#nothing overtly romantic

[carewyncromwell]

“Long ago -- it feels so long ago... How young and innocent we were!”

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // brief reference to Cato Reese @catohphm

x~x~x~x

After they met as teenagers, Orion Amari stayed in contact with Carewyn Cromwell through letters, even after she’d moved out of the Country of Spades and started university in the Kingdom of Hearts. They likewise continued to stay in touch after Orion moved into the Palace of Clubs as King, not long after Carewyn left Spades. It was a transition that Carewyn had offered sincere emotional support for --

It is a great honor that you were chosen...but I can only imagine how much that honor and responsibility must weigh on you. To have so many people relying on you -- so many lives, and so many futures...it’s a heavy burden for anyone to bear, and yet you’ve been asked to shoulder it all the same. Even though it’s heavy, though, I know you wouldn’t have been chosen if people didn’t have faith you could succeed in carrying it and in being a great King. And truly, I don’t think the Land of Clubs could be represented by a gentler or wiser man. 

Letters like this always gave Orion a much-needed shot of courage. 

After discovering Lane Cromwell in a hospital in Clubs, Orion knew he could very easily just write a letter to his friend, informing her of her mother’s safe arrival at his court. Given the severity of the situation, however, he thought it’d be best to cut out the “middleman” that was the postal system and go tell her himself. If nothing else, Carewyn might want to drop everything to travel to the Land of Clubs to see her mother -- if she did, Orion was perfectly willing to let her accompany him back. If nothing else, it would be good to see her in person again, after five long years of nothing but letter-writing.

And so Orion requested a formal audience with the King and Queen of Hearts, so as to have a proper excuse to visit their Kingdom. Fortunately the request was accepted quickly by Queen Rosalie, and Orion left Clubs in a coach attached to eight bright white Abraxan winged horses that very day. 

Orion found the Palace of Hearts to be rather akin to a Faberge Egg -- overly decorative and glitzy, to the point that its intricacy and exorbitant amount of jewels made you contemplate the size of both the owner’s pocketbook and ego, and yet also beautiful in its craftsmanship and oddly charming in its feel. There was a bizarre kind of sheltered innocence in this place that nonetheless was hundreds of years old -- a privilege that cushioned all those inside of it, romanticizing the Kingdom’s heritage and glamorizing its wealth and prestige. 

A cage of gold and glass, rather than carved wood and marble, Orion thought rather dryly to himself.

The King of Clubs was greeted by the royal steward in the castle foyer, who escorted him down the hall and up the stairs.

“His Majesty the King requested you meet him in his study, up on the third floor,” the freckled steward explained quickly, his voice coming out as rather pompous despite his polite smile. “This way, please.” 

Orion wasn’t put-off by the change of venue. As much as he enjoyed drinking tea and conversing with like-minded people, his chief aim in coming to Hearts was to visit the university and seek an audience with Carewyn. As much as he felt he should also update the rulers of Hearts about the state of things in Spades and gauge how much they themselves might want to get involved, he had not planned to linger, and if the King of Hearts was in his study, that insinuated that he was similarly inclined to keep this meeting short and sweet. 

When Orion arrived in the King’s study, he found King Declan hard at work at his desk, looking through a pile of paperwork. Standing at the King’s side was a rather pretty woman dressed in a modest pink gown trimmed with lace -- her long ginger hair fell into her face as she bent over the desk to look at the documents too, pointing at certain sections.

“...room in the budget. Even if everything ends up being exactly how it’s listed here, it leaves us no room for unexpected expenses.”

“That’s true,” granted Declan, “but some of these expenses are ones we can’t skimp on. There are high expectations placed upon the Palace of Hearts -- a certain level of quality must be produced, and sadly, the best way to ensure that, a lot of the time, is by investing the proper funds.”

“Another way could be investing in the proper person,” the young woman argued. “Someone with both talent and the integrity not to price gouge. Or even just investing anonymously -- would there be a way to make these purchases without the sellers knowing it’s the Crown that’s making them?”

The woman’s voice...there was something so familiar, about her speaking cadence -- her passionate confidence...

Orion tilted his head, trying to get a better look at her face. Just as he did, though, the steward in front of him cleared his throat.

“Your Majesty! Your Highness,” he said stiffly. “Forgive me for interrupting...”

Both Declan and the young woman looked up. When Orion met her gaze, the two both straightened up immediately.

It had been five years -- yet Orion would know those almond-shaped blue eyes anywhere. 

“Orion?” breathed Carewyn.

Orion felt like his limbs had turned to stone, and yet his lips spread into such a relieved smile, at the sight of her. 

“...Carewyn Cromwell...”

Carewyn’s blue eyes were positively glowing as she swept across the room, right up to Orion. She brought her arms up and around his neck, enveloping him in a warm embrace.

“Orion!” she cried, more delighted than ever. 

Not being used to receiving physical affection, the King of Clubs didn’t respond immediately. Even so, as he brought a hand tentatively up to rest on the crest of Carewyn’s back and closed his eyes, his touch and smile were gentle and fond. 

“Orion -- I can’t believe it -- ” said Carewyn. 

She pulled back enough to get a better look at him, her face alight with joyful disbelief. Her eyes ran over his green and gold-trimmed robes, the green-and-gold woven crown resting on his temple, and then up along his bearded jawline. 

“You look...different.”

Orion smiled. “As do you. Only on the outside, however -- from your eyes, I can see your heart is the same.”

Even while saying this, the King of Clubs couldn’t keep his eyes from trailing along the long ginger hair cascading down her shoulder. And twinkling like green stars through her hair...

Orion’s heart gave a light leap of surprise, before warming fully. 

She was wearing his earrings. 

“And you certainly sound the same,” said Carewyn, beaming. “Just as you always have...”

This knowledge clearly comforted her. The fondness in her voice made Orion’s expression soften that bit more. 

“I must say, I’m perplexed,” said Orion, his black eyes sparkling with wry amusement. “I had hoped to see you while I was here, but I’d thought to do it at your university, after I visited the Palace. And yet here I am, at the Palace, thoroughly intending to see the King of Hearts -- and here you are.”

“Well, you can still see me, King Orion, if you so desire.”

The two looked up at Declan, who had reclined somewhat in his chair, his arms crossed and his lips upturned in a very wry smile.

“You didn’t mention that you knew the King of Clubs, Carewyn,” he said, cocking an eyebrow with interest.

Carewyn looked down, suddenly uncomfortable. “...I guess it hadn’t come up. We met in the Country of Spades, when we were young...”

“Well, I suppose that forestalls the formal introductions, then,” said Declan. 

He looked up at Orion with a smile. 

“I must apologize, King Orion, for meeting you here, as opposed to a more social setting -- Rosalie had intended to entertain you in one of her sitting rooms until I could come and meet you both, but she’s feeling unwell today, so the nurses proposed she stay confined to her bed for the interim.”

Orion’s eyes gained a more solemn glint. “That’s most unfortunate...I do hope your Queen’s condition is not serious?”

“Serious, but manageable,” Declan said, nodding in muted gratitude for Orion’s concern. “It makes it uncomfortable for her to move...fortunately our new Princess has been very helpful, in helping her Majesty with her duties while consigned to bed rest,” he added, indicating Carewyn with a small smile.

Carewyn bowed her head respectfully. “It’s my pleasure, King Declan.”

She glanced at Orion, to find him already studying her. His gaze was very unreadable, but there was a muted realization glinting at the back of it.

“...You’ve been named as Queen Rosalie’s successor,” he murmured.

Carewyn avoided Orion’s eye. “...Yes. A week ago.”

“Both Rosalie and I thought it’d be best if Carewyn got some formal training at court before taking on the responsibility of queenship,” Declan explained. “I’ll be doing the same with my successor, when the time comes.”

“I see...”

Orion noted how uncomfortable Carewyn’s posture became as she turned away, her gaze shifting out the window. It made his lips knit together a bit more tightly, even as his face remained largely placid. 

“...King Declan, you have quite a lot of work to complete here, do you not?”

Declan cocked his eyebrows. 

“Well, as you know, a King’s work is never truly done,” he said amusedly. 

“Verily,” granted Orion with a small, restrained smile. “But the original intention was for me to be properly ‘entertained’ until you had finished dealing with the matters of the day. And since Queen Rosalie is unable to ‘entertain me’ the way she wished...perhaps I might persuade her Highness to do so, in her stead? It would be good practice, I should think.”

Carewyn looked up at Orion in surprise, to see a strange glint dancing through his eyes -- something almost pointed. Declan raised his eyebrows at Carewyn, his lips spread into a wry smile of his own.

“Perhaps,” said Declan. “But only if Princess Carewyn would be comfortable with the arrangement.”

Carewyn glanced from Declan to Orion. Then, bringing a hand through her hair, she gave a light huff. 

“I would say that at the courts of kings, duty often comes before comfort,” she said in a faintly haughty-sounding voice. 

Despite this, her red lips were teased with a small, almost shyer smile as she walked over to Orion and rested a hand on his arm. 

“Come on -- I’ll show you the gardens.”

x~x~x~x

Carewyn walked with Orion out into the gardens. They were both painfully aware of the servants and courtiers roaming through the castle halls, so they spoke formally in case anyone overheard. This didn’t mean that Carewyn and Orion didn’t engage in witty banter some of the time. 

“And here we have the Louis-Phillipe Wing -- home of every court portrait commissioned in the last thousand years. Except the burned ones of the Mad Queen Judith, King Charles, and the Knave of Hearts...but I don’t think those really fit the overall ‘look’ the court was going for.”

“The charred frames would probably be a bit jarring, in a setting that so relishes cosmetic beauty.”

Orion relaxed significantly once they’d gotten outside. Even so, he noticed that Carewyn’s posture stayed very straight, and he held his tongue as she walked through the royal gardens, away from the castle windows and past the hedge maze.

“There are lovely flowers here,” he commented. His eyes were drawn to the bushes of pink roses planted along the path.

Carewyn smiled. “Yes...I always imagined that all of the roses would be red, after the stories I grew up hearing about the Mad Queen Judith. I’m glad Queen Rosalie planted some different colors.”

“I must confess, I never understood Queen Judith’s disdain for white roses,” said Orion lightly. 

“Neither do I,” Carewyn agreed. “I think they’re beautiful.”

“Yes -- and far more sincere in intent, as well,” said Orion. 

Carewyn raised her eyebrows, interested. 

“Many believe red roses stand for ‘true love,’ but in truth, they’re symbolic of passion -- desire -- beauty and romance,” Orion explained. “But I do not think those things truly encapsulate love. It encapsulates lust -- longing, perhaps -- but love?”

“Love is so much more than that,” said Carewyn. 

Orion smiled, nodding in agreement. “White roses, on the other hand...they represent innocence. Youthfulness. Purity. It’s not a declaration of true love, but a promise of eternal love and loyalty. And what else could such a promise be seen as but pure and innocent, made easily by youthful lovers?”

Carewyn considered this with a smile. 

“...I hadn’t considered that perspective,” she admitted. “I guess in a way, promising to love someone forever does seem a bit foolish...but I would hope that if you truly know the person and their flaws, a promise like that could be made out of sincere devotion, rather than childish naivety. At which point, such a flower truly would be evocative of purity.” 

Orion contemplated this, his black eyes drifting away pensively. “An interesting thought. Pure innocence, or pure loyalty? I suppose that could be the split path such a rose could grow between...”

Carewyn noted Orion once again considering the rose bushes planted along the path they walked.

“Are you partial to pink roses?” she asked amusedly. “You seem very interested in ours.”

Orion looked up, startled, before turning away with a faintly bashful grin. 

“Not particularly,” he said. “I merely...think their meaning is the most honest, of the lot.”

Carewyn tilted her head curiously. “Oh?”

Orion glanced at her out the side of his eye, his smile becoming a bit softer.

“...Pink roses are sometimes given romantically...but truly, they’re much more versatile than roses of other colors. They represent many things -- joy, comfort, gratitude, grace...even simple admiration. When you choose to give a pink rose to someone, you’re telling them that you greatly esteem them -- that you think highly of them and that you’re thankful that you two have been able to walk the same path. And moreover, that you wish that person to be happy...especially when Fate has seen fit to deprive them of joy, in their day-to-day existence.”

Orion’s face grew a little more solemn, his lips losing some of their smile even while his black eyes remained gentle.

“...There were a few times...I think I should have sent you roses of that sort, in this last year,” he said lowly. “I regret that I’m only now thinking of it.”

Carewyn’s eyes softened as she gave his arm a light squeeze.

“Your letters were comfort enough, Orion,” she said softly. 

She glanced over her shoulder, before coming to a stop at last. She turned to face Orion. 

“All right -- we shouldn’t be overheard this far out.”

She slowly took hold of his hands the way Rosalie or Chiara did, when they were taking Carewyn into their confidence. Her blue eyes had hardened a bit, becoming more solemn. 

“...Orion...I feel I should explain how this happened. ...Why I’m here.”

Orion inclined his head to her, his own eyes becoming more serious. 

“You don’t need to explain, Carewyn,” he said gently. “I must admit, I was surprised at first, to learn you were in the line to replace Queen Rosalie...after all, such power is something you’ve never pursued or expressed interest in. But I’m quite sure you were placed in a position much like mine -- where you were offered the responsibility, and you felt an obligation to accept it. Is that not so?”

Carewyn looked away uncomfortably. “Yes...and no.” 

She sighed as she closed her eyes.

“You remember how in January, I received a letter about Jacob’s arrest?”

Orion nodded. 

“Well, I’ve sent multiple letters back since, requesting updates about his condition, as well as sending personal messages to him -- but that notice was the last thing I’ve heard of him. It’s like nothing I’m sending is making any difference at all, or even getting through...and I know why. Rakepick doesn’t want me sending letters -- she wants me there, in person.”

Orion’s eyes grew a little smaller. “...She wants to lure you back to the Country of Spades.”

Carewyn nodded, her eyes narrowing. “I’m only a private citizen -- as I am, I would have no means to escape any cage she might lock me into, if I returned. That’s why I’m following Queen Rosalie’s wish and becoming her successor. Yes, she’s counting on me, and yes, I know I could help people...”

Her eyes flared with a dark kind of conviction. 

“...But it’s only as Queen of Hearts that I would stand on equal footing with the likes of Patricia Rakepick. Maybe then I might have some power in helping Jacob and Mum without getting trapped myself.”

She closed her eyes.

“...I know it’s selfish,” she said quietly. “But if there’s any chance that I could save them, any at all, I have to take it.”

Orion’s eyes softened. Slipping his hands out of hers at last, he tentatively reached out to take hold of her shoulders.

“Believe me, Carewyn,” he murmured, “‘selfish’ is a word I would never use to describe you.”

He paused. Then he gave her a gentle smile. 

“...Carewyn...I must confess that I also came here for my own personal reasons as well as diplomacy.”

Carewyn looked up, surprised. 

“I said I’d hoped to see you at the university, while I was here,” said Orion, “and while that is true, I may have downplayed it. For in truth, that was the real reason behind my visit in the first place -- to see you.”

He smiled fully.

“Carewyn...your mother is in the Land of Clubs.”

Carewyn felt like her heart had been squeezed. 

“Mum?” 

“She’s safe,” Orion soothed her at once, seeing how pale and tense she’d gotten despite the joy in her eyes and face. “She was found on the railroad tracks just outside the capitol of Clubs and taken to the closest hospital.”

“Hospital?” Carewyn said at once. “Is she all right? Is she sick?”

“She’s fine,” Orion said gently, his right hand on Carewyn’s shoulder trailing over it reassuringly. “She’s malnourished and a bit weak after her ordeal, but Madam Sprout says she’ll make a full recovery.”

Carewyn was visibly overwhelmed. She looked as white as a sheet and seemed unable to speak. Instead all she could do was cover her face in her hands as she silently struggled to hold in her intense emotions. Orion patiently stood by her, waiting until she could catch her breath. 

After several minutes, Carewyn finally managed to get enough of a grip of her emotions to uncover her face again. Even so, her hands and smile were trembling, no matter how strong and stoic her posture was. 

“...Does Rakepick know she’s there?” she asked slowly. “In Clubs?”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” said Orion. “I left your mother in the protection of my Ace, Cato Reese, until my return -- he’ll ensure no harm befalls her.”

Carewyn nodded, her eyes hardening with conviction. “We should keep Rakepick unaware of Mum’s location, as long as we can. Rakepick has no legal jurisdiction to cross the border of Hearts to reach me, but Mum has been declared a criminal, same as Jacob. According to the current treaties, Rakepick could seek Mum’s extradition back to Spades, and although yes, you could deny the request as King, that would then place Spades and Clubs in a very difficult position politically.”

Orion brought a hand up to his bearded chin thoughtfully. “Indeed. My Ace of Clubs has never shrunk at the prospect of war, if it means protecting others, and I truly envy him for it. But given Rakepick’s current disposition, her knowing that we’re harboring refugees who she has labeled as political criminals could fuel a fire that would be difficult to stifle, once started. And once that fire has spread to Clubs, it would be harder to provide the aid that we’re already covertly giving.”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps we’ll need to make more of a statement. King Declan has just as little interest in war as you do, and so do I -- but the Kingdom of Hearts doesn’t have the pacifistic history that the Land of Clubs has. I doubt Rakepick will be quite as willing to pick a fight with us...so perhaps I can pursue slightly more pointed negotiations.”

She then bowed her head, her gaze falling to her feet. 

“In the meantime...will you please continue to care for my mother, until she’s well enough to travel?”

Orion nodded. “Of course.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes were flooded with emotion she tried in vain to hide as she once again threw out her arms and encircled Orion in an embrace. This time, however, Orion was ready, and he caught her, his hand landing in her ginger hair.

“Orion, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you,” she whispered. 

Orion’s black eyes regarded the Princess of Hearts with muted fondness. “Your joy is enough reward for me.”

Carewyn looked up at him, her red lips curled up in a fond smile of her own. “Even so...”

Her eyes drifted to the side. Then, extricating herself from Orion’s arms quickly, she strode back the way they came.

“Carewyn?” said Orion. 

But Carewyn didn’t answer. Instead, she merely came bustling back a moment later, a pink rose in hand.

“Here.”

She fetched a bobby pin from her hair and -- being careful not to prick either herself or Orion with its thorns -- she fixed the pink bloom to the front of Orion’s gold-trimmed green robes. 

“Pink roses mean gratitude among other things, do they not?” Carewyn reminded him.

Orion watched her hands work, and when she’d finished securing the rose and smiled up at him, he found his own black eyes softening.

“Among other things,” he agreed lowly. 

The King of Clubs paused. 

“Thank you, Carewyn,” he said at last. “I only wish...I could help reunite you with your brother as well.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. 

“It’s all right,” she said. 

Although her eyes weren’t readable, her voice was very firm even as it lowered in volume. 

“I will set Jacob free. No matter what Rakepick might do to try to stop me...I will save him.”

x~x~x~x

Orion brought back both that pink rose and a letter from Carewyn to Lane, upon his return to Clubs. Lane read her daughter’s letter with tears in her eyes, and by the time she was done, those tears came down like streams around her broad smile. 

“My Winnie...my little Winnie, a Princess...”

Cato brought a hand onto the blond woman’s shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze, as more tears of joy streaked down her face. Orion smiled too. 

Like him, Carewyn Cromwell was not the sort who would’ve ever chosen to pursue power. But perhaps that was what had made others deem her worthy of it, in the first place -- and, Orion thought, it was as Carewyn had told him so many years ago: he didn’t think the Kingdom of Hearts could be represented by a braver, more selfless woman. 

[pagib1g]

FUCK you (turns you into little animal crossing critters)

[nandysparadox]

writers block over i think. in another note remember the "ambiguous janus and patton relationship" tag in the state of dreaming? yeah im really earning that one rn watch out

[xiiiwayfinders]

I had a draft about how NPTK is actually about Tifa just because I was annoyed by ship wars and it turns out I was actually kind of right

ALSO THE SONG IS FINALLY ON SPOTIFY GO LISTEN TO IT RIGHT NOW

[unboundprompts]

how about a request for prompts where character A and character B are NOT dating (yet) but are both very obviously madly in love with each other. so while hanging out they begin to make some ambiguously romantic (physical) gestures towards each other. yknow, like stuff that isn’t overtly romantic but definitely could read as such?

Subtle Romantic Gestures

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She never failed to notice that he always walked on the outside of the sidewalk. If they were ever walking down the street together, he would position himself between her and the road, gently moving her to his other side with a careful hand on the small of her back.

When they laughed, it made his heart swell. They would throw their head back nearly every time, as if it was the funniest joke in the world. He loved to watch the joy take over their features. It was like their laugh melted away all the bad things. His favorite part of their laughter, however, was how their hand would always land on his arm. It would linger on his skin as they giggled, sending fireworks through him.

When they were hanging out with a group, she noticed that her eyes were always meeting theirs. How long it took her to notice that she would look for them in a crowd, she didn't know. Nor did she know when they started looking for her.

As they walked side by side, he would playfully elbow her in her side with a bright smile. A teasing gesture, but it never failed to make her heart flutter.

"Can I walk you home?"

Their hands would brush, knuckle against knuckle. A brief warm touch on an otherwise cold day. She would savor that touch, make it last as long as she could. She wanted nothing more than to grab their hand with her own and rub soothing circles on the base of their thumb with hers.

Other Subtle Gestures

laughing too hard at their jokes

lingering eye contact

blushing

unnecessary touching (hand on arm, shoulder, knee, leg, etc)

random acts of kindness

making excuses to hang out

offering/asking favors

sharing secrets

putting more effort into your appearance before seeing them

holding doors, opening car doors

compliments, so many compliments

learning their interests, encouraging them to talk about things they enjoy

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[sublimitymp3]

for yandere aemond, aegon, daemon and criston, maybe how do they deal with their love having a lover they are not willing to give up even after marriage? Thank you very much for time you are amazing👀❤

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Aemond fell in love with you instantly when you two met. He never particularly liked the idea of being wedded to someone he did not know, but once he saw your sweet face, his worries drifted away. However, he had noticed your reluctance and apprehension to be around him. He thought nothing of it, chalking it up to you having the same opinions of arranged marriages as he once did. Aemond was sure that by the time you two were wed, you'd warm up to him

He was extremely wrong.

You were never cruel or particularly cold to him, you just never gave him any affection or attention as he would. You would dodge his kisses, wipe the ones he did leave on your cheek off, and you treated him more like an acquaintance rather than a husband. He had noticed you would receive letters from time to time, keeping them close to you and being overtly protective of them, and how flustered you'd look after reading them. This only served to make him even more curious about their apparent special contents. One night, Aemond would find the little box where you had stashed the letters. Curiosity got the better of him, and he began reading the various pieces of parchment. A silent rage began to fill him as he discovered they were love letters, exchanged with someone from the Riverlands, your birthplace. He would burn each letter that night, hatching plans to separate you from this secret lover. He'd intercept each and every letter your lover would send to you, reading them with annoyance before burning them in the fireplace. He could see the emotional toll it was taking on you. Your lover had abruptly ceased their communications with you, with no explanation. You wondered if they had grown tired of you, or if they were incapacitated. You were growing sad, and Aemond was always there, though you tried your best to brush him off in hopes another letter would come for you. Eventually, when three months had passed and no new letter was sent, you'd come crying to Aemond, and he'd welcome you with open arms.

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Aegon adored you. You were everything he was not, dutiful, kind, and cheerful. He admired you, and he genuinely felt so much love for you, despite you not knowing each other for long. While you were always friendly towards your new husband, you never were quite affectionate with him. He would try to win you over, stealing kisses from you and spoiling you with lavish gifts. He tried for months it seems to charm you, but to no avail. It was clear you had no romantic interest in Aegon, and he found himself slipping into old habits.

It was a brisk night, the cold breeze causing most people to wear heavy cloaks made of wool. Aegon was drunk in some alehouse, drowning his sorrows in his cups. In his peripheral vision, he could've sworn he saw you, huddled in the corner with a large cloak draped over you, and with some man. But he brushed it off as his drunken mind playing tricks on him. He focused back on his cups, but he couldn't shake how similar that woman looked to you. He fully turned around, squinting his eyes in an attempt to clear his blurry vision. Once his eyes were focused and clear, he saw that it was indeed you, with another man. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw you sharing kisses and loving touches with this stranger. It finally started to make sense to him why you insisted on keeping your relationship with Aegon strictly platonic.

Aegon would go classic Yandere at this point. He'd confine you to your chambers so you wouldn't be able to meet this man anymore. He would probably have his more...sketchy acquaintances deal with the man, eliminating him completely. You would cry and plead with Aegon to just let you go, to allow you to continue to see your lover, but your attempts to sway him were futile. He'd kiss you, whether you liked it or not, and he'd breed you until he was certain you were pregnant, simply another way to keep you anchored to him. Aegon was never much of a patient man, but he'd gladly wait until you accepted him as your one and only love.

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Daemon was no stranger to marriage, having been wedded twice already, to Lady Rhea Royce and Lady Laena Velaryon. He was quite sad over the manner in which his second wife had died, and he had truly loved her. Though, he didn't show his sadness, preferring to keep up his appearance of indifference. But then, he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on you at her funeral. You were the daughter of a wealthy merchant who resided at Spicetown, and he was quickly smitten with you.

You were wedded to Daemon not long after, as your father was ecstatic when Daemon asked for your hand. Your father had considered it a great honor and blessing that a Targaryen prince had asked to wed you, and he didn't care to take your feelings into consideration when he accepted the offer. Daemon had observed you were rather closed off and reluctant toward him, but figured your apprehension was either due to how your father wedded you off like it was nothing, or maybe even his reputation as the "rogue prince." When you came to Daemon one day asking to visit Spicetown so you may see your father, he agreed. He wasn't going to keep you from the only family you had, and he somewhat enjoyed the seaside town and its simplicity. Once there, your behavior changed. You were acting a bit shifty, and you weren't even spending much time with your father, instead staying out and about, always disappearing off. Daemon decided to follow you one day, not caring if you discovered him and got angry at him for doing so. he watched you go to a pier, and talk with some fisherman. Maybe he was an old friend or a friend of your father's? But jealousy began to hinder his judgment, and even more so when he saw you kissing the man.

Daemon clearly thinks little of the consequences of his actions, and so he'd stride over, cutting the man down with Dark Sister. He'd drag you roughly by your wrist back to your father and have you say goodbye. Once back home, do not think your actions would go unpunished. Like Aegon, he'd lock you in your chambers, slowly taking away freedoms and making you dependent on him. He didn't care if you hated him, in time he'd make you understand his actions.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Ser Criston had quickly taken notice of you, a new serving girl. You were always timid around him whenever he tried to make idle conversation, something he found adorable. As the queen's sworn shield there were not many times he could speak to you, but at night when he was posted outside her door, you would walk by, holding various cleaning supplies. Then he would stop you to make friendly conversation. Slowly but surely, he was falling in love with you.

One night, Ser Criston would stop you once more. You had assumed he would make more conversation with you, but you were surprised when he dragged you off. He would sneak you both out of the Red Keep and into the city, finding some drunken Septon and forcing him to wed you two. You were so in shock, that you barely protested, and you were now his wife.

Ser Criston was so fond of you, and how timid you continued to be around him. He had forsaken his vows just to be with you, and he would not so subtly remind you of this, in some way to guilt you into keeping quiet about your marriage. And you did feel guilty for having a lover when Ser Criston had risked his integrity and honor to be with you, but you didn't ask to wed him, and that was his own doing and of no fault of yours. One day, while Ser Criston was making his way to his own quarters for rest, he saw you stealing kisses with some lowly stable boy. After all he had risked to be with you, this is how you repaid him? No, Ser Criston wouldn't stand for it.

The next night, when you were approaching the hall where the queen's chambers resided, and where your dear husband was stationed, you noticed how...angry he looked. You would slow your footsteps down, dreading approaching him, but it was inevitable. He would roughly grab you when you finally were near, making you drop your cleaning supplies to the ground. He'd hold your face tightly with one hand, threatening your position as a serving girl, your only source of income. He would make you swear that you'd never see the stable boy again, lest something terrible should happen to him. All you could do was helplessly nod your head in agreement, and hope Ser Criston would spare you both.

[vidavalor]

Why do you think Crowley didn't just get another apartment?

Hi! Thanks for the ask. I have French buttercream chocolate cake tonight. I know, right? It's amazing. *cuts you a slice*

To answer your question, I think we have to look at the whole thing with where Crowley parks The Bentley and when (in both seasons) and, also, the scenes that emphasize Crowley and Aziraphale avoiding being seen together anywhere in the mornings and what all this has to do with what he says is his living situation in S2.

Meta on Crowley "living in his car" in S2 under the cut.

For Crowley and Aziraphale, what has always been what *absolutely cannot happen* is Heaven/Hell figuring out that Crowley will stay in the bookshop until very, very late into the evening, as that is the one thing they'd have trouble justifying. If Crowley parked The Bentley in front of the bookshop in the afternoon/evening and it was still there at 7am the next morning, it would send a message to anyone watching that their relationship isn't just intelligence business, it's not just friendship...and it's not even really just sex. If Heaven/Hell saw The Bentley outside the bookshop all night often enough, they would assume that Crowley and Aziraphale are in a romantic relationship and this is the one thing that Crowley and Aziraphale do not want them to figure out. They can hatch a wild plan if they get caught to justify any of the rest of it and maybe get away with it but there's no way out if they get caught out being in love when they're supposed to be sworn enemies... so, if they want to spend time alone together in the privacy of the bookshop, how do they work around the problem of potentially being noticed? The show actually showed us subtly in S1 before a little more overtly in S2.

When Crowley is going to come over for awhile-- and especially when it's going to mean that he's there into the evening-- he doesn't park The Bentley in front of the bookshop. He parks it in the vicinity but not too close-- around where it was when Aziraphale called him in 2.01. Two or so minutes' drive out, on a side street. (A two minute drive is a 15 or so minute walk so not that far but a bit away.) If he's coming to the shop alone, he'll probably use the side entrance to the bookshop but if he's been out with Aziraphale-- like he was in their 'fuck everything, the world is ending' lunch at The Ritz in 2008-- they'll walk back to the bookshop. If anyone notices Crowley entering it, it'll be during the day, right? While not ideal, it's innocuous enough. Aziraphale's bookshop is theoretically a business and is also an angelic embassy and Aziraphale could say that he's trying to turn Crowley to the light and make him into an informant if they were caught. Conversely, it couldn't hurt Crowley-- whose job, like Aziraphale's, is to spy on his counterpart-- to seem like he's gaming the corruptible angel and getting intel to further the demonic goals of Hell so he could say he's luring the angel to trusting him. Being in the bookshop during the day, during what are (for normal businesses lol) business hours, when the business is also an embassy, is one thing. It's the evening that's the problem for them. At that time of day, the bookshop is nothing but Aziraphale's residence and Crowley's presence during those hours becomes much riskier. So, how to get around that?

Here's them walking back to the bookshop from wherever Crowley's parked The Bentley on a side street after lunch in 2008/Eleven Years Ago in S1:

During lunch in 2008, they already planned for Crowley to come back to the bookshop with Aziraphale and since there's no plan for him to leave in any hurry, Crowley is already not parked in front of the bookshop so no one can recognize his car there late at night. This is practiced between them; they've been doing it for awhile by this point. They still are in S2, when we have several scenes of Crowley in The Bentley parked on a side street near the bookshop.

Since Crowley can't be seen then leaving the bookshop once the sun is up or it'd defeat the purpose of the car not being parked in front of it, whenever he comes over, he leaves the bookshop through the side door at some ungodly pre-dawn hour, walks to his car a few streets over (apparating into it would be suspicious to anyone who might have found it so he usually walks, looking like he was just out late causing demonic trouble), and then, in the past, would drive back to his apartment in Mayfair. That way, when the sun came up, anyone who might be watching his place would see The Bentley parked in front of it. Didn't see Crowley leave the bookshop from the afternoon? You must have missed him in a crowd on the sidewalk somewhere because there's his gorgeous, old, very recognizable car, parked in front of his place in Mayfair, gleaming in that early morning sun.

No one was ever the wiser to the fact that on some of these nights, Crowley was not home in his apartment or out raising hell all night but was actually in the bookshop nearly until dawn.

Is it kind of miserable for Crowley to have to leave every time in the middle of the night and for him and Aziraphale to never really know what it's like to wake up together? To never get to have breakfast and mornings together? Of course. But it keeps them safe so they deal with it. As a result, though, they have a thing about mornings.

In 1.01, when Crowley calls Aziraphale in the middle of the night and they both have separately learned of Armageddon, he tells Aziraphale that they "need to talk" and then they both, without further discussion, are at their bench in St. James' Park the next day. During their talk, they decide to go to lunch and go directly there, which means that they met up sometime around 11am-12pm. So even Crowley calling in the middle of the night and setting up the meeting in the park with their code phrase means that the time of the meeting is always predetermined to be at least 11am, no matter what they need to discuss. Even after learning of Armageddon beginning, they waited until almost lunch the next day to meet up and talk about it because they never want to be seen in public together in the earlier mornings. They're afraid of someone seeing them going for a walk or getting a coffee together before midday and thinking they spent the previous night together. Crowley is always gone from the bookshop before the sun starts to come up and they never meet before 11am in an effort to keep anyone from figuring out that they are often in the bookshop-- and Aziraphale's bed-- together through the early morning hours.

Which tends to make this, their first time getting breakfast even if Crowley knew it wasn't really that because Aziraphale's "problem voice" was on, even more hilarious...

Crowley's like I left you blissed out and half-asleep in your bed *four hours ago*, angel... how on Earth is there a 'naked man friend' in your bookshop right now? He knows that Shax told him there's something going on and that Aziraphale called with a problem but this is the only time of day they usually spend apart and they always do so if Aziraphale is going to cheat on him-- which he's not lol-- this is when he would and based on the fact that Aziraphale panics at Crowley thinking there's another guy in the bookshop and based on Crowley's wtf? face at hearing there is, these two aren't sleeping with anyone else anymore and have a monogamous thing, even if they probably sort of forgot to have a discussion about it. Crowley can tell from Aziraphale's reaction that there's some misunderstanding here and then just gets bemused about it but also about ready to kill whatever guy, naked or not, is causing Aziraphale problems, only to find out that it's, well, the guy who tried to kill them.

In 2.01, when Gabriel makes his rather noticeable arrival on Aziraphale's doorstep, it is the mid-part of the morning-- probably somewhere around 9am as Maggie was just getting ready to open her store for the day, Nina was still busy but her more immediate pre-work coffee rush seemed to be winding down, and Aziraphale was having his breakfast tea on yet another day that his shop was not opening lol. The most major character to miss Gabriel's arrival is, of course, Crowley. Crowley's meeting with Shax is just before/happening in tandem with Aziraphale at Maggie's shop and then Gabriel's arrival and actually opens the storyline in the present in S2. The point is that Crowley misses Gabriel's arrival because he is not in the bookshop in the early mornings, which is then something that is heavily emphasized through Crowley and Aziraphale's first scene of the season via Nina to not just be about this particular early morning but all mornings.

When Aziraphale calls Crowley and has him meet him in Give Me Coffee, Nina has never met Crowley before. Give Me Coffee is fifteen steps across the street from the bookshop and sells coffee, tea and baked goods and Nina doesn't know Crowley. Nina has been there running it since post-S1. She knows Aziraphale though and, until the morning of 2.01, she thought the old bookseller a confirmed bachelor. In the span of 20 minutes, he gets a naked man possible deliveroo strippergram on his doorstep in front of the whole neighborhood and then then this other hot-- and surprisingly clothed-- Ginger Goth guy shows up to meet him for coffee. Nina's best guess for why the bookseller and his Crowley have never come across the street to her shop before and seem like they've literally never gotten breakfast together while they also "go way back" and have chemistry and affection for one another for days is that they're having an affair. Nina correctly guesses that their relationship is a secret and applies the most logical presumption that a human without knowledge of Heaven/Hell could-- that it's infidelity, not that they could be murdered if they were found out-- because these two live in London Soho in the year 2023 but are still afraid of being found out.

So, all of this shows how there's no Crowley in the bookshop in the morning. Neither of them have ever slipped across the street to bring back coffee and croissants for two at 7am or gone over to Nina's together. Aziraphale has been to Give Me Coffee alone before. Crowley and The Bentley are always nowhere to be found near the bookshop at this hour, which is how Crowley missed Gabriel's arrival.

So what does this all have to do with why Crowley doesn't just get a new apartment ahead of S2?

When Hell showed up in the form of Shax to reclaim the place in Mayfair in which Crowley was living, it really left Crowley with two choices. He wasn't about to tell Aziraphale because Aziraphale would feel like he had to ask him to move in with him for real and it was too dangerous. They can't have that so why bring it up and hurt them more? The two choices Crowley felt he had were to either get a new apartment or to just keep on as he's been living because the truth is... he hadn't been home to Mayfair that much lately anyway.

Before, Crowley and Aziraphale would try to go some amount of time between seeing each other but after S1, maybe with some exceptions around the Covid lockdowns but definitely not since they were lifted, they just stopped bothering that much. They were already together on borrowed time with no idea how much time they had until Armageddon: Round Two would start and they just wanted to be together so they kept up their whole routine of Crowley out before dawn and no mornings but Crowley had been more or less living in the bookshop for awhile ahead of S2.

As Aziraphale says here:

Meaning: they live together. Crowley's there all the time. Aziraphale does not mind. It's been months of Crowley in the bookshop every night. Aziraphale loves it. He hates him having to leave in the middle of the night as he always does but they've settled into a little domestic thing the best they can with the situation they have. The line is also laden with innuendo, suggesting they're not always just up talking and listening to old records until 4am but are regularly, ya know, setting off some alarm bells in Heaven together. (Couple Aziraphale's innuendo in the "plenty of use" scene with why Crowley says Muriel needs to leave the bookshop when he says he wants to take Aziraphale to breakfast at The Ritz. "We need a little 'us time'" meant all amnesiac angels and assorted representatives of Heaven and Hell need to get the Someplace out of this bookshop right now so I can finally watch that angel eat some pancakes and then take him to bed in our bed without worrying about someone needing a hot chocolate in the middle of the night.)

Their level of domesticity is actually shown to be pretty cute with this bit:

This is the most living together thing ever because it's saying that Crowley is just frequently in the bookshop while Aziraphale is out now. He's not even just there to see him but he spends time there alone while Aziraphale goes to the bank for change for the four books he sells a month and to his appointment with his barber and all his other little errands. You know Crowley likes waiting inside because he likes having a little time alone in a place where he's safe and won't be disturbed but also really the whole little domestic bliss of Aziraphale coming back and being all "Crowley? There you are" and showing him what he got at the shops and such. It's the most normal married thing imaginable and feels like they really live together and Crowley loves every minute of it.

So Hell taking his place in Mayfair back leaves Crowley with two options because it's still too risky for him and Aziraphale to just full on live together entirely: he can get a new apartment or he can basically just keep living with Aziraphale for most of the day and then spend the mornings in The Bentley/out.

If he gets a new apartment, he'd have to actually go there sometimes. He'd have to be seen moving his stuff into it and he'd have to get a new bed and he'd have to spend nights there sometimes to prove he's living there. It couldn't be suspiciously close to Aziraphale's place, so now he's got to drive more in the early morning hours. He's been spending so much time with Aziraphale, the thought of sleeping alone and spending the evenings alone again, even for a few nights now and then, is depressing. It was miserable before and now he can't to back to it again and he doesn't think Aziraphale would want to, either. He also doesn't exactly know how to tell him he'd have to be away some nights again without hurting him. They've both been alone more often than not for most of their existences and Crowley can't do it anymore. There's also, though, that getting another apartment also doesn't do much to help keep Heaven & Hell from thinking he and Aziraphale are involved... but pretending he's living in his car just might.

The only being of Heaven or Hell still talking to either him or Aziraphale is Shax and Crowley has to keep meeting up with her to get information on what's going on there and try to get a sense of how much time he and Aziraphale might have before Round Two. If he tells Shax that he's living in his car, then it makes him look less close to Aziraphale. Everyone knows Aziraphale has a private residence upstairs in the bookshop and that, if he and Crowley were really close, he'd have offered for Crowley to stay with him if he lost his apartment... so what if Crowley can make Heaven & Hell think they aren't that close, they just teamed up to stop Armageddon? He's even homeless now and the angel won't give him a place to stay. He tells Shax to tell Hell's Finance Office to send his bills to his car and Shax actually bought it and said she tried. Shax has been reporting back to Hell that Crowley is living in his car, which is what Crowley wanted her to think was the case.

Let Hell think they've won over him and taken his place and left him living in his car on a side street, let Shax keep meeting him in the early morning hours in his car on that side street... so that none of them figure out that he's actually living in the bookshop with Aziraphale.

In the meantime, no new apartment means no more nights away from Aziraphale. No commute back to it after picking up The Bentley on the side street means more time he can be with Aziraphale before he has to slip away in the early morning. He can just keep going from the bookshop to his car a few streets away each morning like he has been and that's the funniest part of it to him. Hell thinks they left him homeless and abandoned him and, really, they just made it easier for him to hide from them the fact that he's living with the angel he loves. All he has to do is bullshit them and he's good at that.

Crowley talking about living in his car is basically this in attitude, on steroids:

His pre-S2 conversations with Shax were like... Fuck, Shax, the crick in my neck from *sleeping in my car*... if Hell's Finance Office wants to find me, they can send the bills *to my car*... Bastard angel owns half of Soho, probably why I can't find a place... tell Lord Beezlebub if they're looking for me, they can go fuck themselves but if they absolutely have to contact me, they can find me *in my car*...

...and three hours or so earlier from every one of those conversations, Crowley was actually curled up in bed with Aziraphale in the bookshop.

[meiieiri]

LATE NIGHT SNIPPETS [FT. JUJUTSU KAISEN]

❁—CHARACTERS: suguru geto, gojo satoru, nanami kento, megumi fushiguro

warnings: mentions of death and violence in megumi’s part ( T ^ T )

a/n: now this one got so bad it took me two days to write. ALSO, have ya’ll seen the new episode? WASN’T IT SO GOOD? like the symbolisms and the many artistic references to buddhism and enlightenment was just so GLORIOUS??? and yea, my heart hurts knowing what’s about to come. anyway so much for that. here are some new drabbles to keep us relatively happy in the meantime, prompts are open, btw!

༊*·˚ GOJO SATORU

you think it's charming to see satoru try. he's not as half-assed as people think he is when it comes to devoting his time and effort to the things close to his heart. and for better or for worse, that included you.

his hands gently rakes a hand through your hair, your back pressed to his broad chest. he stops every now and then to untangle the unruly bits with the wide-toothed comb he held between his lips as he painstakingly lathered your locks with the new shampoo he just bought for you, the same one you’ve been eyeing whenever the two of you are out on your supermarket runs.

he treats the entire affair of doting on you, bathing together, as if he were perfecting an art form, and he — a mere blushing apprentice — utterly lost and in ruin in the presence of his ethereal muse. his head drops against your shoulder where a loving kiss makes a picture perfect landing that not even the most proficient trapeze artists can achieve. he cradles you close to his naked form but there was nothing overtly lustful about the entire affair (which is unlike the both of you, by the way, satoru was normally insatiable when it comes to his sexual desires).

there was only an intimate quiet — the kind of passing moment devoid of any unnecessary words and contemplations of love or adoration because there was no need for such futile philosophical bullshit when faced with an absolute truth that needs no explaining, no theorizing, no rationalizing for satoru knew, that in this horrible world riddled with lies, his love for you extends into the limitless void.

“i love you,” he mumbles sleepily into your ear, his eyelids drooping, his breath becoming more even by the second owed to the comforting warmth of the water in the bathtub.

it doesn’t hurt to say it every now and then, though.

༊*·˚ NANAMI KENTO

the warm ambient light of the overhead lamps above you illuminates the dark space of your living room, revealing the adonis-like features of kento, the shadows only seem to accentuate the contours of his defined cheekbones, the slight outline of his perfectly-shaped lips and his masculine jaw. you don’t know how you could have caught the eye of someone so beautiful, so…otherworldly.

he was like a monarch butterfly, a warm ball of fire that danced in an evergreen meadow, so guarded and scarce in his movements in fear that he’d burn the entire valley down with just a subtle flutter of his wings. but since you so desired to burn into cinders, who was he to deny your wishes? a yelp of half-surprise and sheepish laughter slips out from your lips when he suddenly sends you into a romantic dip, catching you by surprise, your heart racing in your chest.

“kento!” you lightly slap him on the arm which only causes him to throw his head back in delighted laughter.

and to the sound of the piano’s crescendo, and the singer’s luscious alto tone, he picks you back up, righting your positions, leading you in a slow dance. he sways both your forms side to side, sometimes hoisting his arm up to allow you enough space to innocently twirl around in time to the climax of the song playing on the vinyl player and in time to the sound of his heart breaking.

oh, how he desperately depended on you and you don’t even know it.

you wouldn’t even understand it if he articulated just how mystified he was to hold your smaller hand in his larger hand, to walk beside you for a thousand miles and not even feel an ounce of fatigue, to naively dance with you like this barefoot in the kitchen at two in the morning, to be able to call you his and him yours.

the song nears its end, the bell-like notes dissipating into the air. you try to pull away, suddenly remembering the dirty dishes from dinner earlier which you so carelessly abandoned in the sink but kento only tilts your chin towards him, his breath hot against your lips, “i’ll do the dishes later. dance with me again?”

༊*·˚ GETO SUGURU

a snort of laughter escapes suguru upon hearing the latest gossip you caught wind of in the teacher’s lounge earlier today . “so, i take it kento has a girlfriend now,” his eyelids flutter close when your dainty fingers lightly massage his forehead with a cool moisturizing balm that smelled absolutely divine with the earthy undertones of tea tree balm and aloe vera.

“engaged, at least that’s what shoko told me,” you correct him and he scrunches his nose in displeasure. you smooth away any of his stray bangs, and the soothing action causes him to sigh contentedly, basking in your butterfly-like touch.

to suguru, this was home — spending the midnight hours braiding one another’s hair, chatting away about anything and everything with your silly little skincare masks on, the humidifier in your room in its maximum settings spewing out the comforting aroma of yours or suguru’s favorite essential oil depending on who wins your little match of rock-paper-scissors, chaste kisses and most of all, you. “what are you staring at?” you ask, breathless, when you notice how his raven eyes stared up at you with so much wonder.

his hand lazily comes up to cup your cheek, memorizing each crack and bump of you as if tonight would be the last time he could ever do so. maybe he was selfish — as many mortals are — to want to beg the gods for time and the stars to stop turning, halting their perpetual orbit, so that he may savor this moment just for a while longer. and a while longer. and a while longer. ‘till eternity herself, in her humiliation, feels cheated.

“my entire world.”

༊*·˚ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

you were woken up by his shikigami, the arctic dog wagging its tail excitedly as it tries to climb up your bed. you blink away the remnants of your slumber, yawning. “what are you doing here, cutie? where’s your dad?” you affectionately pat the creature on the head and it lets out a happy bark, leaning into your touch. wait a second. if the shikigami had appeared, then, megumi must surely be up and about somewhere in the house. you pull on your silk robe to go look for him when you find only moonlight on his side of the bed.

you eventually find yourself in the living room’s main balcony which functioned as a sun room of sorts. you find megumi hunched over, watering can in hand, seemingly in a daze, he diligently waters the many potted plants you’ve collected over the years. you shake your head, beguiled at the sight, leaning against the glass door.

“your orchids were starting to wilt,” he replies when he senses your presence, a touch of sadness in his voice. he’d gotten you those orchids for your anniversary as the two of you were on your way home from a backbreaking mission in shizuoka. he’d been horrified to see it practically wasting away in the scorching summer heat. “…i…i had to do something,” he swallows thickly, a few tears pooling at the crescent of his green orbs.

you instantly understand. you walk over to him, hugging him from behind as he works. his breath stutters, his grip on the watering can slackening. it falls to the ground in an unceremonious clang! something uncoils within megumi and right then and there…he weeps, falling into the sanctuary of your arms, his tears staining the fabric of your robe, glistening like the most precious of jewels serendipitously unearthed in the forgotten mineshaft that is his heart. “shhh,” you hush him as he continues to cry.

he could have saved that little girl.

if only he’d been faster. if only he didn’t freeze up in front of that curse. if only he hadn’t been his usual second-rate mediocre self even for just a second, maybe she would have lived. “what if it had been you?” his ivy green eyes are filled with abject fear. “what if—?”

“—then, you’ll come get me,” you reply without a second thought, your voice as soft as a spring night’s dewfall, your hand comfortingly raking through his disshelved raven hair. “i know you will.”

[ginnymoonbeam]

I have to talk about Mok's choices in Last Twilight ep 5, because they show once again how much he both cares about and respects Day. We've already seen many examples of that in how he helps Day move through the world, and now we're seeing the same caring and respect in a romantic context that has nothing to do with Day's blindness.

I think it's clear that Mok is having feelings for Day and knows it. He might not be sure yet what to do about it, but he's doing a lot of careful flirting and is happy when Day responds to it. And then comes August. We can see Mok wondering about their relationship, and that moment when August takes Day's hand and takes over leading Day is extremely pointed.

I do think Mok feels jealous in that moment, BUT he chooses to put it aside. He isn't here to get in the way of Day connecting with someone important to him. But he also doesn't slink into a corner and go "I guess I have no chance." What does he do? He keeps flirting, even more overtly now that he has such a prime opportunity with the practice date. Just because there might be a rival on the scene doesn't mean he's out of the game. Instead of trying to get between August and Day, he's just putting himself further forward. He's positioning himself as an option and giving Day room to choose.

That is by far the most respectful way to deal with a romantic rival. If you try to sabotage the other relationship, you're trying to curtail your love interest's freedom to choose anyone else; if you give up without even saying anything, you're deciding for them that they don't want you. Mok isn't doing either of those things: he's putting himself forward (to the extent that's appropriate for this situation) and trusting Day to decide what he wants for himself.

Of course now that August has broken Day's heart, all bets are off. Can't wait to see how this develops next week.

[lili-of-the-wildfire]

okay fine, u all forced my hand in this one. these are MY azzie headcanons, mostly based on what’s canon in the books but i’m nothing if not a woman who would have been forcefully lobotomized so there’s also some delusion sprinkled in. enjoy 😙 (not proof read or correctly punctuated or even coherently arranged, we die like men on this blog)

* he may be a bit quiet in some situations, especially when meeting people who’s intentions he hasn’t quite figured out yet, but if he does nothing else, he’ll offer up a small smile in greeting. he’s not just going to sit there aloof in a corner, sans introduction.

* he’s a total vibe reader tho, his line of work has made sure of that. like he just knows when something is off about someone even if there is evidence saying otherwise. and he’s right every time, damn him.

* he tucks his hands behind his back out of habit, not necessarily shame. he used to be far more insecure, but as the centuries dragged on, he’s become less and less ashamed of what was done to him as a defenseless child.

* that’s not to say he’s fully healed and moved forward, just that time has given him some perspective and wisdom.

* (btw he loves hand massages with your lavender and lemon verbena lotion and he is not afraid to admit it)

* when he gets himself into trouble he tries to slink off into the shadows slowly, instead of disappearing all at once. nobody has a problem calling him out on it, but sometimes he honestly does get away with it.

* he has TASTE! he took one look at cassian and feyre’s gods awful decorating and didn’t even remove his outside clothes before he was fixing it.

* he and his mate’s house would look like something out of a Williams Sonoma holiday catalog.

* the two of you would put up lebron numbers on a joint pinterest account in a modern au.

* he’s quick as a whip with his dry humor and comebacks, and while cassian may be his main target, the two of them combined?? Mr. your mother and Mr. two hundred years at least TOGETHER? jesus it’s a wonder rhys came out of Illyria with the ego that he did.

* he differs from his brothers in that PDA is not his jam. he’s not getting blowjobs at the dining room table or fucking in tents while people die outside. he’s definitely not fingering you for the first time in a shabby inn, either. he’s more publicly reserved than that because he favors romance more.

* you know how rhys/feyre and cassian/nesta fucked before they were in any sort of relationship? azzie’s not doing that with someone he genuinely wants to pursue a relationship with.

* consider the following: does a man who’s spent centuries pining after the same woman come off as anything other than a romantic? no, lovely reader, not in the slightest.

* he’s got the softest heart, i just know it. while he’s kind, he has his reserved exterior, but i think once you get past that as a relationship develops, he’s so tender and thoughtful.

* his gift to nesta was so personal and thoughtful despite their superficial relationship, and he expected nothing in return. imagine what he could come up with for someone he knew on a more personal and intimate level!!

* his gifts may not be as over-the-top extravagant as Rhys would prefer, but they’re so well-planned and personal because he actually listens to you! and he watches you! and he takes the time to actually think about what would be useful and meaningful for you (Mor could NEVER, luv u tho baby)

* while he’s not overtly sexual, Azriel is a FLIRT! a shameless flirt! he doesn’t need to resort to poetry because when you exasperatedly tell him “stop trying to distract me, I’m busy!” he just arches a thick brow, looks you up and down and says “make me.”

* BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

* And your cheeks heat a bit because he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you’d taste like and he’s starving for it and then he just laughs and you realize you’re a fly that got stuck in those honey-trap eyes again

* So you huff and roll your eyes, turning to leave the room but a hand on your wrist tugs your momentum backwards and suddenly there’s another hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking along your jawline.

* A deep hum rumbles from the back of his throat, his gaze dragging from your mouth up to your eyes, “Do that again, I like watching your eyes roll back for me.”

* ladies/theydies i am PROFUSELY sweating !!!!!!!!!

[pigeonpeach]

Diluc to me loves like a cat. His affection is earned not given. He won’t cozy up to anyone nor welcome people so easily. So it takes a genuine and sincere person to earn his trust and heart. And once you have it that’s when he is affectionate. Like a stray cat rehabilitated he seeks your body because its comforting to him. He’s protective over you because he knows how easily he could lose someone. He knows how quickly things can sour. Overtime he becomes more affectionate in a calm sense. The ideal cuddles for him is on the couch in front of the fireplace, or in-bed after a long day of work. But he also enjoys just having you around or being in the same room as him.

Kaeya is similar to Diluc although he takes more to trust someone. He has a tendency to push someone away when it comes to romantic relationships. He knows he’s in a tough spot and a relationship will complicate things. He already lost both families he’s had too could he really risk losing another? For Kaeay however he indulges more in affections simply because he’s still weak in the heart. He struggles to fully commit to his decisions regarding this. To get into his heart you would have to be a cunning thief and a charming one too. But even so he’d struggle to admit defeat or truly embrace you. Even though he wants nothing more than to melt into your hold. So he shows it by being in the same room and quality time. Keeping you at arm’s length as he knows if you touch him gently he’ll melt.

Itto loves like a dog. A dog that is hyper and destructive. He gets angry easily but he also isn’t violent. He just has a defensive side to him is all. But he loves to hug and be hugged. Although when it comes to someone special he loves it even more. To the point he acts like a koala stuck to their side at times. Although Itto is difficult to court because he’s so friendly and open that he doesn’t recognize when its done with romantic intent. But he’s very loyal and very kind. He will save up to get you a hairpin or trinket you want. He would gladly leap to your defense at any opportunity with a fierceness you would only see then. He is a very passionate man and if you’ve gotten this far then clearly you aren’t against it.

Thoma is kind of like a dog too but not like Itto. He is a bit shy when it comes to physical touch. He’s friendly otherwise though. He’s not unsocialable at all. But he shows a different side with you when you’re alone. He shows you only the fiercest of loyalty and devotion. Nothing less than the best for you. He loves through service and favors so when you return them he’s very happy.

Ayato however loves like a cat. He doesn’t show it. He doesn’t let you know directly. If he loves you its because you won’t know because he’ll spend awhile deciding what to do next. He has alot on his plate and alot of standards to uphold. But he still enjoys your company and support. As he comes up with a plan to go through with your relationship with the less chances of complications or interference he’s still not overtly touchy. His hand may rest on yours, or your hip gently. He’ll leave a kiss on your cheek and maybe on your lips. But cuddling is almost always done at night when he’s resting, in which he holds you close to him.

Lyney loves like a cat if the cat had social anxiety. When he loves someone he clings to them. He protects them and worries when they’re out of sight. He’ll never admit it though unless needed. But he’s quite willing to cuddle at any hour granted he has nothing else to do. He also just feels more relaxed and comfortable with you near.

[g30citiesexe]

note how abed and another character do a han/leia bit in the series twice. first time is with troy, and it references a very overtly romantic scene, but the show was probably like. But this could mean nothing. and the hetero fandom was like that too probably. then, annie and abed do a similar thing and it’s played as a joke but also blatant ship tease. therefore, if people can use the paintball kiss between abed and annie to validate that ship, i sure as hell can use the epidemiology scene to make a case for trobed.

[scientia-rex]

So if I'm saying not all adult-minor interactions are inherently creepy, and in fact the vast majority of them are genuinely platonic, then what should you look for to decide if something is creepy?

"Why would an adult talk to a minor?" is not a slam dunk. You have friends, family, teachers, coaches, mentors, librarians, acquaintances, people who have the opportunity to enrich your life.

But people who want to take advantage of the specific qualities of youth are very real. Many of them are good at hiding it, though not all. Most teens can think of someone overtly creepy--that guy you know because he works at the local Dairy Queen and always gives your friend extra ice cream and has a sword collection. (Real life example, don't come for me.) And you NEED to be cautious around that level of creep. Don't be alone with them, don't let them give you a ride anywhere, don't give them your contact info if you can possibly help it, tell other people in your life that they creep you out. But some of them are a lot less obvious.

Abusers tend to seek out positions where they will have access to minors. Sometimes that's professional--teachers, coaches. Sometimes it's social--church group leaders, Scout troop leaders, or just hanging out with a group of teens despite being older than all of them. If you have a group of 16-17 year old friends and a guy old enough to buy liquor is hanging out with you, it's not because you're all so mature. It's because he's immature. He doesn't know how to have positive, healthy relationships and friendships with people his age. So he's looking for people who have less emotional maturity who hopefully won't notice his deficits.

And when you're a teenager, it's easy to miss that. I missed it! When I was 17 I started dating a guy who was 25. I thought we had this beautiful, star-crossed love. Except, looking back, he was a tier 1 loser. He didn't have anything going for him. He wasn't trying to grow as a person or learn or get better. He was wallowing in his untreated depression and substance use, and fucking a 17-year-old made him briefly feel better about himself. That was not love. It couldn't be. We were at points in our lives that should have been wildly different. We didn't have anything real in common, just sex--because I was, at 17, horny, which is normal and okay! But exploring that with HIM? Big mistake.

"Why would an adult form a romantic relationship with a minor?" Because they're looking for someone they can manipulate into getting everything they want and give nothing back.

The rule of 7 isn't perfect, but it's a decent rule of thumb: take your age, divide by 2, and add 7. That's the youngest you can date without being definitely pretty creepy. So at 40, I could potentially date a 27 year old--but I gotta tell you, even the people I know in their early 30s seem pretty young to me! So your mileage may vary. But if you're 13 and a 20 year old is trying to romance you, get the fuck out of there and tell a trusted adult.

[ghostforwhat]

i didn’t want to hijack any post but I want to ramble abt the reason that people struggle with viewing Will and Hannibal’s relationship as something not romantic is very much rooted in heteronormativity and the overall portrayal of love in a straight sense. Like i honestly think they can’t see it because they’ve never been presented with such an overtly queer interpretation of love, ie the desire to be seen, to be known, while dreading it at the same time. Like they see the show and they think that it can’t be love because love in a straight sense is generally seen as healing or uplifting, they conflate love with hope and only view it through the lens of light, as something to search for and be healed when it’s finally found and announce it loudly as a triumph to consummate it. Whereas looking through a queer scope, love is often sudden and awful and a constant struggle whether its with yourself or with another, it’s pulled into a dark place and kept hidden and protected, a possessiveness at finally having something be truly yours and an equal wretched fear at losing it again through your own hesitation. Queer love can be explicit but oftentimes in literature, in films, in worldly experience, there’s a necessity to hold back and to obfuscate the true depth of feeling in front of others. Like multiple times on screen, we hear the most profound declaration possible from both of them but it falls flat on heteronormative ears because it’s not always a pleasant interpretation, it’s something that makes them feel ashamed for wanting and they cringe away but when queer people hear it, they stop short and go still like a train is coming down the tracks, to be presented with someone who sees the worst in you and delights in it is nothing short of an impossibility, it’s literal unconditional love spoken aloud to each other with no room for doubt and a socially acceptable kind of love is rarely like that. It’s only announced to the two who share it, there’s no need to justify or prove or even celebrate in front of others because in that moment where you are finally known everything else slips away. It doesn’t require explanation or declaration because the person who matters already understands.

[offshore-brinicle]

I also think it's hilarious that this batch of three chapters deal with some kind of tragic love but Ishmael's wlw swag makes it so she's the only one who actually got it in the bag

Like Heathcliff's whole thing is that Cathy did not accept to marry him due to being seen as lowly and breaking his heart so bad it sent him down this path and Yi Sang and Dongbaek get all of these romantic-coded scenes and symbolism to the point you could interpret Dongbaek's final words both in the dungeon and after her boss as a dying love confession (specially since red camellias in korean flower language mean "I love you more than anyone else") but nothing implies they ever actually became a thing and the story doesn't ellaborate on that overtly instead focusing on the League as a whole and the concept of trust

And over here Ishmael has all of these beautiful moments with Queequeg to the point they were planning a future together and basically just a a few steps away from getting gay married and losing Queequeg the biggest reason she hates Ahab so much. It's the redhead who's got game if it wasn't for The Whale

[conflictofthemind]

I don’t know how to break this to you guys, but Byler as an official couple is not going to be happening in the first half of the season and it probably won’t even officially be a thing until the finale. Because of Mike’s issues. And it being the 80s.

Will has actually… been a fairly easy character to figure out. And for as much as he does still absolutely repress his sexuality, he is way further on the path to living authentically than Mike is. We all agree on this, right? Will is used to being labelled as a freak regardless of what he does or doesn’t do. He never really tried to feign interest in girls. Most of the town already suspects he might be gay, and while it would get worse for him if the rumours were known to be truthful, he knows he has the support of Jonathan. And I think he knows deep down that he has the support of Mike (and Joyce). Otherwise, why tell him that he makes him feel better for being ‘different’ (gay)?

But Mike? ‘Just trying to be normal’ Michael Wheeler? We know he didn’t mean that as in school; he prides himself as a nerd. Michael Wheeler who seemed like he could have been on the precipice of finally breaking it off with El, and then tried to go back even harder after Will’s push? And for the general audience to make sense of what they will perceive as a sudden shift in Mike’s character when they reveal his feelings for Will, they’ll have to hammer it in that Mike is afraid to his core of being out for them to make sense of his previous actions.

Mike has a different personal life than Will. Reagan supporter conservative parents who don’t like to speak about emotions. He doesn’t have as strong of a relationship with Nancy. We know Hellfire and Eddie’s death will have big consequences on the narrative, and that the town will continue the witch hunt against all of the members of Hellfire. They list sodomy as one of its demonic influences. Will is also going back to high-school, and it’s possible he has a bruise on his face in that Episode 4 farm scene. He’s been bullied before, and I don’t see how they don’t bring that up again, and worse.

If Mike is out, or gets outed, he will fall from a much higher place into a much deeper pit than Will. I honestly foresee them both realizing eachothers’ feelings by the middle of the season, maybe acting on them in private, but Mike suddenly pushes him away in public when Will tries to initiate any contact or closeness - even nothing overtly romantic.

Will is ready to start being more open about their relationship to family and friends as he’s sick of hiding himself and has probably, at this point, come out to Joyce at the least and met Robin. Mike is not so ready. This creates a conflict leading up to the finale where Mike truly has to choose between living in the closet for the rest of his life, and losing Will, versus the bravery to be open (to friends/ family) at the risk of being rejected or further outed and kicked out / assaulted / etc.