#consumer proposal process

[consumerproposal1]

Know everything about consumer proposal process with Consumer Proposal Alberta

Want to get an Alberta consumer proposal but don’t know whom you should approach? Here are all the details that you should know! You should speak with the Licensed Insolvency Trustee if you intend to submit a consumer proposal or want further information about them. LITs are federally regulated experts that offer guidance and remedies to people and organizations with debt issues.

When you speak with a LIT, they will pay particular attention to your debt problems and financial situation. They will also inquire about your debt levels, expenses, salary, and other financial details. They will also take note of your financial history and attempt to understand how you came to be in this condition. Once they have this information, they will give you various options, including counselling, personal bankruptcy, and consumer proposals.

[budgetaryinterior]

Your Comprehensive Guide To The Best Interior Designers In Mumbai

[sukun4scumdump]

Boyfriend Toji, who left killing people as a job, changing completely once you began dating and actually found a stable job, providing for you both.

Boyfriend Toji, who indulges in activities with you, making a huge change in his life to keep you happy and yearns for more moments like this, when you both are at peace.

Boyfriend Toji, who stopped consuming alcohol and smoking, for the sake of you both's future, who wants to have kids with you and doesnt want the consequences of smoking having an effect on his fertility.

Boyfriend Toji, who met your parents, asking for your hand in marriage and when they said yes, he goes out shopping with them to buy your proposal ring.

Boyfriend Toji, who takes you out on a nice picnic date, enjoying your presence and drowning in it.

Boyfriend Toji, who admires your beauty, leaving kisses here and there on your body, smiling against your skin and telling you how lucky he is to have you.

Boyfriend Toji who gets on one knee when you turn around to look at the view, waiting for you to turn around again.

Boyfriend Toji who has tears in his eyes, both out of happiness and nervousness as he asks you to marry him. He cried into your shoulder when you said yes, slipping the delicate band of gold on your ring finger, a promise to marry you.

Fiance Toji, who helps you pick out the perfect wedding dress, hugging you from behind as he whispers in your ear how pretty you are, while the receptionist looks at you both in awe from behind.

Fiance Toji, who you go wedding ring shopping with, finding the prettiest wedding bands for your wedding, telling you how he cant wait to slip the ring on your finger.

Fiance Toji, who helps you pick out the perfect wedding destination, and perfect decoration for your wedding.

Fiance Toji, who nearly shit his pants in nervousness on your wedding day, sweating out of nervousness as he practiced his vows a thousand times, to not fumble up.

Husband Toji, who slipped the ring on your finger, vowing eternal happiness and togetherness, kissing you on your lips, as the crowd cheered you on.

Husband Toji, who is so gentle with you on the night of the wedding, caressing your face, telling you how much of a good job you're doing at taking him in, calling you his princess, kissing you.

Husband Toji, who is overjoyed at the news of your pregnancy, hugging you tightly and whispering in your ear how thankful he is to you, promising to take care of you and the baby.

Husband Toji who helps you get on and off the bed, up and down the stairs, in and out of the bathroom and does all the household chores, from sweeping and mopping the floor to the dishes.

Husband Toji, who is overjoyed when he knows that his child is going to be a girl, who is filled with joy and happiness and cant stop telling you that he is so blessed to have 2 princesses in his life.

Husband Toji, who picks out baby clothes when you go shopping together, picking out the cutest outfits for your babygirl, also buying matching t-shirts for all the three of you.

Husband Toji, who is there with you throughout the birth process. He holds your hand, makes sure you're drinking enough water, comforting you through the whole process.

Father Toji, who finally heads the cry of his baby girl, tears of happiness brimming in his eyes. He holds his baby girl, and the tears fell, onto her soft and delicate skin.

Father Toji, who has skin-on-skin contact with his baby girl, feeling her delicate skin against his scarred one, kissing her forehead and sobbing hysterically, so happy about her.

Husband Toji, who hugs you tightly, thanking you over and over again for making him the luckiest man alive, for blessing him with your daughter.

© 2024 sukun4scumdump . do not copy, imitate or plagiarize. all content is purely an imagination, except for characters and universes .

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi Gallus, I'm doing some worldbuilding and you seem like you could be connected enough for me to find an answer to the problem of dwarven agriculture. Many problems are created by the requirement of no sunlight, as even the common response of mushrooms still need light to break down decomposing matter as a primary energy source. Currently, we're thinking that they use a special type of mushroom that breaks down rocks in an energy-producing reaction, giving them enough energy to absorb nutrients and grow - this would serve a second purpose in explaining why building a massive hollowed-out mountain fortress doesn't produce an equally large amount of gravel.

Any thoughts? We're grasping at straws kinda lol

Well, some thoughts:

There's plenty of cave systems (especially Karst Systems) that are at least partially open to Sunlight- especially the kind that have rivers running through them, which is something else that's really helpful for agriculture.

For Example: This Cool AF Sinkhole cave in china that has an entire Forest in it

Now There's a view to put outside the city Gates!

Karst specifically is a landscape where underground rivers hollow out the limestone underground and then the cave roofs fall in. This kind of landscape answers your gravel question nicely: the hollowed out mountain does produce an equal amount of gravel, but the gravel turns up as the sandy banks of the river system hundreds of miles away.

So, there's your sunlight that can be used directly, or reflected or magically transferred deeper into the cave system.

Or they just put more holes in the roof! Unless your dwarves are also vampires, there's no reason for them to not hollow out a few Skylights into the mountain too.

But let's talk some other cave ecology and agriculture!

For starters, your dwarves could be sitting on top of a literal gold mine that would allow them to trade for a lot of needed materials and crops.

And by gold mine, I mean Salt Mine.

Historically, salt comes out of hollowed-out mountains and is worth more than gold.

Also something the humans have historically fought a bunch of wars over, so there's some free political tensions if you needed that!

I can also mean the possible fucking enormous piles of bat guano that accumulates in Karst caves, which is the world's most insanely good fertilizer, and ALSO something that has been worth more than it's weight in gold.

Speaking of Gold, another thing that often lives in sinkhole caves in abundance is BEES. turns out, limestone stalactites are a terrific place to build a hive that is difficult for predators to reach, stays dry and the stone substrate means the hives can reach many tons in weight before they start having structural issues. That sweet, sweet insect-derived liquid gold is already important to Dwarves in a lot of folklore- it's really hard to have a Traditional Dwarven Mead Hall without the honey to make the mead, you know?

So you got your mushrooms, you got your sunlight-grown sinkhole crops, you got your traded goods and you got your source of alcohol- the only thing really missing from an ancient food pyramid here is a staple carbohydrate. To that end, may I propose our good Peruvian Friend: The Potato.

Grain crops aren't actually all that nutritious and were kept around in ancient societies more as legal tender that kept the peasants busy, because wheat or rice takes months to grow, an enormous amount of labor to harvest, and wheat also needs to be milled before it can be turned into food- all enormously time-consuming processes that keep peasants busy and easy to rule tyranically over.

Potatoes though? Pop one in the ground in spring and you can dig up fingerlings all summer, and if you make potato towers, you can harvest up to 40lbs of delicious, easy-to-prepare-and-store carb out of a single plant- a real space-saver for the limited sinkhole skyspace.

If your dwarves have cheese, the potato makes even more sense, because Potato+dairy is the easiest, most nutritionally complete survival food there is.

Finally, consider: Dwarven Vodka.

This post is open for anyone to comment suggestions on, but that's my take: put your dwarves in a Karst-sinkhole cave system, give them a highly in demand resource like salt or guano, bees, and taters. Boom. Whole agriculture, economy and political scheme starters.

[rivkae-winters]

Edit: the app launched and Is down- I have the initial apology video in a post here and I’m working on getting a full archive of their TikTok up ASAP. I’m letting the rest of this post remain since I do still stand by most of it and also don’t like altering things already in circulation.

Warning for criticism and what I’d consider some harsh to outright mean words:

So I’ve just been made aware of the project known of as ‘lore.fm’ and I’m not a fan for multiple reasons. For one this ‘accessibility’ tool complicates the process of essentially just using a screen reader (something native to all I phones specifically because this is a proposed IOS app) in utterly needless and inaccessible ways. From what I have been seeing on Reddit they have been shielding themselves (or fans of the project have been defending them) with this claim of being an accessibility tool as well to which is infuriating for so many reasons.

I plan to make a longer post explaining why this is a terrible idea later but I’ll keep it short for tonight with my main three criticisms and a few extras:

1. Your service requires people to copy a url for a fic then open your app then paste it into your app and click a button then wait for your audio to be prepared to use. This is needlessly complicating a process that exists on IOS already and can be done IN BROWSER using an overlay that you can fully control the placement of.

2. This is potentially killing your own fandom if it catches on with the proposed target market of xreader smut enjoyers because of only needing the link as mentioned above. You don’t have to open a fic to get a link this the author may potentially not even get any hits much less any other feedback. At least when you download a pdf you leave a hit: the download button is on the page with the fic for a reason. Fandom is a self sustaining eco system and many authors get discouraged and post less/even stop writing all together if they get low interaction.

3. Maybe we shouldn’t put something marketed as turning smut fanfic into audio books on the IOS App Store right now. Maybe with KOSA that’s a bad idea? Just maybe? Sarcasm aside we could see fan fiction be under even more legal threat if minors use this to listen to the content we know they all consume via sites like ao3 (even if we ask them not to) and are caught with it. Auditory content has historically been considered much more obscene/inappropriate than written content: this is a recipe for a disaster and more internet regulations we are trying to avoid.

I also have many issues with the fact that this is obviously redistributing fanfiction (thus violating the copyright we hold over our words and our plots) and removing control the author should have over their content and digital footprint. Then there is the fact that even though the creator on TikTok SAYS you can email to have your fic ‘excluded’ based on the way the demo works (pasting a link) I’m gonna assume that’s just to cover her ass/is utter bullshit. I know that’s harsh but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a duck.

I am all for women in stem- I’ve BEEN a woman in Stem- but this is not a cool girl boss moment. This is someone naive enough to think this will go over well at best or many other things (security risks especially) at worst.

In conclusion for tonight: I hope this person is a troll but there is enough hype and enough paid for web domains that I don’t think that’s the case. There are a litany of reasons every fanfic reader and writer should be against something like this existing and I’ll outline them all in several other posts later.

Do not email their opt out email address there is no saying what is actually happening with that data and it is simply not worth the risks it could bring up. I hate treating seemingly well meaning people like potential cyber criminals but I’ve seen enough shit by now that it’s better to be safe than sorry. You’re much safer just locking all your fics to account only. I haven’t yet but I may in the future if that is the only option.

If anyone wants a screen reader tutorial and a walk through of my free favorites as well as the native IOS screen reader I can post that later as well. Sorry for the heavy content I know it’s not my normal fare.

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

summary: spencer gets drunks and you offer to take him home. your intentions are clear, you long for him to offer you to stay, but when you do, your relationship becomes more unclear.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, drunken confessions, general confessions, kissing, mutual pinning, idiots in love, some angst, fluff, lightly proofread, 3.7k words

<3

the crowd of people in the bar is unexpected, normally there aren’t many people lined across the countertops, snapping their fingers for drinks. it appears that you and the rest of the team have caught the bar at a particularly busy time. you have never been one for bars or alcohol, but whenever the team decides to all go out together, you always find yourself making an exception. after all, who were you kidding? you could use a little distraction from your lingering feelings for a certain pretty boy, genius. 

the entire team sits around a table, nose buried in each of their hands of cards as you compete in an intense game of poker. the air is warm and you can feel each piece of clothing uncomfortably sticking to your stick like a humid summer day. you shift in your seat, bringing one hand away from your cards and to the edge of your tight shirt, carefully pealing it away from your perspirating skin. and though, you meant to erase him from your mind, if only for one night, spencer peeks up from behind his hand of cards, noticing your sudden movement. and when he tilts his head to one side, the motion sending you a silent question, asking “are you okay?” you can’t help but adore him for everything that he is. with a gentle nod in his direction, you silence his worries, before returning to your game of cards without the rest of the team’s knowledge of your interaction. 

"and I win!" morgan’s sudden and triumphant declaration echoes through the room, the resounding slap of his cards hitting the table punctuating his victory. a cocky grin adorns his face, reveling in the satisfaction of his unexpected triumph. the rest of the team, caught off guard, let out a chorus of exasperated groans, their cards dropping onto the table with defeated thuds, and frowns of disbelief etched on their faces. morgan, seizing the opportunity to revel in his victory, turns his attention to spencer, who had been the reigning champion in the previous few games and, truth be told, usually emerges victorious in most gaming scenarios. "would you look at that? pretty boy must've lost his touch," morgan teases, a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully nudges spencer.

spencer, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events, sits there with his mouth agape, his usually quick and analytical mind momentarily stunned by the twist in the game. the unexpected defeat has him grappling with a mix of surprise and amusement, and he blinks in disbelief as if trying to process what just happened.

"cat got your tongue, reid?" morgan continues to taunt, while you and the rest of the team watch, amused, fond smiles cast upon your faces as the friendly banter unfolds.

"must be all those drinks," hotch quips, his tone playfully accusing as he crosses his arms in the seat next to spencer, "starting to cloud that genius brain of yours."

you playfully roll your eyes before spencer calmly counters, "i've only consumed a total of five drinks, which technically wouldn't be enough for the neurotransmitters in my brain to stop fully functioning. they could be slowed down, but I'm still fully capable of winning a game of cards at this stage in the evening." a ripple of laughter and teasing remarks follows spencer's scientific explanation, the team thoroughly enjoying the conversation. you, hotch, rossi, and prentiss exchange amused glances. 

morgan, chuckling at spencer’s very sober response, quips, "okay, it's time for you to have another drink."

spencer raises an eyebrow, contemplating the proposal. "but first, I demand a rematch."

the room erupts in a mix of cheers and groans as the team anticipates another round. penelope, observing from the sidelines, can't help but interject with enthusiasm, "oh, this is getting good! i’ve got my money on reid for the rematch!"

morgan sends penelope a look of faux offence, before returning his attention to spencer with a challenge, "whoever loses, drinks the same number of shots as the highest card in their hand."

spencer considers the terms before nodding in agreement, "deal."

"alright, I think it's time for me to grab another drink," emily declares, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she stands from her seat. she turns her attention to you, a playful glint in her eyes, "care to join me?"

you can't help but laugh in response, the invitation exactly what you need. glancing over at spencer, you notice his keen observation, as if he's scrutinizing your every move. you playfully divert your attention, standing up with a grin. "sure, why not?" you reply, the corners of your mouth turning up.

as you follow emily toward the bar, you observe the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversations surround you, and the lively energy of the bar becomes more apparent. the dim lighting casts a warm glow on the faces of the maybe people all around, creating an inviting feeling that contrasts with the intense focus of the card game.

“so, what’s going on between you and reid?” emily asks nonchalantly, as if the question wouldn’t have the effect on you. she slides you a drink across the countertop before grabbing her own and taking a small sip. you body tenses in response to the question and you don’t want to know what color your cheeks must be. 

“what do you mean?” you ask, trying to ignore that fact that you can’t seem to compose yourself. emily raises her eyebrows, shooting you a look of disbelief. 

“I mean, pretty boy over there, hasn’t stopped glancing over here since we left,” emily explains, her words prompting you to turn your gaze towards spencer and the rest of the team. true to emily’s observation, spencer’s eyes are fixated on you, the intensity of his gaze evident even from across the room, “and I’m pretty sure he’s losing.” emily adds, a small smirk resting on her face and the two of you watch as morgan, once again, slams his cards onto the table with a victorious smile. 

“oh, I don’t think that’s because of me.” you reply quietly, trying to downplay the situation. your gaze shifts back to your drink as you swirl the glass around in your hand and watch the liquid flow. 

“are you sure?” emily questions, her eyes twinkling with mischief and her posture relaxed yet keenly attuned to the movements of the conversation.

“I mean, yeah, we like each other,” you admit, looking up at emily’s smirk, which is accentuated by a slight tilt of her head, before quickly dismissing it away, “but not like that.” 

“but you want it to be, like that.” emily suggests and you don’t respond, confirming her suspicions. the weight of emily's words lingers in the air as the two of you watch the team hand spencer drinks, the effects of the shots he's taking becoming increasingly evident. the atmosphere is charged with unspoken tension, and you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

“I don’t know what I want.” you finally confess, answering emily’s last question with your eye lingering on spencer’s drunken self. 

“I think you do.” emily responds, her voice gentle but probing, “but I don’t think he does.”

“emily, I–” you start to respond, urgency to end the conversation evident in your tone, but before you can, emily interrupts. 

 “oh, it looks like he’s coming over.” she says, her eyes widening with anticipation and her smirk evergrowing on her face.

“what?” the sudden realization sparks a flurry of movement within you, a mix of nerves and excitement intertwining as you prepare for the impending interaction.

“i’ll leave you to it.” emily grins, giving you a supportive pat on the shoulder before slipping away into the crowd.

“hi,” spencer greets and you can practically hear the amount alcohol he has consumed within the tone of his voice. it isn’t the same shy tone that you know and love, there’s a little more sweetness and a slight edge of confidence embracing his voice.

“hi, spence.” you respond, your eyes meeting his in a moment that seems suspended in time.

“you’re so pretty,” spencer suddenly slurs, expressing his admiration with sincerity as he hops on the stool next to you and slumps over the edge of the bar, “you’re always so, so beautiful.” he sighs with a soft smile. you hum in agreement, sipping on your drink as you watch spencer with loving amusement. 

“you know, you’re my favorite person ever.” he adds, before his eyes widen suddenly and he leans forward, gesturing for you to lean with him, “but don’t tell morgan, he thinks it’s him.” spencer whispers, earning a loud cackle from you. that seems to make spencer happy, earning that kind of reaction, even if he’s too drunk to truly understand what he’s saying. 

“I love your laugh.” spencer’s words spill out with a warmth that feels like a comforting embrace in the dimly lit bar. his eyes, glazed but loving, reflect a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. 

“spencer, honey, how much have you had to drink?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. in response, spencer clumsily grasps your hand, his fingers fumbling to intertwine with yours. the touch is a blend of affection and intoxication, and you can't help but smile at the endearing sight.

“shh, shhh, you can’t tell anyone,” spencer replies with a giggle escaping his lips, it makes your heart race and sends a delightful shiver down your spine, “I lost another round of cards.” 

“oh, spence, I think it’s time for you to go home,” you suggest gently, running your thumb across his hand, “do you want me to take you?”

“would you?” spencer’s eyes widen with a hopeful glimmer, lifting his head before a soft curl falls onto his sweaty forehead, “I hate taking the bus alone.” spencer admits, his eyes glistening, almost as if he’s about to cry. 

“let me give you a ride, spencer.” you offer, your voice carrying a soothing reassurance, “you shouldn’t ever have to take the bus alone.”

“I know, I know.” spencer replies quietly, feeling ashamed, before you reach out with the hand not holding his to brush a loose curl away from his face.

“alright, let’s go.” you say, gently standing and guiding him towards the exit of the bar, “do you have all your things?” you ask, stopping to face spencer to see his response. he nods, squeezing you hand, before you smile and walk towards the table where the rest of the team sits in order to grab your purse from your chair. 

“hey guys, we’re heading out. I have to get him home safely.” you announce to your teammates, sending them a gracious smile, thankful for the night out, “we’ll see you in the office on monday.”

a series of goodbyes and drive safes echo from your teammates as you allow spencer to hold your hand and lean on your shoulder for stability. together, you make your way out of the bar and towards your car. unlocking the door, you assist spencer into the passenger seat before settling into the drivers seat and taking a moment to reach over to buckle spencer in.

“I can do that myself.” spencer protests, attempting to push your hands away with sluggish movements. 

“sure you can.” you retort, a gentle smile playing at your lips as an annoyed, “hmph,” leaves spencer’s mouth. 

the drive to his apartment is marked by a comforting quietness, the soft hum of the engine interweaving with the occasional murmurs from spencer. when you arrive, you jog over to the passage door, eager to assist him as you navigate the stairs together. reaching his apartment door, spencer retrieves his keys from his pocket, his attempts to unlock the door met with visible frustration. recognizing the need to intervene, you gently step in, placing your hand over his, “hey, hey, let me help you.” you whisper giving spencer a sympathetic smile before he allows you to take his keys and unlock the apartment door. 

“thank you, y/n.” spencer says, letting go of your hand to take a step into his apartment, while you stand just outside.

“you’re welcome, spence.” you respond gently.

the two of you stand there for a moment, locked in each other’s gaze. but, the silence is too much, you can’t handle the truth of what you and spencer are and are not. 

“I guess I should—” you start, but the hesitation in those few words lights a match of hope in spencer’s heart and he can’t help but interrupt. 

“don’t go.” 

“what?” 

“stay.” spencer says with such emotion that your heart feels like it’s about to stop. and when he reaches out for you to take his hand once more, you don’t hesitate.

“yeah.” you nod, stepping through the doorway and into spencer’s apartment, “yeah, I can do that.” you repeat, taking in the space before you. it looks all too familiar to times that you’ve been before, warmth, inviting, just like him. 

before you can engage in any conversation, spencer's sluggish movements guide the two of you towards his bedroom. he briefly releases your hand to sift through his drawers, searching for a set of less damp clothes to wear for the remainder of the night.

"feel free to use the bathroom," spencer mumbles, his words slightly slurred as he gestures in the direction of the adjacent room. the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm hue, revealing the disheveled state of his bedroom.

in the bathroom, you peel the sweaty material from your skin, feeling the immediate relief of shedding the remnants of a night spent in a crowded bar. the mirror reflects your image, and you assess yourself. the makeup, meticulously applied before the evening's festivities, shows signs of wear. small smudges underneath your eyes and imperceptible flaws on your face catch your attention. you find a washcloth and gently wipe away the remnants of the night, revealing the natural contours of your features.

returning to spencer's room, you find him seated on his bed, his gaze fixed on his lap as his fiddles with his hand. the room is dimly lit, shadows playing on the walls like silent spectators to the unfolding scene. spencer glances up as you enter, his eyes carrying a mix of longing and fatigue.

“stay, with me, please," spencer practically begs, his words carrying a weight of vulnerability that echoes through the room.

"okay," you find yourself saying, the decision flowing from your lips with zero hesitation.

silently, the two of you climb into his bed, laying side by side. your gazes linger on each other for a moment too long, the air thickens and you find yourself momentarily breathless. as you notice spencer lean toward you, searching of your lips, you feel as though your heart beating out of your chest, the rapid movement making my breath catch. but when he kisses you, you know you’re an absolute goner.

his lips are soft and his kiss is gentle, so gentle, like he’s afraid if he kisses too hard, you’ll break. but when you pull away, the realization of spencer's drunken state washes over you.

"I love you," he confesses, the abruptness of his words catching you off guard. your eyes soften with sympathy, understanding that his declaration was led by intoxication. 

"oh, spencer," you hum, reaching forward to gently cup his face, which he tenderly leans into. "tell me when you're sober."

"okay," he murmurs, a whisper of agreement that lingers in the air, before the both of you wrap in each other’s arms and spencer falls into a comforting sleep. yet, you lie awake for moment, questions about your relationship clouding your mind, until finally you give in and fall asleep too. 

—

the morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. as you slowly regain consciousness, a dull ache pulses through your head, the sign of a mild hangover. the warmth of the body beside you serves as a gentle reminder of the events that unfolded the previous night, and a rush of memories floods your mind. you glance at spencer, and you can’t help but notice the furrowed brows on his forehead, confirming your suspicions of a major hangover of his own. the desire to kiss away his discomfort lingers, an unspoken gesture to alleviate the tension etched on his face. however, uncertainty about the nature of your relationship holds you back, even after the intimate connection you shared last night. 

silently, you slip out of the bed, careful not to disturb spencer's peaceful slumber. the soft creak of the door announces your departure as you head to the bathroom, intent on changing back into your own clothes. spencer's clothes, a reminder of the night's events, lay neatly on his dresser. the room retained the echo of shared laughter and whispered conversations, leaving you in a contemplative state.

once dressed, you tiptoe through the hushed space and navigate through the familiar halls of spencer's apartment. in the kitchen, you leave a glass of water, a tylenol, and a quick note on the counter, a small offering to soothe the aftermath of the night. with each passing moment, your thoughts swirl like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. questions about the nature of your relationship with spencer remain, and the quiet house seems to hold the weight of those unanswered queries. you hesitate before leaving, casting a final glance at the still-sleeping spencer, his vulnerability exposed in the morning light.

summoning a cab, you venture back to your own apartment, the familiar surroundings offering a respite from the whirlwind of emotions. the click of your keys on the kitchen counter echoes through the space, and you collapse onto the couch with a sigh. running a hand down your face, you lean back against the cushions as you repeatedly replay the events of the previous night in your mind. 

—

monday morning unfolds with a swiftness that catches you off guard, a reminder that the enjoyment of the weekend has drawn to a close. seeking solace, you head to the bau office early, hoping to avoid spencer, at least for the time being. the comforting hum of the coffee machine beckons, and you find yourself mechanically preparing a cup to ready yourself for the day ahead. a yawn escapes, betraying the exhaustion that lingers from the weekend. as the rich aroma of coffee envelops you, a familiar chuckle interrupts your thoughts.

"how was the rest of your weekend, gorgeous?" morgan inquires, his tone light-hearted, though you can sense a mischievous undertone.

you roll your eyes in response, leaning back against the counter with the warm cup cradled in your hands. "it was good."

morgan, undeterred, pours himself a cup of coffee and continues his interrogation, a sly grin on his face. "and your night with reid? how is pretty boy treating you?"

your eyes widen before narrowing in suspicion. "what do you know?" you question, the accusatory edge in your tone not lost on morgan. he raises his free hand in defense, a playful shrug accompanying his innocent expression.

"hey, I was just wondering," morgan replies before taking a sip of his coffee. "it's obvious that you two like each other," he adds slyly, leaving you momentarily stunned, echoing the shock from your recent conversation with emily.

"no, it's not," you retort, your gaze still narrow as you fight to defend your emotions.

"whatever you say, sweetheart," morgan comments, walking away, leaving you standing by the coffee machine, your mind swirling with the weight of recent revelations.

as you ponder emily's words, spencer's drunken confession, and morgan's casual observations, the scent of books and wool approaches beside you. your heart skips a beat in anticipation of the impending conversation.

“hey, can we talk?” spencer asks, his voice regaining its sweet, shy tone, replacing the confident echoes of his intoxicated self. the smell of books, wool, leather, and a hint of coffee instead of the burning scent of alcohol. his gentle smile and shy gaze. his curls tucked perfectly behind his ears, and his form tall instead of slouched toward the ground. you prefer him this way—sober, gentle, sincere. 

“um, yeah. yeah, we can talk.” you nod, each word a conscious effort to maintain composure.

“look, we can pretend I never said what I said if that means—”

your eyes widen with shock before you interrupt, “what? no! you can’t take it back!” you almost yell, catching the attention of a few of your teammates, who are walking around the office, files in hand. 

“then I don’t really know what to do,” spencer admits, his vulnerability laid bare, “because I meant it, y/n. I love you and I’ll say it a thousand times even if it means that we aren’t friends anymore. and I want you to know I haven’t stopped thinking about you all weekend but I thought you needed space. and—”

“I love you, too, spence.” you confess, stopping spencer’s rant from going any further, and ending any confusion between the two of you. 

spencer's face lights up, delight evident in his expression. "really?" he asks, and a giggle escapes your lips as you revel in his excitement, mirroring your own bubbling joy.

"yes, really," you respond, placing your cup of coffee on the counter. spencer takes a couple of quick strides towards you, a beaming smile seemingly etched permanently on his face.

"can I kiss you?" spencer boldly asks, his excitement momentarily overriding his usual composure. you nod, and spencer gently grasps your face, his palms pressing against your cheeks as he kisses you in such way that tells you he’s been wanting to for a very long time. when you pull away, wide smiles adorn both of your faces, the giddy excitement, like a child’s, taking over your senses and it’s not long before your lips are on his once more. 

“wheels up in ten,” hotch’s voice suddenly interrupts, jolting you back to reality. both you and spencer pull away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment of being caught by your boss, “and I better not see any more of that in my office.” hotch adds sternly, shooting you each a pointed look. 

“yes, sir.” spencer nods nervously, casting you a quick glance, while hotch’s gaze also turns towards you. 

you offer a shrug, glancing at spencer with a soft smile, “i’m not making any promises.”

<3

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @ihrtmasong, @averyhotchner, @jordie-gvf, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw(Here!), Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Leona Kingscholar

Let’s just rip the bandaid off. Leona dates to marry. He’s not someone to invest his time in something troublesome, and frankly? Not many people catch his interest. Sure. He might think someone is physically attractive, but there’s a difference. He doesn’t follow the traditional path either. The ‘dating’ stage doesn’t last long because he’s already made up his mind prior to it.

Dating is pretty much just formality. The moment you agree to it, you’re essentially agreeing to marry him. He’s not going to put in effort for just anyone. Bonus points if he’s the one to confess his feelings first. That is basically concrete confirmation that he intends to marry you.

Leona proposing is inevitable. Only two things stand in his way: time and pride. Time, because he is no idiot. Your ways are unlike his people, and unlike him. He’s patient. He knows how to play the game. He can wait, but not forever. He’ll observe you over time and slip in questions here and there about your goals in life. Then he’ll find a good time frame. Please remember that Leona is not just an ambitious hot-head. He’s a smart one.

Then there is his pride. He will not put himself in a position that has a chance to fail. No. He will play dirty, and wait until you are tinkering with the idea of marriage. He’ll steer conversations towards talks of the future, and make it so you’re the one who starts them. All to get you warmed up to the idea of spending your life with him, and to a stage where he can clearly tell where you lie emotionally. He might appear neutral on the outside; however, it’s all according to plan. While you are just beginning to imagine your lives together, Leona’s already had the thought process long prior. You don’t need to know that though.

The icing on the cake is when you visit his home. Checka is Leona’s secret wingman. Your soft spot for the boy is something he takes advantage of, and lets Checka consume your attention during a tour of the palace. You meet his elder brother, who irritatingly pries for details about your relationship. Leona lets it go. Just this once, because he knows you feeling at home is more important in the long run. You share a room with him during your stay, and he made arrangements for small changes according to your tastes. You’re also gifted with a new wardrobe of traditional clothes for your stay, and given free reign of the area. Naturally you are guarded in secret, as per the King’s orders. His brother knows as well as Leona does that it is imperative that your stay goes well.

You will be touring landmarks and tourist spots within the continent as well. While Leona would much rather laze his free time away in his room (away from his family), he goes. Word spread that he was bringing home his partner. Thank the gossiping maids for that. Walking with you makes the rumors official, and is safer than having you walk alone with Checka and some royal guards. That would have arisen suspicion, and been troublesome. More troublesome than walking around and confirming to the public that you are not to be touched.

Ignoring the many remarks about how Leona is unusually active during his visit (thanks to you), his pride is high. You’ve thoroughly been slotted into his life, and are accepted. Any apprehensions about you denying him were snuffed out. The way you took to living with him so easily proves it. If you weren’t welcomed by his family? Well, it wouldn’t change anything. This scenario just makes what he’s about to do easier.

The first night you arrived, Farlan presented Leona with a Kingscholar family heirloom. A ring that has been in their family for generations. Not meant to be worn permanently, and only for proposals. Farlan used it to propose to his wife, and at the ceremony presented her with the ring he picked out. Now Leona will use it to propose to you.

One look at it and Leona declined. He’s spent his whole life chasing things that he couldn’t have because of his birth status. He would not yield this moment to tradition. Farlan was shocked, but rescinded the offer with a supportive smile. His brother had found himself, and the King was proud.

On the evening of your final night at the palace - Leona finds you alone on the balcony of your shared room. If he was going to do anything, it would be now. Initially he was 100% confident in getting your acceptance, but the longer he watches the less sure he becomes. Deep down there is rooted fear that he will once again become second choice, and that you’ll choose to return to your world over him. His hands are in his pockets, and one of them fists around the ring he prepared long ago.

Right when he moved to back out, you turned to come back inside. Your serene stature brightened at the sight of him, and he gained back some confidence. If you could only look at him that way forever…well, here goes nothing.

What are you doing out there without a coat? It gets extremely cold in the Savannah during the night. Do you want to get sick? I won’t be the one taking care of you….,” he sighs, pushing the door open, “Stubborn mule. Make some room, I’m coming out there….I’m near-certain that you figured it out, but this isn’t just a normal vacation. I brought you here to ask for your hand. What?? Stop playing dumb. Not your ‘hand’ hand - oh, for crying out- marriage! I am asking you to marry me!….I am taking the laughter as a yes, now give me your finger”

{ 'Everything the light touches...is our kingdom' - A golden sunrise. Befitting. He used to hate them. Hate that phrase too. Yet you are the sun that Leona has been searching for. He continues to fight against fate in hopes that his efforts will bare fruit, and you are living proof that there is a chance. Maybe not easily. His life might not be what he originally dreamed. He may not get to sit on a throne of light . Yet there is a light in his life, and he likes to think that fate did not bring it to him. No, he found you all on his own.}

Ruggie Bucchi

'I don't see why you haven't proposed to that young darling yet. Keep waiting and you'll miss your chance, boy'

Well, of all the things Ruggie expected to hear during his visit home, that wasn't one. Normally he'd be nagged over being away too long, or not writing home enough. This? It caught him off guard. Grandma was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong...but, maybe she had a point this time.

Your relationship. It's not something Ruggie has given much thought. It's uncharacteristic of him to get comfortable enough not to look a few steps ahead, but he's gone soft. A fact that he begrudgingly accepts with a grain of salt.

Naturally, he doesn't admit this out loud and instead changes the topic. On the outside, he acts normal and helps out around the house. However, internally he is thinking over his grandmother's prying.

Marriage. It's not necessarily 'beneficial,' to say the least. With only a few months left until graduation, he'll finally be entering the rat-race to secure himself a comfortable position for life. He's worked hard and developed connections to make it happen. The finish line is right there.

Where does that leave you? He can't necessarily be as flexible if he has a partner to worry about. It's a weak link, and might cause problems in his plans. The smart thing to do would be to break things off. After all, how many school romances get a happy ending? It's so unrealistic. He'll be busy with work, you'll have your own responsibilities, and eventually it will be like you are strangers with a title tying both of you together.

This reasoning alone is enough to settle the problem. It's just - he doesn't like it. It's the most realistic path and he hates it. If it was about finding a companion, then he could do it later in life.

But when he tries to picture that lifestyle with anyone other than you, it doesn't sit right. It's physically upsetting, and makes him nauseated.

Sleep evades him that night. Ruggie finds himself sitting in the kitchen doing homework, burning the midnight oil until he can think with a clear head. Naturally, his all-knowing grandmother finds him there and makes him spill his thoughts.

She's direct with her advice. It's rare for Ruggie to be stumped considering his quick-wit, and understanding emotions is a wisdom you gain with experience.

For someone like Ruggie, who's always maximized every outcome and thought ahead - you're a weakness. Something that he can't control, and yet exactly what he needs in life. We don't get to choose who we love in life. Love is unpredictable, and Ruggie's found it at a young age. Career opportunities come and go, but he will never get back the time spent at your side...so why not maximize that instead? Hm?

He leaves for NRC the following day. For the last time, considering it is his final year. On the way he stops at multiple markets and dips into his savings. With nothing but a ring and an idea, he ditches his stuff in his dorm and heads to Ramshackle.

He's not nervous. That left his system the night prior. His grandmother's tough advice hardened that up quick.

He knocks on the door, half expecting one of the resident ghosts to answer. Instead it's you, and he's down on one knee before you can speak. With one hand, he holds out the ring. The other itches his nose in attempt to hide his wobbly grin.

"Shishishishi~ I don't have to explain what's going on, right? I'm sure you can put two-and-two together quickly. Are you really so surprised that you have nothing to say? Hmm, I guess that I can take the lead. Pretty soon I'll be leaving. You still have another year here, and I can't promise that I will be around much. Until now, I had no plan for us. Likely because being with you is the most natural thing I have experienced. I've always aimed for a life of comfort, but now I want you in that picture too, y'know? So...when you graduate next year, will you marry me? I'll be patiently waiting, shishi~”

{Rose Quartz. The symbol of unconditional love and family. Something Ruggie hasn't experienced much in his life, and is grateful for. Ruggie did not want to choose a generic gem. Not for this. He may be known for cutting corners, but this is too important. He has done his fair share of trading, and knows exactly what to look for when shopping. No salesperson alive could convince him otherwise. You may not understand the meaning behind the gem, but that's alright. He doesn't mind, because this is the ring he'll see on your finger until you're both old and grey}

Jack Howl

Jack takes the longest out of all in his dorm. In result, his proposal is the most natural. Not to say that he does not put thought into it! Oh no, this poor lad hella overthinks the event. It's just getting him to the proposing stage is - well, anticlimactic?

All Jack requires is time. Once you've both settled in to your lives on an individual standpoint, with time comes thoughts of taking your relationship to the next level. As adults who have been together for years, it's only natural? At least for Jack. He has never been for or against getting married. So, there really is no internal battle for him to fight. He just? Lets himself be happy with the idea? I know, I know. It sounds too easy - but think about it. Jack is responsible, kind, and a bit like a golden retriever (or should I just say wolf?). He doesn't ignore his feelings. So if he feels that he want's to marry you, then why not? The worst that can happen is you say no.

There was no epiphany. No spark or overwhelming feeling of affection that made him want to marry you. No impending doom, nervousness, or special moment that he can pinpoint as 'the moment'. Nothing. You weren't even around.

He was merely finishing up morning jog and heading home. The thought casually entered his head, and he let it stay. Over time it reappeared over and over, until he felt that he'd heard it enough to act on it.

Jack is high-key observant and knows your likes and dislikes by heart. He feels that such an important moment is something he needs to think through deeply, and on his own. Many have been at the receiving end of his determination, and that doesn't exclude you. Once he's set his mind to something, there is no holding back. Over the course of weeks he proceeds to undergo self-reflection, and craft a proposal that he feels is perfect.

One question he spends time thinking about is 'where,' because Jack would prefer to do an intimate act like proposing somewhere private. The last thing he wants you to feel is pressure to accept, so he chooses to propose on a late night walk. This might arise suspicion since he isn't in workout gear, which is rare. Yet it's a price Jack is willing to pay. He's never been great with surprises anyways.

He tries to uphold some element of mystery though. Do not laugh, but he put the in a plastic bag and hid it inside the container for his protein powder. When times get tough, you have to get a little creative.

Right before your evening stroll, he says that he wants to make a shake (under the pretense that afterwards he'll work-out). In actuality, he takes an empty bottle and slips the ring inside.

While you're both walking, he shakes it around and 'complains' that nothing is coming out. With you completely unknowing, he opens the cap and feigns surprise. It makes you curious, and he hands over the bottle a bit too eagerly

It's light, you note instantly. A glance inside reveals the ring, and when you pull it out Jack stops walking. His face sets with determination despite the red hue overtaking his neck and ears.

Will you marry me?? -- oh wait, that was too blunt, wasn't it? Hang on!, " he takes a breath, and coughs into his fist, "So. I've been doing some thinking. We've been together for years now, and to me you've become irreplaceable. I don't know how else to describe how I feel, other than to say that you are the person I want to spend my life with. I can only hope that you feel this way too,"

{He isn't a man of the arts. Jack has no eye for fancy jewels, or what's an appropriate design. He originally thought to have the shop keeper help him decide. Yet, that felt impersonal. So he perused many stores, and did his best to imagine your reaction to seeing each ring. Nothing caught his eye until this peridot. A simple cut with an eye-catching color. Sure, it's not what others would recommend but he liked it. Who would Jack be to deny his gut instinct?}

[many-shades-of-violence]

with an s/o that has their jolly roger tattooed on their womb I Law, Luffy

characters: Law, Luffy

content: tattoos, implications of suggestive themes

requested by: @anonymous

Law, initially oblivious to the concealed tattoo adorning your abdomen, had two reasons for his ignorance: it remained hidden beneath your clothing, and as the captain of the Polar Tang, intimate moments were often a rare luxury.

However, on one scorching day, the crew made a decision to take a break on a secluded beach, seeking solace from the heat.

Law, typically drawn to solitude, found a quiet spot away from the group, relishing the peace and quiet.

When you emerged from the Polar Tang, accompanied by Ikkaku, donning a bikini that left little to the imagination, Law casually glanced up, expecting a simple greeting.

What met his eyes, however, was a breathtaking sight that left him momentarily stunned, a shiver racing down his spine.

His gaze locked onto the unmistakable Jolly Roger inked over your womb area, and for a moment, his analytical mind struggled to process the scene.

The whistles and catcalls from Shachi and Penguin only compounded his disorientation, and it nearly cracked his usually stoic demeanor.

Without hesitation, Law would employ his Devil Fruit ability, creating a Room to whisk the two of you away, needing to address the situation privately.

Typically indifferent to tattoos on his significant other, especially if they paid homage to his crew, the placement of your tattoo had stirred a tumultuous mixture of emotions within him.

Regardless of your explanation for the tattoo's location, the moment you place his hand over it, he would relent, his initial reservations giving way to a hint of vulnerability.

Law's initial flustered reaction would gradually give way to a realization that he found the tattoo exceptionally alluring.

In response, he would naturally seek positions during intimate moments where he could admire the tattoo, relishing in the visual of it.

Will cum on it.

Luffy, in his typical fashion, sprawls on the sun-kissed sand, heartily munching on a chunk of meat as the Straw Hat Pirates revel in the joy of the beach.

When his beloved approaches in a tantalizingly skimpy bikini, Luffy glances up, anticipating a friendly greeting.

His gaze, however, quickly zeroes in on the familiar Jolly Roger tattoo adorning their womb area.

An eruption of awe consumes Luffy, and he catapults to his feet, meat left behind, his finger firmly pointing at the tattoo.

With an exuberant cry of, "Whoa! That's awesome!" he captures the undivided attention of the entire crew.

Without hesitation, he dashes over to them, his grin stretching from ear to ear, utterly unperturbed by the scanty attire.

Luffy's enthusiasm knows no bounds; he insists on proudly showcasing the tattoo to all his companions, proclaiming their newfound status as an honorary Straw Hat member.

He might even propose an impromptu celebration, whether it's a beachside barbecue or a slew of lively, sand-between-your-toes games.

Throughout the day, Luffy wears a perpetual smile, lavishing his partner with affectionate gestures and showers of praise.

When intimacy beckons, Luffy's fingers instinctively find their way to the tattoo, caressing it with fervor, a testament to his love and pride.

Loves to pepper it with kisses or make it bulge when he fills you up to the hilt

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

shuro notes

upon rereading some of dungeon meshi, I got a better grasp on his role in the story and why hes in the main supporting cast along w kabru (main protag of the suporting cast), namari, and mithrun (main antag of the supp cast) . Contrary to most of the characters disliking eating monsters, he seems to dislike eating, period. In his first appearance he refuses to eat maizurus cooking (with maybe some mermaid eggs sprinkled in..?). His refusal to eat ties into his extreme passivity. He seems to dislike how his father does what he pleases with no regard to how it affects others, and his fear of doing the same seems to play a huge role in how he lets other ppl walk all over him. He ignores his own desires, including his own hunger, because consuming means taking another life. To live means something else has to die, so to desire is to want to take from others. To try to live up to the image of an impassive leader he tries to not participate in this process at all! But bc hes a human being he has to eat, so instead of never taking from others, he starves.

With Falin, I think he realizes there is a way forward where he could be himself and face the ugly realities of what it means to want. To be unabashedly yourself while not hurting everyone in your life. His love comes from a deep place of admiration! I think part of the reason why he's so dead set on saving her is bc he wants to be her equal—she saved him from his nightmares without a second thought, and part of it is to repay her kindness and to be able to reciprocate it. I think he foils nicely w marcille bc he proposes to her (asks her to choose her future) while marcille doesnt want her to move on from the time they were both children. I think this plays a huge part in why marcille hates him, bc its a reminder of how the time will pass and also he aims to take falin away from her. Interestingly, she also became fairly distant and withdrawn after falin left and they both formed their relationship w her bc dirt and bugs r cool. They both are the party members in Laios squad that fly off the handle the most. Socioeconomically, they both seem to be in the least dire straits and kinda prissy abt things as a result. On re-read something else clicked into place.

After his fight w laios that starts w legit grievances and devolves into him hitting all of laios’ insecurities like a game of whack-a-mole, shuro says he’s returning to his home country and after that he would never see any of these ppl again. Even before falin got eaten, he knew he was going to have to leave the party but couldnt bring himself to tell them. The way the convo goes, it seems part of the reason why he proposed to her so suddenly is bc he wants to take a part of his time on the island back home with him—i.e. that hes not ready to say goodbye. That the prospect was taken from him so suddenly is why this is the first thing hes asked for or wanted for himself. Interesting parallels to how marcille is not ready to live the rest of her 1000 year life without her friends now, and how falins death is a catalyst that brings her fear to the surface—that for both of them, theyll live the rest of their lives never seeing the ppl they love from this island again. I think part of the reason he is so nasty to laios in particular is bc his entire worldview falls apart at laios' actions

Both desire wise and literally, Shuro is starving. And like a starving person getting his first meal in a long time, I think he gets a little greedy—when he gives Laios the bell, he says if the party somehow makes it past thistle, to ring it so they can all escape to the East--where he's headed. Likewise marcilles solution is to bring everyone with her to the 1000 year lifespan. Thats surprisingly childish of both of them! Also not a solution to the problem that suits anyone but themselves. Theres so many solutions to this. He could write. He could call. He could communicate view morse code using that bell instead of attempting to blink in morse code to communicate to laios how he doesnt want to be here. Falin voice: I’ll go visit you, okay? He could set foot on the island again. Honestly. This is so embarrassing for him.

But I think it gets at a core theme of the work. Marcille, Laios, and Shuro all say their greatest desire is to save Falin, but once u get down to it, theyre pretty basic-to not be left alone, to be w monsters who u feel a kinship with, to not have to leave. Namari says she left bc of money but later on goes u must never let go of your fear. Kabru says he wants to get to know laios to prevent utaya from happening again but its much simpler-he wants to be his friend. Our base desires are petty, but they are what keep us going day to day, just like how every living being has to hunger and eat to achieve the goals they set out for.

Lets talk abt his relationship w his retainers.

Hein- theyre childhood friends that have drifted apart in adulthood. By the familiar way she talks about him when hes not around, I think she wants to be close to him again. I think the distance between them is probably intentionally imposed by Shuro bc hes afraid theyll turn out like maizuru and his father. She thinks hes unreliable in a way i think u can only rlly get when u know someone for that long. I wonder if some of that I thought wed always end up together and I want him to like me even tho I dont like him back is wanting that closeness in friendship again

Maizuru- Good god whats happening here. she loves him but also treats him like a child even tho hes a 26 year old man. I think its got fun connections to how kabrus adoptive mom treats him like a child, how marcilles not ready to see falin n herself as adults, thistles relationship w degal. Now these are all relationships where differences in lifespan come into play, but w maizuru n shuro i think u see something real banal in why these elves cant let the ppl in their lives go. She coddles him bc she loves him and tells him at the end he doesn't have to eat the dragon if he doesn't want to, but he rebukes her and says he has to eat it to accept his own failures. So like he doesn't need to be coddled he needs ppl in his life to challenge him so he can grow. And at the end he realizes it tastes good--that even tho his journey had so much conflict and in the end he failed to save falin he made friends! He grew as a person! He starts reaching out to his retainers again! He got to harrass the elf cops and give them migraines! Ties a lot into laios speech to marcille that if falin didnt die they wouldn't have met all these ppl and gotten to eat all this food.

Its wild she put that hag curse on him. Poor kid cant even take a shit in peace. Actually the fact that he couldnt even have that time for himself n grew up constantly feeling watched explains a lot. I think the fact his father nonchalently burnt it and then roasted mochi over it without giving him any explaination made him think oh this is just what everyone goes through and im the weird one for being frightened. And it takes him 20 years to find out that no, its not normal to be haunted by a ghost that chases you with a knife. Pretty apt metaphor for how rules have defined his life without him fully understanding why they're in place. I'll give it a crack tho--it seems like the time period his homelands based on the sengoku period bc its a period of heavy civil war where ppl below upsurped the ppl above them. The strict hierarchy is probably an attempt to exercise social control in an extremely precarious situation.

Also side note: kinda impressive he can do magic when he was six. Probs a combination of maizuru being a talented teacher and his own skill. The fire cast… close but no cigar. Also interesting is how the magic he casts seems more elf-y in nature vs maizurus gnomic spirit magic. I wonder if hes his partys black mage- the occupation his party is pointedly missing vs the toudens missing their white mage and kabrus party being well rounded at all points. If so thats hilarious that when the toudens lost their previous mage and everyone was panicking he was like well… im just not gonna say anything #OnBrand. I do wonder if the bell he gives laios is his own magic tho.

Also shuros mother is mad at maizuru for being shuros dads mistress but gives her her children to raise…. Lets unpack this contradiction. Incidentally my tin foil hat theory is Shuros a bastard child. maizuru n his dad have been fucking since 4ever -> one of these children is not legitiment -> probs the one w a strange distance from the rest -> whys shuro succeeding his dad so up in the air when his competitions a 14 and an 8 year old. It's not important tho.

izutsumi + inutade: the fact that he doesnt speak up is his defining moment of moral cowardice. Its tied to his passivity! Hes scared of saying or doing the wrong thing bc hes afraid of hurting others, and he does basically attempt to torch his relationship w laios like it was contaminated w anthrax. Like the first time he tries to be active it went horribly, but his involvement moves the plot forward enormously—with him kabru would not have run into Laios, izutsumi would probably not have been able to run away, he raises the stakes of the journey by indicating they probs cant return to the surface so they have to keep going. And even tho its messy, ugly, and embarassing, he can still pick up the pieces afterwards. Nothing he does is as harmful as his passivity on inutade and izutsumis situations which unequivically, he knows is wrong.

Also w all the references to buying people, I looked it up bc i was like.... like slavery...? it seems to be a reference to retainership as a social caste where people buy your services and as a result you owe the estate your service. You get paid and you have rights, but it seems like you are bound to your station, but depending on the time period japan is supposed to reference, some ppl took on these positions for the sake of social advancement. Regardless, it seems the caste system is also less rigid than stated and ppl can move amongst the positions. There doesn't seem to be an exact cultural equivelent to this, but I think the closest concept is like, being a vassal. I was like if this is slavery this narrative portrays izutsumis time w the nakamotos too ambivenlently and hien going don't you feel any gratefulness for them taking you in makes no sense. But I still think theres something pretty rotten going on here.

Allegedly, as a ninja, you ascend the ranks based on your skill. And yet izutsumi and inutade are at the bottom, and hien, the person that was born into this role, is at the top! Izutsumi and Inutade aren't even considered human in the island of wa--this distinction is given to tall-men only. Theyre both from positions where I feel like the other characters are like they should be grateful they got from one horrible situation to this one thats a system based on merit and skill, but like out of everyone, theyre in the least position of power to say no, to even appreciate what other options there are for them in the world. Like its deeply coercive and wrong. Whats up w shuros father collecting ppl like theyre trophies man. So we can see a system allegedy based on merit is not one at all. Also I feel theres undertones of japanese imperialism with izutsumi being from the equivelent of central asia and having a soul of a child stuffed into her like some kinda of science experiment. Maizurus constantly trying to "civilize" her by teaching her ettiquite such as using your chopsticks. Like the rhetoric of the elves ape pretty directly to imperialistic sentiments, it would not surprise me if theres intentional commentary about japanese imperialism in how izutsumis treated bc japans kinda known in the east for their imperialism... theyve just done it so many times like my parents were like we left our families, our culture, everything we knew behind to go to america.... but we kept our death grudge against japan tho!! #lmfao. Honestly fair. anyways i think theres intentional parallels between how izutsumi is treated as both as a child and a feral animal by maizuru and how the elves treate other races as children that need toys taken away from them. But also how fundementaly, maizurus unsuited to take care of izutsumi bc the tools she has are not suited to izutsumis needs! She has no understanding of izutsumis life. Her hag curse turns from a highly questionable child rearing tactic on shuro to outright a slave collar on izutsumi. Teaching shuro ettiquate and being able to fight gives him the tools to survive in the postion he was born in but is erasing the culture izutsumi grew up in and has been taken away from before she even knew what it meant. Bc she was treated like a circus freak she never got to choose for herself! Tho providing the basic comforts to shuro is a privilage, it's not to izutsumi bc shes never been able to choose what she wants in life. It's why shes set up as shuros narrative foil like so:

This is his pensive look btw its a consistant tic that he lookes like hes glaring when hes deep in thought. Maizurus is both these people's strange mother figure who feeds them in liu of their actual mother. She smothers shuro in love and doesn't let him face actual challenges in life while she intensely disciplines izutsumi. Shuro reacts to this by aquiessing and never making demands of his own while izutsumi constantly refuses to conform. This is probably why he doens't get her.

In the early points of the story, shuro either says leave izutsumi for dead or leave her so she can pursue her freedom. The ambiguity is intentional, because i think in this part of the story we are not supposed to have a good read on him. But it's also because because of his passivity he doesn't do shit for her! So he loses out on having any type of relationship w her even tho they were tormented by the same curse. But crucially he may have learned from this w inutade, who he explicitly aknowledges how her situation is fucked up and her worship of his father is due to an insane power imbalance even tho he has no clue how to talk to her about this. And at the very end of the manga, he gets into an eating contest with her at her prodding as equals. So maybe there's hope he can do better. But I think its important that his relationship w izutsumi is non-existent as a consequence of his passivity despite the things they have in common bc theres no excuse for it. Thier relationship probs deserves its own post.

benichidori - very funny amongst all these complicated relationships these two just straight up dont know each other n r too shy to do so. Is what I was going to say but then I realized benichidori has taken shuros place as hiens closet friend and I wonder if theres any jealousy abt that. But also she shares a lot of traits w shuro and isnt that just interesting:

but even more interesting is her comic:

this is beat for beat shuros conflict w laios.

We only care about one thing: the crushing opinion of everyone in the universe.

I didnt get this on my first read even tho laios was like hes smart but he is incredibly sharp. Hes good at making useful deductions when things dont add up. It rlly reminds u hes trained in espionage.

He keeps kabru on his toes! interesting for such a smooth talker.

He gets kabru to open up about his motivations here and how it affected him and kabru actually shares some of his own feelings on the manner when usually hes holding ppl at arms length. I think him getting a chance to recite this helps prep him to talk to the caneries where notably, hes a lot more clinical about it.

Its nice all three of these ppl can challenge each other and support each other. I think it would be funny if kabru hits em up in the future like do u wanna start some shit for old times sake

able to tell chilchuck was not a child

is afraid of marcille which tbh fantastic call

Everyone else horrified marcille just killed a man but he's like yeah #tracks.

Other things that reminded me hes basically a fixer:

Spends his screentime evading the elf cops.

Refuses to talk to the canaries even under threat of being interegated for 50 years despite threatening laios party multiple times that hes gonna tell on them. instead spends his time going tbh i've never known anything in my life. I'm stupid like that :pensive emoji:

Incredible bit of manipulation on his part-he pretends to be thinking out loud to cast doubt on the canaries judgement to appeal to the ppl in the dungeon that are not motivated by the goodness of their hearts. Reminds me of namaris relatively selfish reasons for leaving the party--needing to get paid, which is a need she was ignoring for far too long and also laios was also not paying proper attn too when namaris in dire straits, and how she says she left the party after the dragon bc she remembered to never forget your fear. That selfishness must also drive you forward. Then he uses that doubt to twist the situation to say all their information could be false so maaaybe the situation is not as dire as they claim and they have other motives (social control). And he pretends hes talking to the caneries but this is directed to everyone else. He and namari pretend to pick a fight so the leader's distracted and everyone else uses this opening to scatter, which causes enough chaos that it breaks the control the elves have. Which is wild bc shuro knows the dungeon is dangerous bc kabru told him about utaya. He also knows laios party can be dangerous w the amount of collateral they cause w the dragon. He puts a lot of ppl in danger that do not need to be even though multiple times he worries about people getting hurt. At his core, tho, I think he wants to see laios and his party again and that selfish desire trumps everything else in this moment. Namari and shuro are so ride or die TBH.

He never shares any of this when not prompted. Except notably at the end he interrupts when ppl think laios might be dead. Which as an aside I think its interesting his biggest contribution to saving falin is not thru his fighting prowess, but through the simple fact he reached out to laios. His compassions his greatest strength. Laios frestrautes him and kabru, and they both punch him and complain that theyll never understand him, but I think they dont have to. Love requires compromise—it requires eating things you really dont want to, you clash and you hurt each other, but what matters most is that you keep reaching out to one another, that you keep on trying to understand each other. Living requires you to hurt and be hurt, to give and take.

Once again stuck in the middle of an insane and ancient beef

low key funny that he remembered the last time he was here and he was like u know what.... ill just sit this one out....

If my son told me he spent the last week pissing off the elf cops, Id be like yeah thats what the nakamotos are all about TBH

Theres pretty juicy stuff abt how laios is interested in shuro because hes exotic like a monster and his own relationship with being othered by ppl and the fact that shuro is constantly referred to as a foreighner even to ppl hes known and has risked his life for for two years + how to laios monsterhood is a type of freedom while being othered is a type of dehumanization for shuro + how hes trying to show some kind of solidarity to shuro but hes microagressing him thru his attemps + how laios just is being explicitly saying the racist beliefs everyone else implicitly holds just like how mithrun says other races are inferior races which horrifies the rest of the elves but its honestly what they believe but I'm tired and need to think abt it a bit more.

Why do shuro and his party from an island primarily composed of humans and other ppl sometimes not classified as humans but have similair lifespan bc of sociopolitical reasons imitate so many interracial dynamics despite being of the same race? It's to show how marcilles wrong about how the inequality between races exists bc of lifespan differences. Her own fears due to fantastical reasons of being a half-elf and unable to relate any of her insecurities to other ppl are not exclusive to her! Tall-men - Tall-men relationships run along the same lines and have the same conflicts. All the things she fears are things that make her human, that other people have also felt.

in conclusion:

think abt the messiest person u know. Its a man

jk its marcille #feminism

[kckt88]

baiser de la mort.

Summary:

'The innocents are always the ones to suffer during times of war'

Aemond and Y.N grieve for the loss of their son.

Warnings - Heavy Angst, Drama, Langauage, Child Loss, References to Death, Grief, Mourning, Mental Health, Delusions, References to Smut, Suicide, Dark Aemond, Mention of Non/Con use of Moontea, Death.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x Y.N

A.N - baiser de la mort - Kiss of death.

Word Count: 4654

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Y.N stood at the window, her hair unkempt and wild, her eyes glazed with a haunting emptiness as she clutched a blood-stained blanket to her chest.

Her precious son, Aerys, was gone, ripped from her in the most violent of ways. Assassins had come in the dead of night, seeking retribution against her husband, Aemond, for the death of Lucerys.

But it was her innocent boy who had paid the price for his father’s crime.

Y.N couldn’t eat; she couldn’t sleep. She was a mother without her child, her heart shattered beyond repair. The once vibrant woman now stood a ghost of herself, consumed by an unbearable grief that echoed through the silent halls of her home.

The world outside continued on, indifferent to her pain, while she remained frozen in that moment of loss, her soul forever scarred.

Aemond sat with his head bowed and his hands trembling. The weight of his grief pressed down on him, nearly suffocating.

It was his fault, all of it. That fateful day at Storm's End, he had lost his temper. The bitterness and pain over the loss of his eye had reached a boiling point. He had chased after Luke with Vhagar, intending to frighten him, not to kill him.

But Arrax, had attacked first and Vhagar, in her fury, had snatched the two of them out of the sky and torn them to shreds. The image of that violent moment played over and over in Aemond's mind, an endless nightmare from which he could not awaken.

He was sorry for what had happened, but he couldn't take it back and now his son had paid the price for his actions.

He would never forget his wife's screams as she held their son's lifeless body in her arms, her cries of anguish piercing through the night.

Even now, the haunted look in her eyes tore at his soul as she slowly lost herself to the unbearable grief. It was his fault. He had done this.

Aemond's heart ached with a remorse so profound that it seemed to consume him. He could not escape the shadows of his own making, the regret that gnawed at him every waking moment.

His son was gone, and nothing could ever make it right. The price of his anger was too steep, and he would bear the weight of it for the rest of his life.

Aemond's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning with a fury that matched the intensity of his grief. His grandsire, stood before him, suggesting with cold pragmatism that they should parade his son's body through the streets of King's Landing.

Aemond could scarcely believe the audacity. How dare he propose such a monstrous display?

"Do you hear yourself?" Aemond spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You wish to parade my son's body through the streets like some grotesque trophy for the smallfolk to gawk at? He was my son, not a pawn in your political games."

Otto's face remained impassive, but his eyes were steely. "The people must see the cost of Rhaenyra's ambition, Aemond. They need to know who is responsible for this tragedy."

"It wasn't her," Aemond growled, his voice breaking. "It was me. I killed Luke-I drew first blood”

In the end he was persuaded by his mother, to allow his son's body to be paraded through the city.

The procession moved slowly, the atmosphere thick with sorrow and tension. The streets were lined with citizens who stood in quiet respect.

They watched as flower petals were scattered in the air, a delicate contrast to the grim reality of the event. The petals fell gently, almost mockingly, on the solemn parade.

In a dark carriage that followed the procession, Y.N sat hunched beside Alicent. Her gaze was distant, fixed on some unfathomable point in the space before her.

She wore the grief like a cloak, her face an ashen mask of silent torment. The parade’s spectacle did nothing to pierce her numb shell; she remained unresponsive, lost in her sorrow.

When the procession finally reached the pyre, Aemond, his face pale and drawn, gave the command to Vhagar, with a voice that trembled but held a resolute edge.

The dragon's fiery breath ignited the pyre, sending a column of flame skyward. The flames consumed the pyre with a fierce, unrelenting hunger, and the smoke billowed up into the grey sky, carrying the last remnants of their son away.

Even then, amid the crackling fire and the tears of onlookers, Y.N remained silent. She did not react to the sight of her child's remains being turned to ash. Her grief had rendered her mute, a mother broken beyond the reach of words.

The chasm between him and his wife, Y.N., grew wider by the day, an abyss of grief and guilt that he couldn't bridge.

Once, they had shared a good marriage. Aemond had been hesitant to take a wife, but she had been kind and patient. She listened to him, held him, loved him. And he had loved her in return.

They had often indulged in the pleasures of the marriage bed, Aemond loved nothing more than devouring her sweet cunny until she cried and screamed his name and then sheathing himself within her warm wet heat.

Given the frequency in which he spilled his seed inside her they were blessed with their son. Such a little thing he was, but so perfect, his silver hair and amethyst eyes.

Now, his son was gone, and so was the woman he loved. Y.N. wouldn't look at him, wouldn't speak to him.

She had stopped taking care of herself, spending hours staring out of the window, still clutching their son's bloodied blanket. Aemond felt a deep, helpless frustration. He wanted to help her, to reach out and pull her from the abyss, but he didn't know how.

Otto's suggestion had only poured salt into the wound. Exploiting his son's death for political gain had been abhorrent to him. But he had given in and allowed the spectacle and he felt even worse for it.

He approached the window where Y.N. stood, her gaze distant and unfocused. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her shoulder, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her. The distance between them seemed insurmountable.

"Y.N.," he whispered, his voice filled with a sorrow so deep it felt like it would swallow him whole. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to help you."

But there was no response, no flicker of recognition in her eyes. She was lost to him, just as their son was lost to them both.

The war between Aegon's Greens and Rhaenyra's Blacks raged on, each day bringing new horrors.

Amidst the chaos, Y.N.'s behaviour began to change in unsettling ways. She started talking as if their son, Aerys, was still alive. She would call for him, her voice filled with a desperate longing.

"Aerys, where are you my sweet? Come to your mother," she would say, her eyes scanning the room as if expecting him to appear at any moment.

Aemond's heart ached each time he heard her. He would gently try to remind her of the painful truth.

"Y.N., Aerys is gone," he would say softly, his voice breaking with sorrow.

But she would turn on him, eyes blazing with anger and confusion. "Why are you saying such things? It's a cruel joke, Aemond. Our sweet boy is still alive. Stop tormenting me."

The tension between them grew, Aemond's helplessness deepening with each passing day. He watched as his wife slipped further from reality, her mind a fractured mirror reflecting the past and present in a chaotic swirl.

There were moments when she would remember, and those moments were the most heartbreaking of all.

She would collapse, her screams of grief echoing through the halls, chilling everyone who heard them. "He's gone! My baby is gone!" she would wail, her voice raw and ragged.

Aemond would hold her then, rocking her back and forth, trying to offer comfort where there was none to be found.

The once vibrant woman he had loved was now a shadow of herself, caught in an endless cycle of denial and despair.

Aemond struggled to maintain his composure, the weight of his guilt and sorrow threatening to crush him. He was fighting a war on two fronts: one against their enemies, and one within the walls of their home.

In the rare quiet moments, Aemond would sit by Y.N.'s side, his hand gently holding hers. "I wish I could bring him back," he would whisper, his voice filled with a pain that mirrored her own. "I would give anything to see him again, to see you smile."

But Y.N. would simply look at him with vacant eyes, lost in a world where her son was still alive, and her heart wasn't shattered.

Aemond knew he had to be strong for both of them, to navigate the war outside and the turmoil within. Yet, with each passing day, he feared the war would take them both before they could ever find peace.

Y.N.'s descent into madness grew more volatile with each passing day. Her grief and confusion often turned into fits of rage, and Aemond often bore the brunt of it.

She would lash out at him, her hands striking him with a surprising force, her screams echoing through the halls.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she would cry, her voice filled with anguish. "Why are you letting this happen? Bring Aerys back! Bring my son back!"

There were times when the guards had to restrain her, their gentle attempts to subdue her only making her struggles more frantic. "Let me go! I want my baby! Aemond, make them stop!" she would scream, her eyes wild with desperation.

Aemond stood helpless, watching as his beloved wife was held back, her mind lost in a labyrinth of sorrow and rage. The sight of her, once so composed and loving, now so broken and tormented, tore at his heart. He longed to reach her, to pull her back from the brink, but he didn't know how.

In the midst of this turmoil, his grandsire approached him with a proposition that made Aemond's blood boil.

"Perhaps it would be best to send Y.N. away," Otto suggested, his tone coldly pragmatic. "She could become a septa, and we could annul the marriage. You could form new alliances that would strengthen our position in the war."

Aemond's anger flared, his fists clenching at his sides. "I will not set her aside," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I have already lost my son; I will not lose her too. And I certainly won't allow you to use me to forge alliances elsewhere."

Otto's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. He turned and left, leaving Aemond to wrestle with his despair and his resolve.

He knew that his wife's condition was deteriorating, but he refused to abandon her. She had been his strength, his confidant, and his love. He could not—would not—let her go.

Returning to Y.N.'s side, Aemond knelt before her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-streaked face. "I'm here, Y.N.," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll find a way through this. I promise you."

But her eyes, once so full of life and love, were vacant and unseeing. She murmured incoherent apologies, pleading to be a good wife, to make things right, not understanding that the world around her had irrevocably changed.

Aemond gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly as she wept. He vowed to himself that he would protect her, that he would fight for her.

The war outside was brutal, but the war within their hearts was even more so. And in this, Aemond knew he had to stand strong, for both of them.

Aemond stood in the doorway, his heart heavy as he watched Y.N. sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was speaking softly, her voice carrying a gentle, loving tone that once filled their home with warmth and joy. Now, it only brought a deep, aching sadness.

"Aerys, you did so well in your lessons today," she praised, her eyes fixed on an empty spot before her. "I'm so proud of you, my sweet boy."

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her back to reality, but he knew it would only cause her more pain. She turned to him then, her eyes filled with a desperate hope.

"Aemond, aren't you proud of our son?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Aemond nodded weakly, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, Y.N.," he said softly. "I'm very proud of him."

She smiled, a brief flicker of the woman she once was. Aemond's heart shattered anew, the weight of his guilt and sorrow pressing down on him like a crushing tide.

He watched as she continued speaking to their son who wasn't there, her words a mix of encouragement and gentle admonishments.

"Aerys, remember to practice your letters. Your father and I know you can do it. You're such a clever boy," she said, her eyes shining with a love that was now directed at a ghost.

Aemond felt a deep, gnawing helplessness. He couldn't bring Aerys back, and he couldn't pull Y.N. from the abyss of her grief.

All he could do was be there, a silent witness to her pain, hoping against hope that somehow, they would find a way to heal.

For now, he would nod and smile, pretending along with her, because it was the only way he could offer her any semblance of comfort. And as she spoke to their son who wasn't there, Aemond silently vowed to stand by her, even if she never truly returned to him.

Aemond was seated at the council table, his mind only half-focused on the discussion of troop movements and supply lines, the Velaryon blockade in the Gullet was proving troublesome and food was becoming scarce.

His brother had suggested taking Vhagar and Sunfyre to burn the blockade, but their mother and grandsire urged caution.

Citing the dangers of unleashing the dragons during the war and the devastation they would reign down from the skies.

But he as only half listening, his thoughts were constantly with Y.N., wondering how she was faring in his absence. Suddenly, the door to the chamber swung open, and a guard hurried in, his face pale and anxious.

"Prince Aemond," the guard said, bowing quickly. "It's your wife, Y.N. She's—she's wandering the halls, calling for your son."

Aemond's heart sank. He rose abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Where is she now?" he demanded.

"The gardens, my Prince."

Without another word, Aemond left the council meeting, striding quickly through the corridors, his heart pounding.

As he approached the gardens, he could hear Y.N.'s voice, tinged with a frantic desperation.

"Aerys? Aerys, where are you, my sweet boy? Come to mummy!" she called, her voice trembling.

He found her among the flowers, her hair a wild mess, her bare feet dirty from the garden paths. She was dressed only in her nightgown, her eyes wide and searching.

She turned in circles, her hands outstretched as if she could catch hold of their son if she just reached far enough.

"Y.N.," Aemond called gently, stepping towards her. She didn't seem to hear him, her attention entirely focused on the invisible presence of Aerys.

"Come to mummy”

Aemond moved closer, reaching out to take her hand. "Y.N., it's me, Aemond. Let's go back to our chambers."

She looked at him then, her expression shifting from hope to confusion. "Aemond? But Aerys—he's calling for me. I need to find him."

He swallowed hard, his grip on her hand gentle but firm. "I know, my love. But it's time to come inside. We can look for him together later."

Tears welled up in her eyes, her panic giving way to a heartbreaking vulnerability. "I’m a good mother. I just want to find my baby."

"I know," Aemond whispered, his own eyes filling with tears. "You're the best mother. Let's go inside now, please."

Slowly, she allowed him to guide her back through the halls, her steps hesitant and reluctant. He kept a protective arm around her, his heart aching with every step.

As they reached their chambers, he helped her sit down on the bed, her fingers still clutching at his hand as if he were her lifeline.

"Rest now, Y.N.," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I’m here. I won’t leave you."

She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a flicker of recognition and trust. "Promise?"

"Promise," he said, his voice firm despite the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him.

As she lay down, Aemond sat beside her, holding her hand until she finally drifted into a troubled sleep. He watched over her, his resolve hardening. He would protect her, care for her, and love her through this madness, no matter how long it took. He had already lost his son; he could not lose his wife too.

Sometimes, Y.N. seemed to come back to herself. Her eyes would clear, and for a brief moment, the woman Aemond had loved so dearly would return.

On those rare occasions, she would look at him with a haunting clarity, her voice trembling as she asked, "Aemond, have I gone mad?"

Aemond would hold her close, his heart breaking anew each time. "No, my love. You're not mad. You're grieving. We're both grieving."

But no matter how he tried to comfort her, the moments of lucidity were fleeting. Soon enough, she would lose herself again, retreating into the depths of her sorrow and delusion.

One night, Aemond woke with a start, his heart pounding in the darkness. He reached out, but Y.N. wasn't beside him.

Panic gripped him as he looked around the room, his eyes finally settling on the open window. Y.N. stood there, her nightgown fluttering in the cool breeze, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the walls of their chamber.

"Y.N.," he called softly, rising from the bed. "What are you doing?"

She turned to him; her face illuminated by the moonlight. "I can hear Aerys," she said, her voice filled with a desperate longing. "He's calling for me. I need to go to him. I need to be a good mother."

Fear surged through Aemond as he crossed the room in quick strides, his hands reaching out to take hold of her. "No, Y.N.," he said firmly, pulling her away from the window. "Aerys is gone. You can't go to him."

She struggled against his grip, her eyes wild with grief and confusion. "But he's calling for me-can’t you hear him?”

Aemond's temper flared, the weight of his own sorrow and guilt crashing down on him. "Aerys is dead!" he shouted, his voice cracking with anguish. "He's not coming back!”

The words hung in the air, a bitter truth that neither of them could escape. Y.N. stopped struggling, her eyes widening in shock.

Aemond fell to his knees, his body wracked with sobs as he finally gave in to the overwhelming grief that had consumed him since their son's death.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands covering his face. "I'm so sorry, Y.N. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I don’t know how to stop this pain-I don’t know how to make it go away”

Y.N. knelt beside him, her own tears falling silently. She gently stroked his head, her fingers running through his long silver hair in a soothing gesture.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered, her voice fragile but filled with a deep, abiding love. "We'll find a way through this. Together."

As the war progressed, the Battle of Rook's Rest had left Aegon grievously injured.

In the aftermath, Aemond was named Prince Regent, a heavy mantle he bore with a sense of duty and an unspoken grief that never quite left him.

Yet, amid the chaos of war, there were glimmers of hope. Y.N. seemed to come back to herself a little more each day.

They had began to lay with other again, the first time since their sons death had been slow and gentle, with Aemond trying to savour the feeling of his wife’s wet heat wrapped around him again.

But as the days went on, the physical intimacy of their relationship became something more, it became a brief distraction from their shared grief and more often not, Aemond would find himself pounding inside his wife with a series of deep penetrating thrusts.

He would take any opportunity he could to be inside her, no matter if it was in their shared chambers, the gardens or even the council room.

Things seemed like they were changing, that maybe the cloud of darkness was finally lifting, that maybe there was chance.

But one day, when Aemond was deep in discussion, making plans to take back Harrenhal. The room buzzing with the urgency of war strategies a guard burst in, panic written across his face.

“Your Grace, it's Y.N. She's at the window and she won't come down."

Aemond's heart sank, dread clawing at his chest. He thought things were getting better, that they were slowly healing.

But as he raced back to his chambers, a cold fear gripped him. He should have known better. He shouldn't have fooled himself into thinking it would be that easy.

Bursting into the room, he saw Y.N. standing on the ledge of the window, her hair blowing wildly in the wind, her eyes distant and unfocused. His breath caught in his throat.

"Y.N.!" he called, trying to keep his voice steady. "Come back inside. It's dangerous."

She turned to him, her expression a mix of sorrow and resolve. "I-I’m with child again," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't want to lose this babe like we lost Aerys. I want to be a good mother, to protect my child."

Aemond took a step closer, his hands outstretched. "I will do everything in my power to ensure our child's safety. Please, Y.N., come back inside."

But her eyes darkened with a painful clarity. "Had you done that before, Aerys would still be alive. How can I trust you to keep your promise now?"

Aemond's heart broke at her words, the weight of his guilt crashing down on him. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking. "I can't lose you too. I need you."

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I can hear Aerys. He calls for me."

Before he could react, she let go of the window ledge.

Time seemed to slow as Aemond lunged forward, his scream of anguish tearing through the air. He reached out, but it was too late. Y.N. fell, her figure disappearing from sight.

Aemond's scream of horror reverberated through the chamber as he raced to the window, his heart pounding in his chest.

He looked down and saw Y.N.'s body splayed on the ground, unmoving.

He lurched back from the window, his legs carrying him faster than they ever had.

Aemond tore through the corridors, the screams of maids and ladies echoing around him as the reality of what had just happened spread like wildfire.

Bursting outside, Aemond fell to his knees beside Y.N. The blood pooling around her, spilling in different directions.

Never had he seen so much blood in his life.

His hands shook as he reached down gently, lifting her into his arms. Her warm sticky blood staining his clothes and skin.

“Y.N” sobbed Aemond.

Y.N.'s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. "I can see him, Aemond. I can see our sweet boy-he’s here"

Tears streamed down Aemond's face as he held her close, his voice breaking. "Go to him, Y.N. Be a good mother. Be with our son, he needs you"

A faint smile touched her lips as she looked up at him, her gaze softening. "I love you," she whispered, her breath faltering.

"I love you too," Aemond choked out, his heart breaking with every word.

Y.N.'s eyes closed, and with a final, shuddering breath, she passed away in his arms.

Aemond held her tightly, his body shaking with sobs as the world around him seemed to crumble. The weight of his grief and guilt was unbearable, the loss of his wife and son a wound that would never heal.

The days following Y.N.'s funeral were a descent into madness for Aemond. The raw, unhealed wound of his grief festered into something dark and malignant.

In the wake of her loss, he marched on Harrenhal, his heart consumed by rage and a desperate need for retribution. On the way many houses in the Riverlands fell to him like a storm, his soldiers cutting down anyone in their path.

Soon houses were nothing more than charred ruins, echoing with the screams of the dying and the roar of Vhagar as he laid waste to those who dared to raise their banners for Rhaenyra.

At Harrenhal, he slaughtered everyone he could find, his blade never without the stain of blood.

Alys Rivers was the only one spared, left to wander amidst the wreckage of the charred ruin she called home.

Aemond's heart was a cauldron of fury, his every action a reflection of the unrelenting torment he felt inside.

The memory of Y.N. and their son haunted him, their spectral forms appearing in his dreams and shadows, reaching out to him but slipping away before he could touch them.

Each night was a cycle of torment, their voices echoing in his ears, demanding answers he could not give.

In a desperate attempt to quell his rage and sorrow, Aemond turned to Alys. Their encounters were brutal and dispassionate, a violent outpouring of grief and anger.

He would not look upon her face as he sheathed his cock inside her, and he would not kiss her. Each time he lay with her, he was left feeling sickened, the physical act a poor substitute for the love and solace he had lost.

In his dreams, Y.N.'s spirit raged at him, her face twisted in anguish and betrayal, accusing him of infidelity and disrespect.

The final blow came when Alys revealed that she carried his child. The news was a knife to his heart, a reminder of all that he had lost and could not reclaim. In his torment, Aemond could not bear the thought of this new life, a product of his grief and anger.

In a cold, ruthless act, he had seized Alys and forced moontea down her throat, she had raged and struggled against him, but he was unmoved. His gloved hand pressed over her nose and mouth to ensure the child would never see the light of day.

He was no longer who he used to be, his heart and soul lost to the void of grief, he had become a monster and there was nothing left for him anymore.

Once she had recovered from the loss of her babe, Alys had cursed his name and he welcomed it.

Even as he mounted Vhagar, seeking a final confrontation with Daemon, and Caraxes. The two dragons clashing in a maelstrom of fire and fury, their roars shaking the heavens.

Amidst the chaos, he heard Y.N.'s voice again, softer this time, calling for him. Her voice was a haunting melody of love and loss, drawing him closer to an end he didn’t want to escape.

He reached out, feeling her ethereal touch, the blade plunging through his skull, and as the darkness closed in, he felt Y.N.'s hand in his.

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[whetstonefires]

So the thing with the Matrix for me, right, was I could never get past the assertion that the motivation for keeping humans alive was as a power source.

That pinged as so so stupid, and was presented so late and half-heartedly, that I could not understand it as a sincere part of the premise. Like. We're told very dramatically and pretty early that the world was mostly destroyed by humans 'scourging the skies' to block off all solar radiation in the effort to shut down the solar powered robots, evidently forgetting that all life on Earth is solar-powered also. Too comedically dumb to be really tragic imo.

So to pivot from the premise 'there is no life on earth, other than human beings, because the sun is gone' to 'the humans were kept alive as batteries' is an impossibility for me. Our ludicrous mammalian bodies, incredibly inefficient engines entirely reliant on continuous indirect consumption of solar energy to even survive, were somehow yielding a net output? Not only that, but one superior to nuclear or geothermal???? Bullshit.

I mean. Bull. Shit. I cannot. We just underlined in the backstory how all life on earth relies on the sun! Because life is expensive just to maintain and requires constant external energy input! We get milk from cows by keeping them alive, but that's because they turn the grass energy into something easier for us to process; no such mechanism is proposed for humans consuming dead humans and somehow producing a form of energy more useful to the Machines than just waiting for the corpses to dry out and then burning them to run a goddamn boiler.

This makes the direct opposite of sense.

It had to be in-universe propaganda, right? Another layer of the deception? It couldn't be the real reason. It was too implausible. Which meant I was still waiting to find out why the machines were really bothering with humanity and the Matrix.

I would have accepted without quibble the revelation that humans have special psychic energy that the machines were harvesting; that's dumb but in a comfortable, comprehensible, and above all internally consistent sci-fi kind of way.

I would have been quite open to the idea that the machines relied on human consciousness for their own development to true sapience, and the Matrix was primarily an AI nursery with the enmeshed human brains providing complex inputs, that one's actually cool.

There are a lot of explanations out there aside from the dumb official one, or the Occam's Razor one where they were just keeping some humans alive out of sentimentality! I'm really not that picky!

So anyway I never managed to emotionally engage with the Matrix films well because I had this unresolved 'motives of primary antagonist??? cause of fundamental scenario??????' thing making most of the actual plot twist and drama feel kind of boring.

My sister maintains that this is something wrong with me, that I'm refusing to suspend my disbelief and engage correctly with the text, and this constitutes a hostile, bad-faith and therefore illegitimate reading.

(She hasn't actually said this last part and I'd respect her position more if she did, but this seems to be the broad thrust of her emotional position when she starts shouting.)

I maintain that if a central plank of your sci-fi premise relies on going 'fuck the basic principles of thermodynamics and biology this is a vibes-based system' you should be very careful to avoid invoking the relationship between basic thermodynamics and biology in your core worldbuilding.

[rntoshi]

— isagi yoichi (n): the unintentional fuck boy.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏/ • yoichi is pro, all characters are adults.

no one would ever think to associate the term “fuck boy” to the heart of gold that is isagi yoichi. the blue eyed ravenette comes across as such a sweetheart when people first meet him. a bit hardheaded if you really know him, but a sweetheart, nonetheless. there's so much passion and drive behind his eyes that it's charming— alluring to the hopeless romantic type for the fact that they like to daydream about what could be. anyone could get lost in a fantasy about being swept off their feet by a pretty face like isagi, he makes it effortless really. golden retriever energy is what you would call it. it's why he's so popular with women, he comes across as this boy next door who’s so willing to do anything to achieve a goal he has set in his heart. that's the image he's painted for himself in the public eye, and not that it's inaccurate: it just simply doesn't translate well into his love life.

one of his issues is... isagi doesn't realize just how attractive he is. as it's been said before, he's himbo adjacent. the attention he gets... he sums it up as getting “lucky.” his friendliness can be perceived as flirting, even more so that he doesn't take into account that he's one of the hottest players in the blue lock program. his gorgeous face and his athletic but lean physique make him physically attractive but it's also the mannerisms he possesses as well. little things like being the type to place a gentle hand on the small of your back if he's trying to walk past you in a crowded area. a polite “excuse me, I'm sorry.” leave his lips and the prettiest smile when you two make eye contact lingers just a second too long. or the crease between his brows when he's frustrated or tired— running both hands through his hair which exposes his forehead. it.

he never intends to, but he can't help but to well... get cold feet after the climax of one of his newfound “flings.” once the initial excitement has passed, it's not as appealing for him anymore but there's a reason for this. it's his post nut clarity that gets him every time. that immediate clear mindedness or soberness a guy gains after blowing his load. lying in bed with a girl as she talks about their future— the pillow talk goes well until the plans she proposes clash with his career. isagi has a tendency to equate entertaining the thought of a relationship as him putting priority towards just that, and not his real passion. it's just that isagi is at a point in his career where... nothing will ever amount to how important his job is to him. he's dedicated so much time and effort to get to the point where he is now. its time consuming and mind plaguing, it's the long-lasting effects that blue lock has had on him throughout the years. it's built an insane work ethic and need to crave more. nothing can or will get in the way of him and his vision. it's a curse all athletes have and unfortunately isagi yoichi, our sweet mc, is not an exception. it probably affects him the worse, really.

these girls he gets involved with always seem to have a trend of leaving feminine items in his gym bag. thongs, bras, hair scrunchies and even jewelry in hopes of isagi returning them. some girls do it for his attention and others do it because they want to plant this seed that isagi is “seeing” them. the paparazzi can catch anything and will often seek for certain shots if they're tipped off.

it's kind of funny because out of everyone, raichi is the one who discovers isagi is a bit of a whore. it's a regular day at practice when all the boys were in the locker room getting themselves situated before hitting the field. isagi is sitting on the bench when he pulls out his cleats, and in the process a hot pink thong falls on the floor beside raichi's feet where he foot only a couple feet away. of course, blondie gives isagi a hard time about it.

“tch, you still seein' that one brunette, huh? she your girl yet?” raichi picks up the pair of panties, leaning against the locker with a smug smile twirling the skimpy garment around his pointer finger before sling shotting it back to isagi.

“hah.. no.” isagi lets out a small, breathy chuckle as he catches the underwear. he's a little embarrassed but it's nothing he's not used to. “i met someone else. she's a sweet girl though.”

“the hell are you talkin' about? you were just screwing this other chick last monday.” raichi raises a brow as he straightens his posture, only now realizing why isagi never said a specific name. it's because they were all different girls. ha, that's rich.

“ah.. well yeah.” isagi gives a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck before he shoves the panties back into his bag, in a smaller and more discreet pocket. raichi only shakes his head before turning around back to his locker.

“it's always the humble ones.” raichi mumbles to himself.

yoichi finds himself puzzled at how often these kinds of things end up in his possession at the most inconvenient times but he never thinks too deeply about it. his indifference to the situation makes them want to chase him even harder. do even more outlandish things to get his attention when his tunnel vision is impossible to break.

he routinely goes to the gym after these one-night stands. it’s like a detox but for his mind, cleansing it of all the diluted thoughts that fogged his vision. it's almost like his own form of meditation.

there’s something so hot about isagi working out after a hookup. it's the post sex glow he has, the thin layer of sweat on his body, the determined look in his eye as he pushes himself past his usual limits. his cock is semi hard in his sweats from his endorphins, creating a prominent print under the gym's harsh lighting. he feels like a brand-new man after. refreshed and ready for the next fight on the field.

isagi is sweet! he really is! he doesn't like making girls cry. but he can't help that he's awful at texting back or returning calls. yoichi just forgets, getting too caught up in practice, games and press conferences.

it's not all isagi's fault though, because he is such sweetheart and can come across as a little manipulative, women often think they can take advantage of securing a marriage with a professional athlete. most are in for a rude awakening when their plans fall short while others simply pick up on the behavior and more onto the next team with the next player.

it won't be like this forever though. i believe this version of isagi is the kind of guy to realize he's fallen in love with his childhood best friend. isagi is known to be extremely loyal so any relationships that have already been established are taken quite seriously by him. you were that sweet girl who lived next door to him for years. you always had cute band aids for when he scraped his knees and yummy snack to share after school. you weren't very athletic, but you always cheered for him even during his loses. you were also one of his biggest support systems when he was going through the blue lock programs. you've always been an anchor in his life and it's something he doesn't realize until you two lose contact for a couple years.

it's funny how things work out too because it just so happens that you two visit home around the same time. when he sees you in your mother's flower garden you had only gotten prettier. you're wearing a flowy sundress and a sunhat; he thinks it's so cute— refreshing to see in contrast to the girls that usually approach him. there's a moment where you finally lock eyes with him, and it makes his tummy drop.

and he realizes he's in love.

© rntoshi 2023. do not modify or repost.

[00127am]

@ barkingatthemoon best friend! liu yangyang x gn! reader, about sickeningly sweet love confessions, friends to lovers, kissing, lower-case intended word count 2k

💿 now playing ... harvey by hers

"wanna date?"

it's a question poised in the lull of your favorite song, asked within half of a beat before it's drowned out by the rhythmic thrum of the lyrics and consumed by the canary-esque tone of the vocalist. a tone which has nothing on you, voice sweet and even, every word framed with the melodic waver in your pitch. and when you propose this question, head dangling off the edge of your mattress, that ever-so-pretty voice of yours is nothing but nonchalant. as if you had just asked the time.

from your upside down world, there's a tingling feeling which races from the stretch of your abdomen to your nostrils, forcing you to blink fast and swallow hard. your nose twitches, scrunching and relaxing in a poor attempt to relieve itself of the buzzing sensation. but it doesn't seem to make any semblance of a difference. instead, it begins to throb in the top of your temple, pressing down against the walls of your cranium as if they might very well break down. you're not quite sure if it's the silence from your best friend or your position that's making it hard to swallow, but you don't think that the cause exactly matters at the end all be all.

you watch him with doe eyes, lashes fluttering against your cheeks only to be stuck in the arch of your brows as you blink back at him. you can feel your face getting hot, a blush burning at your cheeks and searing the tips of your ears. this reaction, without a doubt, is from him. not being upside down. not the silence. just yangyang, puffy lips parted and eyes wide.

he blinks obliviously at you, tongue hesitating at the back of his teeth, and you begin to wonder if he had ever heard you in the first place. so you open your mouth to say it again, lips just barely pursed in into the beginnings of a consonant before he's waving you off. "i heard you the first time,"

unlike the songbird singer of your favorite song and unlike you, yangyang's voice is caught in between something strained (tone low and rough as if it has been dragged upon gravel) and hesitant (yet you're not quite sure if you could describe it as that, not with the way that each ending syllable seemed to rush after one another). in all iterations of his voice, this is one that you like least of all. it tells of an oncoming rejection, the thought process of finding just the right words to let you down.

"ah," you're less casual this time, words stuck in the back of your throat, "is that a no?"

"what?"

"i'm asking if you're rejecting me," you clarify, finally unable to take the rush to your head as you sit upright, "my confession,"

he leans forward and if you weren't so preoccupied with picking yourself up, perhaps you would have been flustered by the lack of distance (though you guess that personal space has never been a forte of yangyangs). he raises a finger in the air, gesturing in circles as if to rewind to your previous words. "that was a confession?"

"what else would it be?" the sudden surge of movement forces you to clench your eyes shut, pressure mounting up behind them as if it might spill out with tears. it takes a couple moments of blinking before your vision returns to normal, accompanied by a faint ringing in your ears. "anyway, i thought you knew,"

yangyang sputters for words, blonde hair falling onto his face in a manner that really doesn't help you keep your composure. he shoots you an incredulous look, eyebrows arched and jaw nearly touching the floor. he brings a hand to his chest, tapping as he speaks, as if he couldn't believe that he's the crush in mention. "knew that you're into me?"

"yes," your tone is bordering the line between a twinge of embarrassment and the foundation of irritation that's bubbling at the back of your throat, "i've been making it pretty obvious,"

"not obvious enough," he grumbles, spoken under his breath as he brings a hand to scratch at the bridge of his nose--looking everywhere but your eyes, narrowed in on him with something more akin to a glare than a glance.

you huff, rolling your eyes as you lean onto your arms, flicking him on the forehead with a force much to harsh to be anything lesser than aggravation. "next time i'll make sure to get on one knee to propose so it's obvious enough for you,"

he swats your hand away, pouting as he nurses his forehead. his discomfort evokes a laugh on your part, lips twitching upwards from their previous position held in the beginnings of a sneer. you can never stay annoyed at him, not when he looks like that. an expression that screams pathetic in every way but overt words as he looks up at you. his bottom lip is caught in his teeth and his next words are spoken within a silver of a breathe--desperate and urgent.

"yes, i do. so, so badly"

it's a statement spoken in the middle of one of your songs, tone so gentle that it was almost drowned out by the steady beat of the instrumental. so quiet, that you're tempted to ask him to repeat it--partially to make sure that you really did hear him correctly but mostly because you just want to hear him say it one more time. there's no question about what he's responding too, voice completely consumed by a honey, lovesick lilt. one that you find far superior to any intonation used by your songbird singer or any emphasis that falls from your own throat. an inflection that you will revisit, over and over and over again until any and all accuracy of the memory is lost.

"ok,"

"ok?"

"ok," you repeat, lips quirking into a teasing smile (one he knows all too well, one that sticks to his skin and haunts him with every waking moment--god, he can't get you out of his mind), "what? you disappointed or something?"

he's quick to clarify, rebutting with a dirty look, "no. i just...i don't know. not very romantic was it?"

"ouch," you wince back in faux pain, holding a hand to your heart with a dramatic drawl, "should i have bought flowers?"

"yes, sure, whatever," he acknowledges your quip only to ignore it, spitting out an agreement as quick as he can in order to get to his next phrase. so rushed that you're fifty percent positive that he didn't even hear what you said, "can i kiss you?"

his question makes you reel, feeling dizzy as the words are punctuated with a look from him that's a hair away from begging. and oh god, you feel like you're going to faint. maybe you're still feeling the aftereffects of your head rush. one look at him says otherwise.

"do you even have to ask?" your lips curve into a smile as you answer. a smile that makes his hands curl into tight fists, knuckles burning a bleach white. he's one hundred percent sure that if he doesn't kiss you right now, then he'll explode. though, it doesn't exactly matter in the grand scheme of things as he thinks that he'll reach the same end when he actually does.

and that's certainly what it feels like as yangyang leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. one that he ends only to begin another, more assured and slightly less gentle, less featherlight. he sighs when he kisses you, as if he's been holding back that same sigh since he met you. one only to be relieved by a kiss he has always so desperately craved. he kisses you urgently, like he's making up for lost time. a pacing and utter adoration that makes your head spin, butterflies fluttering in your stomach only to emerge from your throat in the form of a quiet whine. a noise that has yangyang practically lunging on top of you, hands coming up to hold your face. slender fingers sliding up your cheekbones and resting before your ears, fingernails knotted in the edges of your hair. and then he's pulling away, smushing messy, lingering kisses all over your face.

his lips are everywhere, on the full of your cheeks and the space beneath the arch of your brow. the corner of your mouth and your chin, your forehead and eyelid. chest against chest, his heartbeat hammering so loudly that you wouldn't be surprised if it leapt straight out.

"maybe we should have skipped the confession part and went straight to this," your words are hummed against his face, eyes fluttering somewhere between open and shut as he lines kisses down the angle of your jaw. your arms coming to hang around his shoulders, "might have saved you from my unromantic confession,"

you can feel him grin against you and you know a teasing comment isn't too far behind. "i wish we did. that was the worst confession i've ever received,"

he makes his way back to your lips, pressing soft kisses to the corners before capturing your lips once more. this time, you lead, pulling him ever-so-slightly closer as you take his bottom lip in between your teeth. you nip playfully, soothing over your bite with a passive, lazy drag of your tongue. a feeling that evokes a groan from your counterpart, fingertips digging into the flesh of your face.

"should i take it back then?" it's muttered against his lips, each word spoken between kisses that have his knees buckling, "the worst confession you've ever received, that is,"

yangyang scoffs, words slurred and spoken in the middle of a kiss. "you can't take it back,"

you laugh, a pretty sound that has his ears ringing. one that starts in the back of your throat and ends up bubbling in his, before it's interrupted with a whiny whimper as you pull away. a reaction that nearly has all the blood in your body rushing to your head. you're not sure that sitting up could fix the sensations this time.

instead, you bring a finger to trace along the expanse of his neck. fingernail grazing against his adams apple (which bobs when he swallows, hard, at the feeling of your touch--an action accompanied a slight shiver and unsteady inhale). you continue your journey upwards until you're skimming the curve where his throat meets his chin. and there you hesitate, before flicking your finger harshly upwards. "can't i?"

despite the way in which his face is forced upwards by the motion of your hand, yangyang's eyes never leave yours. they're half-lidded, eyelids drooping down like he's drunk. lips are a vermillion red, puffy and swollen. a small line of spit stuck between the top and bottom and you can't be sure whether that's his or yours. all you do know is that if he keeps looking at you like that, you might just drop dead. they say looks can kill, after all.

"no," he replies, voice hoarse and eyes drawn in soft crescents "it's too late. we're dating, aren't we? you said ok,"

you huff out a whisper of a laugh, expression darting into a grin that you just can't hold back. one that practically threatens to split your face in two as you undertake a teasing lilt. "only because you looked so pathetic when you agreed,"

he wrinkles his nose at your words, toying with a lopsided smile that makes your heart flip. "if that's what it takes for you to date me then i'll look pathetic all you want,"

"i don't think you'll have to try any harder than usual in that endeavor," you remark, shutting your eyes as you lean back onto your palms, "in fact, i'd say that--"

but you're cut off with a kiss, then another, and another, and another. until you've all but forgotten about rescinding your confession, or what you were going to say about him. and the only thing you can think about is him. not that that is anything out of the norm.

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @yangasm thank you for all your support and love! &lt;3

🗯️ i love yangyang so much guys TᴖT i don't even think this is written well because i wrote it so rushed, all in one sitting, because i just needed to get this out of my system. there's something so lovely to me about mundane, realistic confessions and banter that i can't help but think about them all the time. writing this made me all fuzzy and i hope it does the same for you all! ♡

[feuilletonette]

Bridgerton S3, they could never make me hate you.

I had been consuming a lot of contents albeit very much revolves around these two darlings, Penelope and Colin. I just couldn't get enough. I was simply never the same after Polin. Never.

It had been pressing weeks when I felt the shed of my old skin upon the compounding insinuations of loss affection toward men of haunting past. In which with all their might would do everything to sabotage the relationship, to run screaming and crying and throwing up to absolutely defy these insurmountable feelings, one could label within the word, love. Until they are utterly consumed by these thoughts and overwhelming need to express such affections where the only way to ever cope results to angry, passionate confessions of love.

I am wild to witness the stark difference of how we see Colin did none of those things because in my conclusion, he wasn't as emotionally constipated and the first three leads and it is such a refreshing medium to see without ever actually stripping him flat. That is what I want: a tender, loving, down bad softboy declaring that if his purpose was to love a woman as great as me, then he shall be a very fulfilled man, indeed.

The argument that he didn't say the 'I love you' enough debate was, in surface, quite understandable but if you start to analyse closely, after the proposal, almost every interactions he's had revolved around finding an opportunity to express his love and admiration to/for Penelope, especially in his conversation with his siblings.

He didn't need to scream his confession, he'd been attuned and embracing it (enthusiastically so) once realised, that is why he was never repulsed of having to speak of it the first place! In fact, he even actively communicates it in the most beautiful way possible.

He sought advice from Violet, followed Anthony straight away when he told him that he should tell her he loves her. Listen to Kate's marital advice. He's open, he's receiving help, he's trying to process his hurt and overcoming his triggers. He's learning to do better but it wasn't perfect. He made mistakes along the way but eventually led him to the path of acceptance.

He wanted to love her better, despite of and in spite of. Colin had always been introspective so when he had discovered the root of his actions, he gathered up the courage to be vulnerable and admit it to Penelope. That he was feeling envious because he never truly felt good enough. But this was recieve to be affirmed of his inherent worth. The thing I love about this couple is that they felt so human and that propelled them to move past such damaging beliefs of themselves to do better.

Don't even get me started with Penelope, I could make dissertations of how well she was written for all anyone could care. Miss girl is ambitious, I love how her mental glow-up was able to comply how well her physical glow-up was executed also. In the end, she needn't to choose between herself and the man she loves.

She can be both independent and cherished by a man, a man who constantly worked on himself because she mattered more than his ego. She may have wavered after various discouragement and she had tried, so so hard to give up her success but she couldn't. Whistledown is something she wouldn't compromise as it would mean betraying a part of herself. So I was glad that upon fighting for it, the people around her soon realised that this is something they could not deny and something they should fight with her not off of her. I'm glad that the show was able to depict that Penelope could have both. Being a succesful, career-driven woman should not cost you your love, or at least the right one. And it's a powerful message to have.

I also love this passage of weilding her power into more productive causes such as giving voice to the voicless. I hope we see more of it for the upcoming season.

Though, of course it's not perfect, with pacing issues and subplots with purpose I had hard time figuring. But if there's one thing I couldn't stress enough, season 3 has so much depth and I was very glad to dive upon the narrowest trenches of it.

It was so beautifully done and that is why I also stand that Polin have the strongest foundation so far as they navigate their biggest block and be the best versions of themselves together, and occasionally, with the help of one another.

P.S I am only talking about the show Polin, I hated the book, but I suppose this would be for another post.

[elizaleclerc]

How I love your writing so much! 😭 I saw that you are taking requests / ideas so maybe something of Charles x famous singer reader where they break up and everyone kinda thinks he broke up with reader or it was just a mutual breakup but then reader comes out with a song similar to midnight rain by Taylor swift and ppl piece the pieces together + the lyrics and kinda realize that Charles proposed and reader said no. Just something angsty and with Charles and reader they tried remaining friends but obvi are still in love with reader just isn’t ready for such a commitment. Thank you and love u 😭

tysm for this amazing request xoxo

float in your orbit 🪐

charles leclerc x reader

summary: famous fem singer!reader releases music about her surprising breakup with long term partner charles leclerc

songs: i can do it with a broken heart by t.swift , this is me trying by t.swift , wildflower by b.eilish , champagne problems by t.swift , chloe or sam or sophia or marcus by t.swift :)

author's note: ahhhh my first request!!!! the topic is right up my alley i love love love it. hope u love it too <3 plenty of angst ahead for u x

word count: 2k

With a heavy heart, your fingers traced the same piano note over and over again. The sound was monotonous, a stark contrast to the busy and lively world of your recent world tour. Now, back in your New York City apartment, life seemed dull and uneventful. It was even more glum now that you were alone, with no one to share your thoughts and experiences with.

You sat hunched over the piano, staring at the black and white keys in front of you. Your eyes had a distant glare, as if lost in a deep and melancholic reverie. The city sounds outside seemed muted and far away, as your mind was stuck on pause. Every memory felt like it was on repeat, playing over and over again.

In this moment of isolation, all you could do was sit and reflect on the ups and downs of your career, the highs and lows of fame. The emptiness inside seemed to grow with each passing moment, until it consumed your whole being. You were trapped in a bubble of loneliness, yearning for human connection but unable to break free from the walls surrounding you.

Charles had been your partner for five years. When you were first rising to stardom in the music world, you received an invitation to perform the national anthem at a prestigious Formula One race. As you stood on the track, your heart pounding with nerves and excitement, you caught sight of Charles, one of the esteemed drivers. The connection between you was immediate, a spark of recognition and attraction that lit up the air around you like fireworks. In that moment, you knew that love at first sight wasn't just an empty phrase, but a tangible reality. You could feel it deep within your bones, a warmth spreading through your body that told you this was meant to be.

A deep ache, like a heavy weight, settled in your chest as silent tears fell down your cheek. The emotions swirled and collided inside of you - sadness, hurt, anger, and betrayal all jostling for dominance. Despite both of your chaotic schedules, especially with your tour this year, you had always made sure to prioritize spending time together whenever possible. But during the last month of your tour is when things fell apart.

It was like a sudden storm had swept in, tearing down everything you thought was stable and secure. At first, it was hard to even process what was happening. The shock and confusion were overwhelming, making it difficult to make sense of the situation. But as time passed, the anger and betrayal only grew stronger, raging like a wildfire inside of you. You released a new song two weeks after the split, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart. 

The media went into a frenzy. Fans from both you and Charles speculated on the recent events, but the lyrics in the song were simple and undeniable - Charles had ended things with you. You couldn't help but worry about the hate he must've been receiving, especially since the two of you hadn't spoken since the night everything fell apart. And to add onto the chaos, you still had a tour to finish, forcing a smile and putting on a brave face for the fans that had no idea of the turmoil within.

Being on tour was a necessary distraction, a way to keep your mind off of things. Yet as you lay in yet another unfamiliar hotel room, the same thoughts still haunted you. The rooms all looked different, but they were all characterized by the same sterile and impersonal feeling. The only thing that used to make them feel like home was the sound of Charles' voice on the phone. You would talk for hours, often until you drifted off to sleep, so even though you were physically alone, you never felt truly lonely.

Despite releasing a new single, the public still didn't have the full story of what happened between the two of you, and why you had broken up. With Charles choosing to remain silent in the media, you were left to navigate through it all on your own. It was a daunting task, trying to piece together your relationship and figure out where it went wrong without any input from him. But you refused to let his silence define your story.

Throughout your life, anxiety had been a constant shadow, lurking around every corner and following you wherever you went. It wasn't until a year ago that you finally sought help and medication for it. During this time of struggle, Charles was your unwavering rock, always there to hold you up and support you. Relationships in general were uncharted territory for you when you first met Charles, and the unknown of it all scared you most.

But as the months went by, he became your confidant, someone with whom you could share your deepest worries and fears during those late night conversations. He would listen with patience and understanding, easing your anxieties with his calm presence.

Yet when fate intervened and pushed him away from you, he was not as accommodating as you had hoped. You couldn't blame him entirely, but the void left by his absence consumed you more with each passing day. In an attempt to express all that you felt and lost, you turned to your songs as a means of communication – letting the lyrics speak for your heartache and longing.

In your next release, an EP of four songs would be put out into the world, the lyrics explaining everything. In the week after the release, fans had put all of the pieces of the puzzle together. You spent the hours scouring social media reading the analysis of your relationship, all of it correct but nevertheless heartbreaking. 

~

One particular post analyzed the meaning of the four songs perfectly:

this is me trying: This song is the beginning of the end. Y/N is clearly struggling mentally and is pleading to be understood that they are simply doing the best that they can do. It is a desperate call for affection and is riddled with self doubt. After such a long relationship, Charles could have begun to crack, and Y/N is trying to keep it all together. 

wildflower: This is clearly about Charles’s past girlfriend. He dated her for many years, and was speculated to be one of Y/N’s friends. The lyrics depict her struggling to get past the thought that Charles is actually over his old girlfriend, and she feels terrible about “betraying” her to date Charles. Further in the song the lyrics showcase that Charles clearly loves Y/N, but again her internal battle prohibits her from seeing the truth in their relationship as things seem to break further. 

champagne problems: This is the breaking point. Shocking to fans everywhere, this song reveals that Charles proposed to Y/N, but due to her already detailed mental struggles and anxieties, the commitment was too much for her to bear. The melody and lyrics are filled with regret and a tinge of shame for not being able to commit to Charles, no matter how much she loved him and vice versa. 

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: The aftermath of it all, she details that even though she cannot commit to marriage with Charles she still loves him deeply and wishes that they could still be together. This caused fans to piece together that after she said no to the proposal, Charles ultimately cut things off.

~

With misty eyes, you read the post that brought back a flood of memories. The night he proposed in Monaco, the city where your love had blossomed and thrived, was etched in your mind with crystal clarity. In your shared apartment, tucked away from the bustling streets, the two of you had a private and intimate dinner that would change your lives forever. Warm flickering candles cast a soft glow over the dining room, while rose petals adorned the table and floor.

Despite being in the comfort of your own home, you both dressed to impress, savoring this rare moment when it was just the two of you. "You look absolutely stunning, mon chéri," he whispered as he gazed at you with adoration, making you feel like the most special woman on Earth. Every detail of that night was ingrained in your heart and soul, a cherished memory that would never fade.

Your hand rested on the white tablecloth, and he gently placed his on top. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through your body. "Thank you, love," you murmured before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand. As the night went on, you caught up on each other's lives - him excitedly sharing about his latest Formula One race while you reminisced about your past tour experiences. But as the dinner neared its end, you noticed his fidgeting and asked him if he was okay. Suddenly, he stood up from his chair and sunk down on one knee next to you. Your heart skipped a beat, and everything seemed to slow down as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“Mon amour, I don’t want to spend another day without calling you my wife. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I want to spend the rest of it loving you and giving you the world. Will you marry me?” 

Your throat constricted as sweat formed on your palms. The words caught in your throat, refusing to come out. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen - not here, not now. Marriage was never a topic of conversation between you and Charles, but suddenly it felt like an inevitable future staring you in the face at this dinner table. You weren't ready for this.

“I don’t- I can’t-” 

~

Your fingers moved deftly across the ivory keys of your piano, playing the familiar beginning chords of "Champagne Problems." Tears continued to fall down your cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake. Memories flooded your mind as you played, memories of a love once strong and unbreakable.

But now, as you sat alone in the dimly lit room, you couldn't help but feel the weight of that love slipping away. You missed him with every fiber of your being. You yearned for his cheeky smile and the way his crystal eyes sparkled when he looked at you. The memory of his messy bed head first thing in the morning made you ache with longing.

The thought of living without him was unbearable. You longed for his laughter, how he would throw his head back and let out a hearty sound that always filled you with joy. You could almost see his nose crinkle in amusement at a bad joke, just as it always did.

And oh, how you missed those moments when he would wear his glasses, simply because he knew how much you loved the way he looked in them. You could picture him now, standing before you with that charming grin and those frames perched on his nose.

But now they were only memories, and you were left to play out this heartache through the melody of your piano.

The realization hit like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you. You couldn't fathom the idea of moving on from this moment, it was too pivotal, too raw. With a sudden surge of energy, you leapt up from your seat at the piano and frantically searched for your phone among the scattered sheet music and empty coffee cups. Your fingers flew over the keys as you dialed the number you knew by heart, each digit a familiar melody in your mind.

One ring, and he picked up.