trousers as he nuzzled his face against Tav. Waiting for her to tell him he could take what he wanted. 

“Fuck”, Tav breathed out, scanning the still empty alley one last time. She’d never expected Enver’s twin to be so similar to him, and the way he looked up at her sent her heart into a frantic rhythm. Undoing the buckle of her belt with shaky fingers she worked on freeing herself from her suddenly too tight leather pants, pushing them down together with her panties, exposing herself to him. 

The air was cool against her skin, and his hands on her made her shudder, her body reacting involuntarily, instinctively, to the man before her. 

“Get to work then”, she said hoarsely, “if you’re any good… maybe I’ll let you fuck me after all.”

He didn’t care if anyone saw them at this point. He chuckled softly at her last remark and pushed her legs apart as much as he could with them being constrained by her leather trousers. 

“Anything for you, Tav,” Enver mumbled as he nuzzled against her folds. His tongue spread them apart as his fingertips dug into the flesh of her thighs, pulling her closer to him. He moaned as he flicked his tongue against her clit, holding her up as he felt a shudder from his ministrations. How he craved to feel her entire weight surrounding his face as she ground her hips against him for her pleasure, but this would have to do. He swirled his tongue around her sensitive nerves in an unknown alphabet spelling out poetry against her skin. 

Each caress of his tongue encouraged the beautiful whimpers and moans to escape Tav’s lips. He'd missed her. He wanted her. He craved her. 

Tav’s hands found his head, moving them in sync to her core grinding against his face. He felt good on her, greedy and maddeningly patient, and she felt like she was on fire, burning up from the inside. 

She closed her eyes, giving herself into the sensations, and she couldn’t help but think of the man whose smug looks and mocking words kept echoing through her mind, pulling her attention towards what was, what could have been. 

This didn’t feel like a different man, this felt like it was meant to be, and she stifled a moan as she remembered a moment between Enver and her, too intimate to be simply an innocent association. Enver, no, Horatio was using his tongue so cleverly she felt her breathing pick up speed, and it was not long until all she could do was pant helplessly against the concrete wall he’d backed her up against.

“I…”, she wanted to let him know she was close, wanted him, needed him to stand up and fuck her, but he wasn’t letting up, wasn’t slowing down–

“Enver, stop”, she moaned, pulling at his head, trying to lift him up. 

Enver paused for half a second before doubling down. To hear Tav say his name after all this time? Tav knew better – he didn't stop at anything until he got what he wanted. He smiled as he tightened his grip on her thighs, hard enough to leave bruises under each finger tip. He could only moan in response, to let it be known, he had no intention of stopping until he got his reward. 

His tongue slid over her clit and circled it with expert precision. The pulling of his hair only pushed him deeper inside of her. He could feel she was close as her body shook and legs began to fail her. 

She realized as soon as he didn’t stop. Horatio would never… Enver, on the other hand, absolutely would. 

Fuck. 

The thought of Enver actually eating her out, pleasuring her, devoting himself to her, pushed her over the edge as the onslaught of sensations wouldn’t let up. Tav’s knees gave out as she shuddered underneath his tongue, her mouth sobbing out incomprehensible curses mixed with his name. 

When he pulled back for air, his face wet with her slick and a knowing smirk on his face, a sudden surge of energy made her shove him away from her, his body falling backwards. 

Chest heaving and cheeks flushed, Tav couldn’t believe her eyes when she finally realized: This wasn’t Horatio. This was Enver. 

“You fucking liar”, she panted, slowly calming down, “don’t think you’ll get anything else from me.”

Enver slid onto his back and exhaled with a smile, bringing his thumb up to the side of his mouth to suck and get one last taste of her. He hummed with approval and looked over at Tav. His legs spread out as he propped himself up onto his elbows in the middle of the alley. 

“I never lied. You made the assumption and I went with it. You’d really fuck my brother? That’s low,” Enver said with a huff of laughter. “I didn’t realize you missed me, Tav. I sure missed you.” 

“Made the assumption?! We buried you”, Tav scoffed in disbelief. She suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, so she hurried to pull up her pants, getting dressed again. While she was overjoyed that Enver was still alive, she was also confused, and embarrassed, and hurt; and she didn’t look back when she hurried back home. 

If he wanted her, even just for a night, he would have to put in more work than that. Tav sighed when she got back to her room in the Elfsong, taking off her boots and clothes, changing into something more comfortable almost immediately so she could hide under the covers of her bed, pushing away all thoughts of that damned mouth on her cunt. 

[upsidedownwithsteve]

The Eleventh Day Of Christmas

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [1.2K]

Honestly? You were pretty sure you wouldn’t have found Eddie if you hadn't managed to catch Wayne before he left the trailer.

You’d pulled up outside the Munson residence just before ten o’clock, the night dark and icy, the kind that made your bones ache with the chill in the air. Wayne was locking up the dark trailer, his truck already running in a half hearted bid to warm it up before he drove to another night shift.

But Eddie’s van was sitting beside it, the windows frosted over - which made no sense when the trailer looked so vacant.

You half ran to the older man as you left your car door open, the crunch of ice under your feet as you walked across the grass. “Hi! Mr Munson?”

Wayne looked surprised to see you, eyebrows lifting in confusion before he walked down the steps and greeted you with a warm smile. “Hey, kid, what’re you doing here?”

“Is Eddie around?” You asked, already feeling like you knew the answer. There was no sound to be heard from the trailer, no TV, no stereo, no faint guitar.

Wayne looked sympathetic, keys twirling in his hand as he sighed. “Uh, I haven’t seen him for an hour or two, but he’ll turn up.” The older man moved to his truck, his hand on the door. “It’s rough this time of year, y’know? The boy - Eddie - he gets, he gets a little down. Misses people who aren’t around anymore.”

Wayne was squinting at you, shoulders tense and his smile was sad, as if he understood Eddie because he felt the same, both mourning a woman who wasn’t there to share the holidays with them anymore.

So you nodded and tried to swallow the lump in your throat, smiling back at the man a little watery. And just before Wayne left for work, he rolled down his truck window and gave you another world weary sigh.

“If you wanna take a walk down that way,” he pointed towards the back of the trailer park. “You can usually find him lurking somewhere he shouldn’t be.”

A glimmer of hope warmed your chest and you took a breath and held it, as if you were scared to let that feeling go. But you turned to Wayne and smiled, nodding. “Thank you, Mr Munson.”

He rolled his eyes before he drove off, engine groaning in protest as the truck started to move. “It’s Wayne,” he scolded you, “I’ve told you plenty times. And hey! Merry Christmas, kid, look after my boy for me.”

You found Eddie in the direction Wayne had pointed you in, his lean frame sprawled out on the roof of an empty trailer. He was bathed in the coloured lights of its neighbour, tiny jewel toned bulbs that were strung around the window frames, the trees in the yard.

You took the same route up that Eddie must’ve, following his footprints in the frost as you clambered onto the deck railing, ready to haul yourself onto the flat roof.

A hand appeared before you could embarrass yourself, a pretty face to match as Eddie’s crinkled brow and concerned eyes peered over the edge at you.

“Sweetheart, what the hell?” Eddie asked but he helped you up all the same, practically lifting you himself so you didn’t have to put your hands onto the icy metal. “What’re you doing here?”

“S’Christmas Eve, Teddy.”

You huffed as you stood a little shakily, the flat roof much higher than it seemed from the ground. So you kept your hand in the boy’s and squeezed it a little tighter, moving into him and away from the edge.

“I know, babe,” Eddie replied softly, tugging you into him. “So why aren’t you with your family, huh?”

You looked up at him with sad eyes and a furrowed brow, wanting to ask him the same. You knew money was tight in the Munson household, both men working as many jobs as they could, whenever they could to keep themselves going. You knew Wayne needed the overtime, you didn’t judge him for that. It just hurt a little to think that Eddie thought the older man was the only family he had.

“I wanted to see you,” you told him and god, he couldn’t be mad at that, could he? Not when you were looking at him with pretty, pretty eyes and an even prettier smile - shy and soft and lifted a little higher on the right side. “That’s okay, right?”

Eddie let out a huff of breath, smiling and turning a little pink around his cheeks. Maybe it was the cold you thought, stinging at his skin. Or maybe, maybe, it was you.

“‘Course it is, babe.”

You followed when Eddie took a step back, his hand still holding yours and he coaxed you back to where you’d first seen him lying, his leather jacket the only thing protecting him from the cold metal roof. He motioned for you to lie on it, his own sweater not doing much to protect him from the ice but he waved away your arguments before you could even open your mouth.

“It’s cold, Eddie, you must be freezing,” you admonished softly, but you lay down anyway, side by side and curling into him. He was all smoke and pine, sugar and warm spice. “It is freezing.”

“S’pretty though, right?” Eddie grinned in response. He pointed up, “see?”

And it was pretty, the stars laid out in the dark sky like another set of Christmas lights, white dots in the inky black. You followed his finger, the like of specks that made up the big dipper, another constellation that Eddie said he didn’t know the name of but liked all the same.

“You do this every Christmas Eve?” You asked quietly, scared to break the bubble of quiet. Your breath froze in the air, a huff of glitter out of your mouth. “Alone?”

Eddie shrugged, still looking up even though you were looking at him. If he blinked, maybe a tear would’ve escaped, a hot trail on cold cheeks.

“Sometimes,” he smiled but it was still a little sad. “S’nice, y’know? Quiet, pretty. I get to say hello to some people I don’t get to talk to all the time. Jus’ a little Christmas tradition.”

You turned onto your side to needle your arm through Eddie’s, chin tucked onto his shoulder, nose pressed to his neck. You breathed him in, lips on his skin and you felt him relax.

“It is pretty,” you agreed, ‘cause the stars in the sky and the lights around the park made everything glow and Eddie Munson had never looked lovelier than under the Milky Way. “But maybe next year, you can come and get me first?”

Eddie could hear the uncertainty in your voice, quiet and too soft, almost going unheard over the rush of a sudden chilly breeze. But he turned to you and smiled, wide, warm palm finding your leg and squeezing.

He nodded, tilting his chin down to brush his lips over your hairline, a reassurance to you as much as it was to him.

“I’d like that,” he whispered.

“I could bring hot chocolate,” you told him, pushing yourself into his touch, his warmth even more. “And a blanket, ‘cause this isn’t very well planned out, Teddy.”

He snorted at your chiding, but he rolled until he hovered over you, elbows pressed to the roof on either side of your head. He looked much happier than before, eyes brighter, smile more genuine. And he nodded, nose bumping yours as he moved.

“Okay,” he agreed, “smart girl, we can do that. Next year.”