#there are certain things she would ofc drop someone for

[quietlyblooms-gone]

while it's just us here, these are my roman empire and i go insane every couple months over that very first gif set bc MY GOSH the yearning

[sleyu]

thinking abt an sfw thing for mean bf!remus and mean bf! sirius rn (separately). hes a loving boyfriend and ofc his gf is the apple of his eyes but he was in the worst mood when the poor girl walked in on him one day just sweetly inquiring whats wrong with his mood and if she can help but when hes in a bad mood...hes just soooo much meaner and poor girl glares at him, tearing up and before he can even process his guilt storms off, ignoring him calling her name and oh now hes grovelling like hell

remus in particular fits this concept so well.

i think this is predictable, but this happens once every few months, particularly at the end of the month when the full moon is approaching and what remus considers his worst, most menacing traits manifest and reveal themselves.

before dating you, remus was consumed with foreboding and anger. of course, his friends helped and even school took his mind off of his transformations. however, remus never had a release—someone in particular that he knew he could rely on—someone he was certain would adore him unconditionally. since dating you, remus found a sense of normality in his life.

despite this, as the full moon crept, so did reality. this damned remus with not only his transformations but also with his most haunting, reoccurring insecurities. it was inevitable and as his mood and disposition heightened, he became increasingly sensitive, triggering sinister, petrifying fears in his mind that pertain to his biggest weakness: you.

in actuality, remus is terrified that one day, “you’ll come to your senses” and leave him. he’s afraid because he knows that he would easily let you. he is conscious of the fact that he’ll accept it despite the crushing, torturous pang in his chest that yearns for you.

with these rising, uncontrollable, and inevitable emotions and oversensitivity, remus is prone to hideous, gut-wrenching jealousy. of course, remus is possessive and territorial already, but its toxicity is never directed at you. however, near the full moon, his corrupted mind deludes him into believing that you take interest in the endeavours and offers of the people that flirt with you—that you reciprocate and feel fondness for the subtle touches, teasing whispers, and longing eyes that you receive from everyone else but him.

you begin noticing his peculiar behaviour in class when he didn’t greet you as you slid next to him on the desk bench. anyone could tell that it wasn’t remus lupin’s day and that they’ll receive the worst end of his behaviour at any attempt to interact with him, but usually, you’re not included as another target of his anger.

his hostile behaviour and refusal to talk to you continued the entire and it wasn’t until you kindly asked him what was wrong that he finally broke, speaking to you as if you were foreign to him.

‘just can’t ever fucking leave me alone, can you? y’know, y/n, why the fuck don’t you go on and talk to someone else? been smiling and eye-fucking tremblay all day and now you remember me? fuck off.’ he all but spits bitterly.

his heart immediately drops when your frightened look twists into one of hatred, bitter tears filling your narrowed eyes. his hand twitches as your voice shakes, attempting to fight back any sobs to prevent him from gaining any satisfaction from your sadness.

‘you’re a right foul delusional git, lupin. you should fuck off. come back and talk to me once you’ve come back to your senses, fuck.’ despite your shaking voice, you maintained a scarily calm demeanour before storming off, ensuring to slam the door behind you, the loud sound reverberating throughout the room of his dorm.

he was so stunned that all he could utter was an apologetic, disbelieving, ‘y/n,’ that you rightfully ignored before you left. it was only then that remus groaned and slammed his fist on his desk in frustration, feeling far worse than he’s felt all day.

tears of frustration would sting his eyes, an aching lump in his throat would form, and all he can do is sigh shakily, feeling his hatred for himself only grow more. he hates himself, knowing that he constantly sabotages what he feels is the one thing he breathes for—the one thing that calms his heart and alters his view of the world.

remus would take his time in attempting to give a sincere, deep apology. the full moon was approaching and after the turmoil he’s gotten himself into, he’s lost all his energy to provide you with the sincerity he knows you deserve. all he can do to cope is unleash his sharp tongue on everyone else. in between his threats to his desk mate, his heart would twinge and his cheeks would flush when he catches your distant stare.

all he can do is clench his jaw and let his heart ache in yearning, watching you from afar, looking as though you’ve already moved on from the fight whereas your awfully mean glare haunts him day and night.

all he craves is for you to pet his head and coo at him, assuring him that you’ll always be there to take care of him no matter what. all he pines for are the tender, sweet kisses you press to his temple and his cheekbones. he tries to replace the feeling of your chest by lying on and embracing his pillow but he can only kick it off the bed and groan at the unfamiliar, unpleasant feeling that isn’t you.

remus becomes ridden with anxiety while imagining his apology, fearing that when he does beg on his knees for forgiveness and takes accountability, you are indifferent. he’s terrified that you’ll shake your head, and instead of cradling him in your arms, you would tell him that you’ve had enough and that you can’t possibly deal with him anymore. it’s these thoughts that have tears streaming down his eyes in the shower, that have him breathing heavily in the middle of studying, that break his heart into pieces.

before he has enough energy to verbally communicate his regret, no one has ever seen remus lupin as pliant and obedient since he stepped foot into hogwarts. as soon as slughorn would declare the materials necessary for the potion, remus would be bouncing his knee anxiously, waiting for his professor's approval before he jumps out of his seat and races to the cabinet, carefully studying which material was flawless and polished enough to present to you.

you’d take it with silence but he would inwardly beam. this is a step in the right direction, he thinks. the marauders would be gawking at him, watching him say a quiet ‘here you go,’ with a tight-lipped smile and soft eyes.

he couldn’t care less if he was left with a tarnished cauldron or rusty textbook. what mattered more was that he gave you the best one and he was slowly redeeming himself.

before class would end, remus would hurry to the door, holding it open for every single person in the class and holding it especially wider for when you walk through. every other person that walked out of the door was shocked and hesitant to take advantage of his kind gesture—remus, however, didn’t spare them a glance, his stare intensely focused on you, studying your reactions to his unusually chivalrous demeanour.

he has to charm you with this. but there you go, laughing happily with one of your friends, completely ignoring your miserable boyfriend’s existence and walking straight toward the great hall.

‘fucks sake,’ he mutters before racing there, determined to fix a plate full of your favourite food himself.

once the full moon passes, remus decides to make a move, heading straight toward the library where he knows he’ll find you studying away.

you’re so focused on your parchment. his heart swells at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and the slight pout on your lips. he’s so in love with you. that softness is quickly interrupted when he realizes your eyes don’t even look up when he walks towards you, quietly whispering your name. fuck, he thinks.

remus walks behind you and bends down near your ear, slowly and carefully brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. you didn’t flinch. you didn’t move away either. you didn’t reject him.

‘oh, darling, i���m sorry.’ he would mumble despairingly, reaching down to gently take your hand in his. ‘i didn’t mean to, you know that, right?’

between every tender kiss to your head and the gentle, soothing stroke of his thumb on your hand and shoulder, his sweet words only continued. ‘i’ll lend you my books, sweaters, anything you want, baby. everything of mines is yours—i’m yours.’

suddenly, you immediately snatched your hand out of his grasp and continued writing, concentrated on the piece of parchment in front of you as if remus wasn’t even there. his eyes widened and his stomach dropped, churning unpleasantly.

remus tries to squeeze your shoulder as gently as he can to remind you that he’s there and that he would wait as long as it takes. he remains calm, taking deep breaths, all the while inwardly panicking, unknowing of how long he can keep up with your silence and lack of concern.

after a couple of long, tedious minutes of standing, remus quickly pulls a chair beside you, eliciting a sharp scratch against the hardwood floor that the librarian narrows her eyes at. remus rolls his eyes before settling annoyingly close to you, hesitantly resting his chin on your shoulder after pressing a soft kiss there as well.

‘i could help you with the test, i got an outstanding on the last one.’ he says quietly, smiling weakly, attempting to mask the desperation he knows is laced in his tone.

still, nothing from you. not even a glance, not even a hum of acknowledgement. he hasn’t even gotten your eyes to meet his and he begins feeling a wave of nausea at this realization and his lack of success.

‘please, love, just say anything. take me outside and yell at me if you must—please do. just anything. i just wanna hear your voice. i’m sorry—i’m so, so sorry.’ he takes away his seemingly calm, indifferent facade, voice wavering pleadingly, and you inwardly smirk at the difference in his tone.

remus takes your head in his hand and presses a firm kiss to your temple in an attempt to coax you out of your indifference.

‘i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i was a git, right foul one, yeah?’ he laughs forcefully, miserably attempting to soften the tension in the air to which he failed. ‘you could do anything to punish me. yell at me, hit me even, do anything but this, please. do whatever you want to me—just not this.’

again, you do nothing. he desperately wants you to push him away, to yell at him and tell him to leave you alone. any form of eye contact, any sound of his name—acknowledgment is all he needs.

‘i’m not leaving—i hope you know that. i’ll follow you right back to the common room and i’ll steal you away so that you end up in my dorm. i’ll even get on my fucking knees for you and beg you to forgive me. i’m staying here.’

[sh1-n0bu]

hey hey!! new anon here,,

not sure how to write this but I'll try

could we get a scara x amab reader, with praise, overstimulation, and if you're comfortable body worship? (for scara ofc) i wanna make him cry 🛐

also !! can i be 🍷 anon?? <3

♡︎ 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x dom!AMAB!reader

warnings: praise, overstimulation, body worship, dacryphillia, overall very soft and fluffy

notes: of course you can be 🍷anon! slowly but surely clearing out my inbox and thinking on holding a 3k followers event. if you guys have any ideas, lemme know!

wanderer — formerly known as scaramouche, balladeer and the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers — has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything. so when you, his assistant since day one, had suddenly proposed your affections for the angry gremlin he rejected at first.

but that never deterred you. you would try over and over again. asking him out on dates, offering him some help, cuddles if he was being restless and stressed, holding his hand while he undergoes the painful weekly tortures of il dottore — you did it all for him.

and one day, scaramouche did indeed cave in and decided to accept your nth suggestion for a date. it wasn’t like he had liked you or anything, he just wanted to make you shut up quickly. he’s lying, he loved you way longer than you did him.

since then, going out on “dates” had become a usual thing between you two. you two would meet up in certain places, hang out for some time, talk for a bit, hold hands if scaramouche is feeling gutsy enough and say your goodbyes.

it had continued on for so long until it suddenly came to a stop when scaramouche had to go to sumeru with il dottore to take buer’s gnosis. of course the plan worked and the second harbinger came back with the gnosis but no scaramouche.

for some time after that, you seriously thought you were tripping absolute bonkers. everyone kept saying the sixth seat of the harbingers had been vacant and the name scaramouche or balladeer doesn’t ring a bell. you even held an audience with her majesty, the tsaritsa as well and yet she said she doesn’t remember!

that was until you decided to desert the fatui and go to sumeru yourself to find out just what the fuck was going on. it took incredibly long time — sumeru’s rainforest and desert aren’t the most hospitable places for someone so used to the cold like you — but after a whole half a year of searching, you managed to see him again.

him. the one who stole your heart. the one who caused you to desert the fatui despite knowing the punishment would be death. the one that cradled your heart gently in his hand since you’ve been assigned to be his assistant.

and by the archons was it worth the whole thing. to be chased down by the people who were once your comrades. to suffer heatstrokes in the hot desert of sumeru. to continuously get pelted by the rain and thunder in the rainforests of sumeru. by the archons was it all worth it when the moment you two locked eyes. it was as if your first meeting all over again.

by the archons was it worth it when he recognized you, dropping the scrolls in his arms as he runs up to you. it was worth it when he came to a stop in front of you — hesitating. waiting. wondering. before finally muttering “fuck it” and getting on his tip toes to plant a kiss on your lips. it was worth it all — even as you gently broke him down and rebuilt him again a whole new in your arms in the comfort of your now shared home.

scaramouche has always been a shut in type of person. always preferring his own space, solitude and of course, a bitter tea to go along with everything.

but wanderer was a bit different. he preferred to be alone, alone with you. a bitter tea and your voice going “yuck!” whenever he made you take a sip, lying and promising he put sugar in it this time. a shy stolen glance at each other and a peck or two followed by the silence of each other’s presence. “lonely together” you once called your relationship. he couldn’t agree more.

even as his first time is taken by you — the doll couldn’t be happier.

even as he whimpers and whines whenever you praise him, planting kisses on his skin as he blushed a beet red. weakly thrusting his hips back to meet yours under the dim lights of the lit candles. desperately reaching back, tangling your hair in his hand to tug you down for a sloppy kiss to try and hide his moans when you called him your “good boy”, “pretty doll” and your “one and only”.

a weak sob and sniffles resounding in your shared home as wanderer comes on your cock for the nth time. how many times had he cum by now? he’s too hazy and lust ridden to even keep up count.

tears kept falling down his face as he unconsciously grind back into your cock, wanting more. a cacophony of keens and moans and shrill sound resembling a squeal coming out of him as he feels your tip hit his prostate again. archons, he wanted to feel that again and again. feel himself get broken down by your hands, by your lips, by the soft praises coming out of your mouth, by your dick just fucking into him so good to the point his mind becomes a mush.

when you gently put him back together again — wiping away the sweat and cum staining his skin, when you cradle him gently as you two share a quick bath together, when you wrap your arms around him and hug him close to yourself — the pupet couldn’t help but smile.

a genuine, unadulterated smile of happiness spreading on his face as he hears your words of affirmation. in soft moments like this, the puppet couldn’t help but whisper out weakly in a hoarse voice.

“you, [name], my heart…” before slipping off into a dreamless state.

[centrally-unplanned]

This Richard Hanania piece was quite good for crystallizing some thoughts I had around the toxic nature of the electoral college. Obviously the electoral college is dumb - it is undemocratic in an arbitrary way, just randomly rewarding certain voters. I think idea of a system empowering "rural voters" would be really bad, but if that is your goal fair enough; it is telling that so many defenders of the EC will do so on grounds like that, but it doesn't do that! It just randomly empowers people in Pennsylvania, agonistic of density of living.

But more than it being undemocratic, it results in pernicious political dynamics - national elections being decided by tiny slivers of voters such that their hobbyhorse topics get undue preference. It twists the policy agenda, yes, but it also twists the parties themselves, who have to exist in its world. As someone who is far more of a Democrat, I think about it in terms of the Democratic Party; but Hanania is right to note it has been far more destructive to the Republican Party. The Republican Party has a much larger "anti-establishment" element that the Democratic party does, and they are concentrated in swing states. As I have said before, there are more Republicans in California than there are in Texas; but the voice of those Republicans doesn't matter. Everything gets bent around catering to that swing state slice. A Republican party staffed by its members in NYC and Los Angeles would still not be my fave party or anything, but it would be far better than the status quo.

The post reminds me of similar things around primaries; the US primaries are currently built very badly. US political parties just aren't democratic institutions, they don't really make sense to be that way and do not function that way, but we sort of pantomime it with this weird, staggered "race to drop out last" that rewards factional posturing over clear governance & electoral agendas. But as annoying as the democrats have been under it, the Republicans have suffered far worse! A complete outsider who disagreed with a third of the party's stated agenda and was deeply unpopular with the median voter exploited razor-thin majority-of-a-majorities in "elections" with maybe 25% voter turnout to seize the nomination twice. These conditions are "unfortunate" in a certain sense, it is bad that a solid ~1/10th of the US population are ride-or-die nativists for whom "immigration" is their only concern and are, to be frank, too poorly informed to understand the policy issues they care so much about. But something like that will always be true; these systems make every election a dice roll to dodge unlucky alignments, and when you hit them your coalition warps to match them and becomes sticky.

Many Republicans will mention these hazy ideas that "without the EC we will never win", and this is the least accurate idea of all. I actually remember a Richard Hanania post I blogged about a long time ago, about how so many Republican ideas are actually very popular and have gotten more popular over time. School choice, parts of immigration, taxes, law & order, etc, are all winning issues. Sans the EC the party woulds shift, as it always had, to a new equilibrium. And I bet you could do it within one term, voters have no long term memory, like at all. If in two years Nikki Haley is campaigning on Compassionate Conservatism and expanded Medicare, she would do just fine.

Ofc the issue now is that the Republican Party - while filled to the brim with hucksters, for sure - are true believers enough that they wouldn't want that. Because the EC alignments are sticky, as mentioned, it is part of why it's so toxic. Which is very sad because, despite probably being a lifelong Democrat voter, I really want a better Republican party. Because they are going to win elections! It is a democracy, of course they will, and they probably "should", I don't want a unipolar state and god knows the Democrats have their own brand of bullshit that electoral defeat has gotta discipline to keep them sane. Even if it means a Republican party that wins more elections, if they are saner it is worth it. They have some good ideas after all, if only they had a chance to breathe.

Since I don't think Republicans will consider it, I do think it is something Dems should pursue harder. But I'll admit the capacity to execute here is bleak - do your best with the State Compact I guess.

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 1

Cowboy!Frankie x OFC

Hi!

I'm really excited to post the first chapter of my new fic after posting a little snippet of it almost a month ago! In it we meet a cowboy version of Frankie as he returns to New York to patch things up with his "maybe girlfriend", but he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

No age gap, OFC story, angsty as fuck in parts, some smut, and I'm putting poor Frankie through hell again (I love him, I swear...)

And a big shout out and thank you to @i-own-loki who made the beautiful banner!

Warnings can be found here - contains spoilers but please read if you know certain themes may be upsetting for you. This fic is dark in parts and I don't want to upset anyone.

Series Master List

Main Master list

Prologue

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sank behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’d left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed. 

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks. 

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind that hurtled down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugging at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in. 

He pressed his thumb to the button with her name, the taxi behind him rolling away down the crowded street. The buzz from the intercom added another layer of noise to the assault on his ears. 

He dropped his hand. 

Waited.

Glanced down the street, letting the tall steel and glass buildings pull his gaze upwards, to the thin sliver of dirty gray sky visible above them. With a sigh he dropped his eyes down, towards the end of the long street, where the buildings seemed to merge into one solid wall. He knew he was looking west, could feel it in his bones, in the way his feet wanted to start walking towards it. Towards the tall mountain range behind his home. 

He pressed his thumb against the button with her name on it again, the buzzer grated his skin. He had a way back, nothing stopping him from hailing a cab, climbing back on the Greyhound and heading west again. 

But she was here. If he wanted to make this work, he needed to be here. 

Chapter One

A wall of warm air hit Frankie as he pulled open the door to the bar, chatter spilling out onto the street. His shoulders pulled up to his ears, the environment uncomfortable to him and he stopped just inside the door, scanning the room for something familiar apart from the smell of stale beer in the air. This bar was the first one he saw that looked like it would maybe serve someone like him, a Texas boy, fresh off the bus from Montana. He’s pretty sure he still has horse dung stuck to the bottom of his cowboy boots, his old army duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

The door behind him opened again, cold air hitting the nape of his neck under the ball cap. 

“You growing roots, old man?” 

The line is followed by a man snorting and a hand on Frankie’s arm, pushing him to the side. He would snap, bite back with a threatening remark, or at the very least fix the man with his most intimidating soldier scowl. But he just took two steps to the side, his shoulders creeping closer to his ears as he tugged at his cap, the movement unintentional, a nervous habit. He knew he was out of place here, a stranger. 

The young man, a yellow backpack slung over his shoulder and long hair pulled into a bun, shoved his way past Frankie, catching the eye of the woman behind the bar. 

“Hey, dickwad! Behave yourself or I’ll have you barred,” she barked, her eyebrows furrowed as she jabbed her finger at the man and he raised his hands in a weak gesture of apology as he sauntered towards the bar. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he snarked, heading towards a loud crowd further in, walking away and ignoring the frown from the woman. She turned her attention to Frankie instead and looked him up and down, an appraising look, before meeting his eyes. 

“You coming or going, cowboy?” 

“Uuh..coming,” he managed to press out, picking up his feet and walking to the bar. He felt heat creep up his neck at being so easily pegged as a cowboy, an out of towner, swallowing down the urge to turn on his heel and bolt out the door. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and the woman behind it gave him a smile, setting down a coaster with a flick of her wrist. 

“What can I get you? You look like you’ve traveled far.” 

“Just a beer, thanks,” he said and she gave him a softer smile, pity flashing across her face. 

“This is Brooklyn, cowboy, I’ve got twenty beers on tap and forty in bottles,” she said and he felt fatigue set in, can’t even order a normal fucking beer in this city. He sighed deeply, dropping his head between his shoulders. But the woman just chuckled in a low voice, tapping her hand on the bar just in front of him. 

“Don’t despair, I’m a good bartender, I know what you’ll like.” 

He picked up his head as she stepped away, grabbed a glass, and moved to a tap further down the bar. Shooting him a quick grin, she began to pull the pint, amber liquid filling the glass, topping off with a creamy white head. He watched her from under the bill of his cap, shouldn’t really appraise her, but he couldn't help it. The fitted jeans on her curves, and the faded bar uniform shirt tied at the waist instead of tucking it in, made his eyes drop down over her ass in a way a man trying to save his relationship with another woman should avoid. And she clocked him, checking her out when she turned towards him again, making him snap his eyes to his hands on the bar. Heat crept up his neck as he rubbed the small bullseye tattoo next to his thumb. 

“Amber ale from a local brewery three blocks from here,” she said and placed the pint on the mat in front of him. 

“Thanks,” he replied, watching the bubbles rise to the bottom of the head, “looks good.” 

“One of my favorites, I’ve always had a soft spot for amber ale,” she nodded, picking up a cloth and returning to the never ending duty of cleaning glasses. 

Frankie picked up the glass and took a long sip, humming as the ale slipped down his throat. 

“Damn,” he said, “that’s good, that’s really good.” 

“Told you,” the woman smiled at him and he gave her a quick smile in return before he took another sip. 

She watched him from the corner of her eye as she moved around the bar, clean glasses getting wiped and stacked. Clearly a newcomer to the city, she’d called him ‘cowboy’ and he hadn’t protested, the boots and the duffel bag giving him away, even before she saw his uneasy eyes roam around the bar and his nervous shuffle. She’s used to assessing anyone who stepped in through the door, the loud ones, the quiet ones, the ones who are only coming to make trouble. 

This man was one of the quiet ones, she doesn’t think he’s loud even when he’s in his own element, surrounded by friends. 

As he took another long drink from his pint, she turned and picked up glass, catching his eyes on her. She smiled warmly at him, wanting to make him feel welcome, at least in this bar. The city outside is usually brutal to newcomers, and this one seemed to carry more of a burden than most. 

“So you’re new to the city?” she asked him, moving back to his side of the bar, pushing long strands of ginger red hair back behind her ears before wiping another glass. 

“Yeah, came in on the bus a few hours ago,” he replied and she nodded. He doesn’t look like he flew into the city, he’s got the tired face of someone who's spent too many hours leaning against a window, watching the Midwest slip past. But underneath the tired eyes there’s a warmth, a softness in the way he gives her a small crooked smile that makes a dimple appear on his right cheek. 

“Spent two fucking days on it,” he sighed, rubbing a large hand over his face before he lifted his cap and swept his thick curls back. She was temporarily mesmerized by how they bounced back around his ears as he squashed the cap back down. 

“Two days? Where did you come from, Texas?” she asked, her eyes widening at the thought of spending two whole days on a bus, but he shook his head. 

“No, I think Texas is like three days, I came from Montana,” he took another long drag of his beer. 

“I’m guessing this isn’t a weekend trip then”, she quipped, putting down the cloth, all the glasses done, and leaned back on the counter behind her. There’s more work to be done but the stranger chuckled softly at her joke and it pulled her in, making her smile in return. 

“No, I’m here to stay with someone, my..ah-a friend, of sorts,” he said, “Gonna see if I can find some work around here, try a different type of life.” 

“What do you do?” she asked, “Maybe I know someone who knows someone, that’s usually how it works here.” 

“Back in Montana I work with horses, on a ranch,” he replied, rubbing his thumb over the condensation on the beer glass, “Before that, I was a mechanic, cars, helicopters, anything really, I can usually fix it.” 

“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she replied, sounding impressed and he gave a little shrug, as if the ability to fix helicopters was something inconsequential, “I’m sure you’ll find work, especially if you can fix old cars, lots of those around here.” 

She turned and grabbed a notepad from next to the till, “What’s your name and number? I’ll keep it on hand and ask around for you.” 

“Really?” He sounded surprised as he sat up a bit straighter, “Uh yeah, I’m Frankie, Frankie Morales.” 

“Nice to meet you, Frankie,” she smiled back at him and slid the notepad across the bar, “Write it down, and your number. I can’t promise anything, and I’m not recommending you to anyone, I’ll just let them know you’re looking for work.” 

“Yeah, sure, of course, but anything helps,” he replied, grabbing the pen and jotting down his information. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, as he passed the notepad back to her. 

“Aisling,” she replied, slipping it in next to the till again. 

“Do you own this place,” he asked, looking around the bar. When he looked back at her she was shaking her head. 

“No, not at all, I’m just the bartender,” she said, “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna serve these guys.”  She gave him a quick smile and headed down the bar to two men who had just sat down. 

Frankie watched her as she took their orders, smiling and laughing easily as she pulled a beer for one of them. The men, her age, are both hanging on to her every word as she makes a joke,  the blonde one clapping the other one on the shoulder with a loud howl. She winked at him and turned, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf to serve the other man. As she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to reach, her shirt rose up, a soft sliver of creamy skin exposed in the dim light of the bar. Frankie couldn’t help but stare at the glimpse black underwear peeking out above the edge of her jeans, a flash of lace, his mouth suddenly dry as his cock reacted. He dipped his head, but couldn't keep his eyes away, she swayed on her tiptoes, refusing to get the stepladder and her breasts pressed against the shirt as it rode up higher. Frankie had an image of her underneath him, all that soft flesh, warm and smooth under his rough palms, sweet smelling and whimpering.  

She managed to slide the bottle off the shelf and grab a glass. Frankie peeled his eyes away, looking down at the now empty pint in his hands, pressed his thumb into the tattoo, forcing his thoughts in another direction. At the end of the bar, Aisling rang up the customers’ order and wiped down the bar before coming back towards him. 

“Do you want another?” she asked, nodding towards the empty glass. Frankie considered it for a beat and then shook his head. He wanted a clear head when he went back to the apartment, he needed to say the right things to save the relationship with the woman who lived there. He already knew that not even in his head could he bring himself to call her ‘girlfriend’, he’s far from sure that’s what she is anymore, not with the way they left it. 

“No, I can’t,” he said, “It was good though, what do I owe you?” 

“Fourteen fifty,” Aisling replied and he tried not to cough at the price as he pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans. 

She took his bills and he left her a tip on the bar that she deposited in the tip jar with a smile. 

“Uhm…tell me,” Frankie said, absentmindedly tugging at his cap, “Do I really look that much like a cowboy?” 

Aisling’s smile softened as she heard his nervous question, “Well…yeah, the cowboy boots are kinda a give away,” she replied, “It doesn’t exactly look like it’s a fashion choice, and the whole jeans, suede jacket, belt buckle look…” She motioned over his body as Frankie’s eyes dropped down to his jeans and belt, hidden from view by the counter. 

“You’re good,” he said, a small chuckle escaping him, “You got all that just from when I came in?” 

“Tricks of the trade,” she replied, “I need to know who steps into the bar and read them quickly.” 

“So you assessed me as soon as I walked in? What else did you pick up on?” He was curious now and leaned forward on the counter as she laughed. 

“Well, I’m cheating because we’ve been talking for a bit now. But you do look ‘new in town’ and I’d say ex-army maybe?”

“I guess the duffel bag gave it away?” Frankie smiled, glancing down at the old bag at his feet. 

“No, they’re ten dollars at the army surplus stores,” Aisling replied, shaking her head, “But you sat down with your back against a corner, and I bet you can tell me exactly where the exits are and how many people are in here and which ones could give you trouble.” 

Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise at her and she shrugged. 

“You’ve been scanning the room since you walked in.” 

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” he replied, letting his eyes roam across the room again, it’s instinct at this point, inherited from years in the army, “I quit the army years ago but it’s a habit I can’t seem to drop.” 

“What did you do? Mechanic?” Aisling asked and Frankie shook his head. 

“Helicopter pilot, which means I had to be able to fix anything, but mainly I flew things, anything really.” 

Aisling gave him a closer second look and the pieces fell into place, his quiet demeanor, the way he held himself, not exactly folded in on himself, but as if he was  trying to stay unseen and not be noticed unless he wanted to be. A strong, solid body gone slightly soft with age, betrayed by the gray in his beard and hair, small white scars across his knuckles, evidence of old injuries.

“What?” he asked as he noticed her eyes scanning him. 

“Just building the picture,” she said, a small crooked smile, “You know us bartenders, always trying to figure out the story of our patrons.” 

“Not much of a story,” he said, tugging at his cap and hiding his eyes, “just new in town, looking for work.” 

“Everyone has a story, Frankie Morales.” 

He shrugged at that and fumbled for his phone as it began to ring. Aisling gave him a quick smile and stepped away to let him answer in private. 

Frankie’s jaw ticked as he saw the name on the screen, Eva. He’s been expecting her to call since he left her front door. Their front door, maybe. The truth is, he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. They’d met in Florida, after a doomed mission to South America that left so much pain inside him, and a rift between old friends. She’d been a calming presence, someone who seemed to have his back when his mind spiraled out of control. But she hadn’t been enough, being in Florida became oppressive, and it wasn’t just the humid heat. The old haunts from the days he’d spent trying to numb his brain with white powder, bars and venues filled with memories of the friends he’d lost, both those who’d died and those who still lived, it all became claustrophobic. 

When Herb, his sponsor at the NA, first invited him to the ranch in Montana he’d scoffed at the idea. He was a pilot, not a ranch hand. But after a close call, nearly falling back into the habit, he’d taken him up on the offer and gone out there for two weeks. Herb had convinced him by talking about the clear, cool air making it easy to breathe, the open sky making the mind feel less claustrophobic. And he’d been right. The first evening they’d sat on the porch, the mountains at their back, the open prairie in front, and Frankie had looked up at the endless sky and it was almost as if he was back in a cockpit, flying close to the stars. Nothing encroached on his mind, no buzz in his ears, nothing tugged at his memories, just the open sky and an endless horizon. 

The two weeks of hard ranch work, aching muscles, blistered hands, sealed the deal. If he wanted to truly start over, he needed to leave Florida and come here. 

Eva had been enthusiastic at first, pulled in by Frankie’s talk of the horses, a new foal that had just been born, the small cabin they’d live in. He’d shared the pictures he’d taken, all rustic beams, sturdy wood furniture and a hammock on the porch. It looked like a romantic western dream and that’s what they both really thought it would be. And for the first few months they were happy. 

But when Frankie found peace and calm in the solitude of the isolated ranch, felt free and unrestricted, she began to feel claustrophobic and suffocated. The nearest town, a forty-five minute drive away, didn’t offer much of anything. She found work online and began to resent the life he’d trapped her in. That was the word she’d used, trapped. When the fights became a daily occurrence, Frankie felt the familiar itch of wanting to escape come back. Starting, as always, in his feet and crawling up his body until he spent more time out on the ranch than in the cabin. And for every hour he stayed away, Eva resented their life more, resented him more. 

Until eventually, one late evening when he came back after five days on the trails with a group of guests from a neighboring ranch, she’d left. Only a note saying she’d accepted a position in New York with the company she worked for. A line about needing a different type of life, no invitation to come with her, to follow her, just signed /E and that was it. 

He’d called her, spent hours on the phone when she eventually picked up, begged her to come back. Offered to move to a ranch closer to a bigger town, find a compromise where he could still have the peace of the ranch life, but let her live her life too. But she loved New York, after the silent cabin, she craved the noise and the tempo of the city. 

Eventually he agreed to come to New York, to see her new life and maybe find a place in it. But the city was an assault on his senses after so long on the ranch. The peace that his spiraling mind had finally found evaporated as he navigated the city, the metro, her friends, the bars. His feet itched, the skin around his nails was picked raw and he felt on edge, even in the apartment, his mind never getting a chance to be quiet. 

Eva called it his need for control, to always have a plan of escape, a way out. He knew it was the years in the army that had shredded his sense of safety, left his nerves ragged and too exposed to the mundane background noise of a city. Maybe he’d be able to deal with it some day, but now, he needed the silence. 

After two months in Brooklyn, he left. A loose promise from both of them to maybe try to patch things up, to try the long distance thing. But when he sent a text, saying he’d returned safely to the ranch, and she didn’t reply for two days, he knew it was over. And he didn’t miss her. He had loved her at some point, he thinks. But their lives didn’t match, their needs too different. And he saw that he should maybe not be with anyone while he laid down the foundations of a new life in a new place. He needed to find a way to live with himself, in silence, before he considered sharing his darkest sides with someone else. 

And then Eva called. Six weeks after he’d left Brooklyn. He could hear the heavy traffic behind her as she walked down a street somewhere, leaving a clinic that had confirmed what she’d suspected. 

“I’m pregnant, Frankie, and it’s yours.” 

The words floored him, sent a sharp jolt of dread through his system, his feet tingling, then his scalp. A baby. In New York. But his baby, their child. And the dread was replaced by nerves, how would they do this? Would she want to raise the baby in New York or come back to Montana? He had space for a child here, a guest bedroom with a view of the mountains. It would be a perfect nursery, he could paint it, build a crib with Herb’s help, the nearby town was a good place to raise a family when the child was old enough to begin school. Without even stopping to think, he built a new life around the unborn child. 

Or hell, even New York, he’d make himself put up with New York if that was what she wanted. The apartment only had one bedroom but maybe they could move further out, get a bigger place. He could renovate pretty much anything, he was sure of it. Maybe they could find a quiet neighborhood with trees, where his mind could find peace even in the city. Without even stopping, he built another new life around his, their, unborn child. 

“I don’t know if I’m keeping it, but I wanted to tell you.” 

Eva’s voice had been hard, letting him know that she was doing him a favor by telling him, letting him be part of it. 

“I’ll come to New York, I’ll get a bus today,” Frankie pleaded, “Let’s talk this through, a few more days won’t make a difference.” 

She’d conceded, and he’d thrown stuff into the old duffel bag, left a message with Herb, and driven to the crossroads where the Greyhound stopped. 

Now he was here, in a Brooklyn bar, looking down at her name on his phone as he pressed the green button to answer. 

Chapter 2

A/N: And we're off! I'm so nervous, I really hope you all will love this and follow along as I explore this new version of Frankie! I hope to post a new chapter every Sunday so fingers crossed life doesn't get in the way too much!

❤

Tagging the ususal suspects: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @casa-boiardi

[rx-aysgl]

Do you have a headcanon for which major each South Park (main) boy would choose to study in college?

ofc! im very excited to answer this, ive been waiting for this ask for so long 😔🤙so here we go:

What Major The South Park Characters Would Study In College:

stan strikes me as someone who would have a hard time figuring out what he really wants to pursue in life so out of all the other kids he seems more likely to study something he has no interest in, like economics or finances. which is really sad. however if we are talking about a situation where he can find something he is passionate about, stan would imo study biology or go to veterinary school, tho i can also see him dropping out or quitting his job to pursue a career in music. worst case scenario he drops out and winds up taking on the tegridy farm business :(

kyle would study psychology. can see him later getting a phd and becoming an academician. i feel like his dad would encourage him to go to law school and continue his business as a father son practice but kyle would hate the idea. honestly the only way law would be enjoyable as a headcanon is if him and cartman both go to law school and become lawyers and are constantly pitted against each other in court lol.

cartman would do amazing in business school. another option is him thriving in fields like music or law as a defense attorney but business fits him best. gotta love the evil ceo with shady deeds headcanon.

butters would also major in business, he is more than capable. i can see him and cartman two being classmates for 16 years straight lol

kenny would go into either mechanical engineering or chemical engineering. maybe biochemistry, idk. but definitely something science and research based. he is pretty inventive afterall.

here are some bonus ones while im at it:

craig seems like the type to do well at more direct subjects like maths and physics but suck at literary arts, history etc. so him studying maths or physics seems plausible to me. in a country like mine he would prefer to major in some engineering field due to lack of job opportunities.

tweek wouldn't really want go to college and would eventually take on the coffee shop family business. imo he would see collage as too much pressure

tolkien would major in chemistry. i think his mother would encourage it. my headcanon is that her mother would help him in his school work and he would grown to like science overall as he grows up.

clyde the type of dude to go to college just for the campus life and thats why he would major in something very unrelated to him like history or english literature or gastronomy aiidçtkpq0elgmy9w0q

for wendy im so torn between med and political sciences because it seems like she would want to make a change in the world and become a politician but my personal bias is wendy would go into med school because she is just that neighbour's daughter that got into med school i recognize one when i see one rjoqğktntowğqödot

bebe would study either communications or journalism. personally leaning on journalism

im not very sure about heidi but im gonna go out on a limb and say she would study psychology just like kyle because the idea of them running into each other in a psychopathology class about personality disorders after years of not speaking to each other would be so fucking funny

ike would def study computer science

not sure on shelly but one thing i know is that she would apply for as many colleges as she can as long as they are out of state. so she would end up applying for any department without prioritizing what she wants, i dont think she would be certain. all she is certain for is that she would want to escape south park and be as far away from her family as possible.

thats all i can think of for now, i will def add some stuff when it comes to my mind

thanks for asking!!

[oddsnendsfanfics]

We're All Gonna Be All Right

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom)

Pairing: Finan/OFC

Warnings: Death, Blood, Mentions of Abuse

Rating: G

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Back in 2019 I wrote We All Need Something to Hold On To and We're All Broken Pieces six years on, we revisit those characters. We catch up with Uhtred, Sihtric, Sibbe, Finan, and even Osferth.

Final Piece We All Have Someone to Love

The Last Kingdom Master List

“There's been an accident.” Sihtric's cracking voice burned into her ears. The words registered far too slowly for Sibbe to react before he spoke again. “It was Gisela. You need to come home right now, Sibbe.”

Six years to the day, Sibbe had remembered the phone call from her twin brother Sihtric. The first thing he had said, no pleasantry. Sibbe's blood had ran cold and her heart stopped, when Sihtric had told her to come home right away. Gisela, the wife of their dearest friend Uhtred had been hit by a drunk driver.

Tossing and turning in bed, Sibbe sat up, her hair damp as sweat caressed her body. Looking around the dark room, she blinked hard, trying to keep the tears under control. Despite her best efforts, Sibbe could never keep the tears at bay when she had this dream. It was always the same, Sihtric was on the other end of the line and the walls around Sibbe would begin to crumble, if she stayed asleep the floor would drop from beneath her leaving her in a black abyss. If she woke, it was to erratic breathing, hot tears, and her heart wanting to pound from her chest.

The beautiful and vibrant Gisela was reduced to a shadow in her daughter's eyes, Stiorra was nearly eleven now. Funny how time moved so quickly, yet stayed still.

Sibbe was certain that just yesterday she had laid in bed with Uhtred, allowing him to hold her, to grieve and pretend whatever it was he needed to dream in order to sleep. Their routine had gone on for nearly three weeks. Each night she would arrive to a quiet house. Uhtred's adopted sister, Thyra and her husband Beocca had taken turns with their brother Ragnar and his wife, Brida, swapping Uhtred's three children until their father was ready to care for them.

Sibbe would set up making dinner and forcing Uhtred to eat. Once he was ready, she'd follow him to bed, allowing him to sob in her arms while she tried her best to fill whatever his heart was missing. Perhaps she had been wrong in such a gesture, but he had been so broken and it was the only way she could think to make it better. Somehow, Sibbe had felt he was filing a void for her as well. She had been lost at the time, trying to figure out who she was and what her purpose had been.

Grief had a funny process. Her brother Sihtric was well aware, for when their mother had died, he'd lost everything. Sibbe had been his only reason to live, yet here they were nearly twenty years later.

In the present moment, Sibbe sat in her bed, soaked in sweat, silent sobs choking through her body. Six years could change a lot in a person's life. It could shape and reshape you without so much as a second glance. Twenty years could do that even more. Here she was, in the dark of the night, not the same girl she'd been when she'd lost her mother or even the woman she was when Gisela had passed.

“Sibbe?”

“Hmm?” The hushed voice startled her.

“Are you okay, mo chroi?” He'd woke when she flew out of her dream, as if possessed. Laying quietly in the dark, allowing her whatever moments she needed to herself before he spoke. She was his heart and he hated that she was having these dreams again.

“I am, I will be. I just...I had another bad dream.” Her smile was weak in the dark, eyes rimmed with tears. “It's nothing, go back to sleep, min elskede.”

“Is it...is it Gisela?”

If it wasn't Gisela then it was her mother. Sihtric had once confessed to him that every night he closed his eyes, the first thing he would see was his mother laying on the living room floor. He'd run to her, as he had, but in his dream he could never get close enough to hold her dying body. Sibbe would often dream of her mother in an unearthly form, calling to her, arms stretched out, yet Sibbe never reached her. It tore him apart that he couldn't save the twins from such a fate.

“I'm afraid so. It's been six years today.” She spoke to the dark shadow laying in bed beside her. Rubbing her hands over her swollen midsection, Sibbe wished she could blame this pregnancy, yet the dreams had happened every year since Gisela had passed.

“It doesn't seem real.”

“No.” Sibbe shook her head. “I'll call Sihtric and Osferth in the morning, ask if they want to come to dinner. We can invite Uhtred as well.”

“Do you think he will come?”

“I think so.”

“I hope he does, I can't stand another year of watching him go through this. Not today.”

“I know, Finan. I know.” Her voice soft in the dark, finding Finan's hand, she kissed it gently. “Go back to sleep.”

“How can I sleep, when I know that you're sitting here in tears?” He sat up next to Sibbe. An arm around her, he pulled her closer kissing the top of her sweaty hair. “I don't want you to be chasing ghosts. Not like this. You need to rest, our babe needs his mama to rest.”

Seventeen years ago, a terrified, yet hopeful sixteen year old, sable haired, girl had followed her hard-hearted twin brother into Finan's apartment. Barely nineteen, Finan had been on his own for the first time, allowing these two to lie about their age to sign a rental contract with him. At the time he had thought he was crazy, somehow this was going to blow up and get them all in trouble. Now, many laughs and more than enough tears, he laid here with his wife in his arms.

They had married four years ago, a small ceremony with only their closest friends, their chosen family, in attendance. Sihtric had teased them about being married in a church, he had teased his sister since they were kids about her unwavering Christian faith. Finan would take the ribbing, all in good stride, because he knew Sihtric had his own beliefs to work out, never saying these thing to his twin to harm or shame her. Nobody cared for Sibbe the way her Sihtric did.

Finan's closest friend, outside of Sihtric, had married them. Osferth had been delighted when they'd asked. Ordaining himself through some website that Thyra had helped him find. Sibbe had worn her mother's favourite locket, the only thing left from their childhood, Sihtric had saved it when he had convinced Sibbe to run away from home with him at sixteen. Running with nothing more than a suitcase of clothing, their mother's locket, and a bible.

At the ceremony, Sihtric had given his twin's hand over to Finan – with the strict promise that if he ever hurt her, Sihtric would kick his Irish ass. Finan had spent years protecting the most precious creature he had ever laid eyes on, he would kick his own ass before hurting her. Resting his arm around her midsection, Finan smiled in the dark feeling their son moving around in his safe haven.

“See mama, he wants you to sleep.” A sleepy Irish accent breaking the silence that had fell, he pressed a kiss to her temple, his beard scratchy but she didn't mind.

Their son would be making his entrance into the world in less than six weeks. It had been a roller coaster of emotions, finding out that she had been pregnant. Sihtric had always known he wanted children, which was a proud moment for him and his wife the day their son was born, then two years later their daughter. Sibbe was never confident that she would be a good mother. Finan had his own reservations, being kicked out of his family home as as teenager, his confidence on being a father was even less than the confidence Sibbe had.

Seeing the two pink lines, three years into their marriage, had been nerve wracking. Somehow they had avoided this situation, until someone somewhere had decided now was the time to send them their first – possibly only – child. Unlike the men they had grown up with as their fathers, Sibbe knew that Finan would be a fantastic father. She had watched him with his chosen nieces and nephews. He was astounding with children, they loved him and his natural comedic character. He would never be violent or mistreat them, or her.

“Hold me?” Sibbe requested, settling back in bed, laying on her side, she smiled when Finan slid his body against hers. His beard tickling, when he kissed he shoulder.

“Always,” Finan whispered, his body warm and safe. He was her safe haven, he was her anchor. “I will never let you go, nor will I ever let you hurt, my dear sweet Sibbe.”

Secure in Finan's embrace, Sibbe laid staring into the darkness. As soon as she could, she would send out the invites to the last minute dinner. She yearned to have her friends – her family – together. Sharing in stories of the past and the present, perhaps this would be one of the only times they would be able to gather before she and Finan welcomed their own little one into the mismatched family they held so dear.

Upon finding out they were expecting, Finan had nearly fell over when Sibbe told him the news. When they'd found out their first child was to be a boy, he'd nearly broke his neck racing to tell his friends. Without a doubt this child would be loved, Finan had already decided that his second name would be Sihtric. After his uncle. He and Sibbe had yet to agree on a first name.

“We will know his name, when we meet him.” Sibbe would declare, while Finan tried to urge her into picking a name.

“Sibbe Elflaeddottir, we need a name for the wee lad.” Finan would tease her before throwing out a name that he knew his wife would never agree to. One thing Finan had demanded of his wife was that they not give their boy his family name. Finan would not curse his son to that. He was to be dubbed Sibbesson, for the strength of his mother.

Before marrying Finan, Sibbe had taken the name Elflaeddottir, erasing as much of Kjartan from her life as she could. The final decision had came when Ragnar informed the twins that their older brother Sven was being trialed for a multitude of crimes. Wanting to preserve their mother's legacy and get as far away as possible from anything that could soil her memory, Sihtric agreed to change his name as well. Five years ago, Sibbe Elflaeddottir and Sihtric Elflaedsson emerged.

Lost in her thoughts, Sibbe could see the sky lighten through the small cracks in the blinds. Arms encasing her, Finan had gone back to sleep – his snores were enough to wake the dead.

Unable to lie still another moment longer, Sibbe slipped from her husband's embrace. A small kiss on his cheek, she groaned as her feet hit the floor. Her body aching and her mind restless. Phone in hand, doing her best to quietly waddle her way down the flight of stairs, she huffed as her foot hit the floor. Their son was making those stairs more difficult each day, she could not wait for him to be here – allowing Finan to carry, literally, some of the weight.

The sun now rising over the tree tops, Sibbe sent a text, knowing that at least one person in the group would be awake, if Uhtred had slept at all this week. Informing her that he would be there, Uhtred was glad for the company. His children spending the day with his adopted parents, Ragnar, Sr and Sigrid.

Half of Sibbe wanted to get in the car and drive the fifteen minutes to Uhtred, to tell him everything would be okay, to hold him and let him cry. No, she was being silly. He didn't need her to hold his hand. She wasn't to be his caretaker or his babysitter, time and time again Uhtred had made that clear to her. She needed to let him live his life, because she needed to live hers.

Sibbe would carry enough emotional pain for the world, if she thought that she could. Finan had always admired her strength and her willingness to care for each and every one of her friends as if she were their own mother. In the morning light, she sat at the kitchen table, watching the sun creep over the cluster of trees in their back yard. Finan had picked this house, wanting a big yard, with shade but enough sun to light up their world the way his wife lit his.

Staring at the trees in the yard, Sibbe smiled at the birds flirting around. Finan had put several feeders around the yard, along with four flower beds, because Sibbe loved flowers. They were one of life's best joys. Absentmindedly rubbing her growing bump, she hummed softly in the still morning. Through all of the tears, the grief, and the nightmares Sibbe had been doing her best to remind herself - this was a happy time. Each time she saw Finan's face brighten with joy at the thought of their son, or the way he would find any excuse to kiss his wife. Seeing Sihtric and his family, the way his wife and children loved him. Uhtred and his children, the pride that he held for those three young humans. It made Sibbe's heart swell, there was a love that she couldn't explain, the way it filled her with pure elation.

Darkness always gave way to the light.

Sibbe's quiet moment was happily interrupted when she heard the soft familiar thump of Finan's feet on the stairs. Now that Finan was awake, their day would fall into the comfortable routine. Finan would refuse to let Sibbe do anything for herself, even before she had gotten pregnant, her husband wanted to worship her like a Goddess. Doting on her and living up to his promise, he would give her everything and she would want for nothing. He would be so loving that she'd get sick of him waiting on her every whim.

Life with Finan was never boring. Had Sibbe known his feelings, she could have saved years of dating losers, men who were boring or boastful for the wrong reasons. Sihtric had hated each and every man his twin had dated in the past. Gods help them, if any of them so much as harmed a hair on her head, he'd go to jail happily.

Time wore on, Finan insisting that Sibbe not exert herself. Sibbe would roll her eyes and huff, insisting that her husband worried too much. She was capable of tidying the house and helping him prep for their dinner. Not once did Finan take his attention away from his wife, watching her like a hawk watched it's dinner right before it would strike. He wished she would take this last stage of her pregnancy easy, but who was he kidding? Sibbe had never taken the easy road a day in her life.

Giving in, around three hours before dinner was to be ready, Finan convinced Sibbe to sit and work on some flowers for the table. She'd been outside picking flowers since noon, he could set her up to be comfortable while he prepared the meal. Sibbe had jokingly asked if he was okay to cook that much food, Finan was a fine cook but there was a reason Sihtric and Ealhswith had appointed him bar manager and not head chef at the Two Cranes.

A bag of potatoes on the counter top next to him, Finan fell into a lull, his knife skillfully grazing against the potato in his grasp, red peels falling into the bowl on the other side of him. Sibbe at the table humming some old hymn that he didn't know all of the words to, but he recognized. He loved listening to her hum or sing, when she worked or needed to relax her mind. He'd always loved her little quirks. For years Finan had wrestled with telling her how he felt, yet could never bring himself to do it.

It had been Gisela who had talked him into sharing his feelings with the woman he'd been secretly in love with for so many years.

Finan could remember it as if it happened yesterday, a few days before – before Gisela had passed, she and Uhtred had held one of their infamous bon fires. A party, just because. It had been Friday and they wanted to enjoy the upcoming weekend. Food, drink, music, and even a bit of mayhem was always on order. Next to the fire Finan had sat with his beer in hand, his dark eyes fixed on the small group across the way. Her sable curls were tied back in a blue bow, a touch she had added thanks to little Stiorra – she wanted her and Sibbe to be twins. He could remember her crisp green jumper and black sweat pants, these parties were always a come as you were affair. She was laughing and attempted to get Osferth to dance with her and another woman, Eadith. Bashful and shy, Osferth was not one to dance, yet Finan admired his attempt to humour the two women.

“Why don't you tell her?” Gisela held out a fresh bottle of beer to the Irishman. “She won't bite.” Sitting on the arm of the wooden chair Finan was perched in, she nudge his shoulder.

“Tell who what?” He accepted the drink, glancing at her as innocently as he could manage.

Gisela rolled her eyes and tisked. Men. Ugh, it was a good thing this crew was handsome, because otherwise each one was as hopeless as the next. Some days she would tease Uhtred that he and his friends shared one brain cell. According to Brida, it had been one exceptionally fried brain cell.

“Sibbe.”

“I don't...I couldn't...” Finan stammered shaking his head, rubbing his hand over his clean shaven cheek. “She's my best friend's sister.”

“So? Sihtric would understand.” Laughing, Gisela leaned over onto Finan, “He knows that his sister isn't a nun.”

“Perhaps, but no. I can't. I mean...I could. No. I don't like Sibbe that way.” It was as much as lie as anything.

“Finan, if you like her it's okay to tell her. Maybe she feels the same way?” Ruffling his hair like she would one of her young sons, Gisela kissed his cheek. “If she does, leave Sihtric to me. I can handle him.”

Finan had agreed to tell Sibbe how he felt, promising Gisela that he would do it before the next week's end. Except. He shivered despite the warm sun streaming through the window beside him. Telling Sibbe how he felt would have to wait nearly a year from that night. Less than a week later they had lost Gisela and Sibbe had thrown herself into helping Uhtred rebuild his life through the grief. For a while, Finan had secretly thought his friends would end up building a life together. The children loved Sibbe and Uhtred had relied on her more than anyone else after his wife's passing.

When Finan had finally told Sibbe how he felt, they had been at Thyra and Beocca's for a birthday party. They had gotten together, as a mismatched family, to celebrate Osbert – Gisela and Uhtred's youngest son. After the cake had been handed out and children scattering throughout the house, Finan volunteered himself and Sibbe to clean the kitchen. Handing her a dish to dry, he'd laid it all on the line. In the kitchen, her eyes cast to the tiled floor, Sibbe listened as Finan poured his heart to her. He'd loved her since the first time he'd heard her do that little snort laugh, the one she made when she found something really funny.

Sibbe wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, yet Finan insisted it was absolutely charming and asked her on a date for the following night. A proper date, at an actual restaurant. He had even agreed to comb his hair and wear cologne.

“Oh! Oh goodness.” Sibbe's surprised squeal jerked Finan back to the present moment.

“Mo chroi? What is it?” He dropped the knife he'd been using to peel potatoes, rushing to her side. Kneeling down beside where she sat on the kitchen chair, his hand covered hers. “Are you okay? Do we need to go to...”

“I'm fine, min elskede.” She patted her hand gently against his bushy beard. “Your son just surprised me, I wasn't expecting him to try and play rugby in there.”

“Hey, you be nice wee man. Your mama is a delicate lady.” Finan beamed, rubbing her midsection as he spoke.

“I'm not that delicate.” Sibbe huffed, sticking her tongue out at her husband. “But you're right, I would appreciate it if he wasn't kicking his way out just yet.”

Kissing her cheek, Finan rubbed her lower back. Sibbe groaned, the gesture felt like heaven. “Why don't you grab your book, then rest until guests arrive.”

“But I wanted to finish my flowers,” gesturing to the bouquet on the table, Sibbe frowned. “I am okay, Finan, I promise. Besides,” Sibbe glanced at the clock on the wall, “guests will be here soon.”

To nobody's surprise, Osferth was the first to arrive. He was always early, because he insisted on always helping with whatever needed tending. Finan grabbed the younger man a drink, while Osferth admired Sibbe's flowers in the middle of the table. He was shy and came to join the group after Uhtred had accidentally mistaken his boss' son for a new employee at work one afternoon. Alfred hadn't been forthcoming about his first son, but Osferth would never hold that against him. It was complicated.

“Another kindred soul, join the club.” Finan had boomed, half in the bag, when Uhtred had first introduced Osferth to his friends. “What's the story? Orphan? Parents hate you?”

“My mother is dead, my father refuses to acknowledge me and,” Osferth shyly explained his story, “his wife hates me. Is that criteria to join the club?”

In the kitchen, Osferth helped Sibbe finish her flowers, moving the vase this way and that until it was perfect. She was about to make him move it another inch to the left when the front door opened, no need for knocking, as Sihtric shouted through the house. Elflaed squealed, shouting for her Uncle Finan, her small legs toddling through the entrance and into the kitchen. Intercepting his niece, Finan shouted with as much joy as the little girl in his arms. Sibbe's heart swelling at the love.

“Ealhswith sends her apologies, she got caught up at work. She may be late.” Sihtric informed Finan. His attention immediately turning to his twin. She was getting rounder every time he saw her. He couldn't wait to meet his nephew. “My dear sweet Sibbe,” her brother playful chide, opening his arms to his sister, “why are you cooking such a meal in this state?”

“Because I wanted us to be together, besides Finan is cooking.” Sibbe explained the situation, turning to hug her nephew who had disappeared to torment his Uncle Osferth.

“Call the fire department.” Shitric called out loud enough for Finan to hear him, “Good thing I am here.” he winked at Sibbe, he had always been a far better cook than Finan, even better than Sibbe. “I'm glad you called.”

“When I couldn't sleep, I...” “Gisela? The phone call?” Her brother finished her sentence. Sihtric's brow furrowed, his eyes growing dark. Sibbe sighed. Sihtric grabbed Sibbe's hand, kissing the back of it. “I had the same one. I relive that moment more than I ever care to admit.”

Sihtric had been the one, at thirteen, to tell Sibbe about their mother as well. She'd been late, staying at school to finish a project. He'd met her in the front yard, his clothes covered in blood. When she'd spotted him from down the street, she'd ran as fast as she could the wind burning her lungs. She could hear Sihtric's voice crying out as she reached him. “Mom, mom she's...I tried to save her, Sibbe.” Sihtric collapsed in his sister's arms. “I couldn't save her.”

“I relive a lot of moments no person should have to.” Shitric's voice barely a whisper, his sister holding his hand for comfort. Standing in the entrance of her home, Sibbe kissed her brother's cheek. Gently rubbing away her lipstick, just like her mom used to.

“I miss her, too.” Sibbe whispered.

Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, Sihtric forced a smile, taking a deep breath. There was a time for sadness and right now, with his sister so close to giving birth to his nephew, was not that moment. They could turn to their grief after dinner, when the room grew quiet and nobody wanted to be the first to bring up a memory of Gisela, yet everyone would be eager to prattle on about how proud she would be of her children, while sharing stories from the past.

“Given the circumstances, is that husband of yours taking good care of you?” Sihtric took the moment to change the atmosphere, never giving up a chance to torment Finan.

“He is treating her like the Queen she is.” Finan shouted from the kitchen, his laugh hearty. “You do not need to kick me in the arse.”

“He is such an anxious mess.” Leaning closer to her Sihtric; Sibbe whispered with a giggle. “I hiccuped three days ago and he wanted to rush to the hospital.”

Sihtric laughed, his laugh lighting up the room in Sibbe's eyes. “It's natural for the first time.” He rubbed his hand across her back. “Shall I go help Finan? Save us all from under cooked meat and soggy vegetables?”

“Yes, I think that is a good idea. He won't let me near the stove.” Sibbe teased, linking arms with her brother, the strode into the kitchen.

Osferth greeted Sihtric, both of Sihtric's children hanging off of the younger man as if he were a jungle gym. Trying to remove his children from his friend, Sihtric shooed them both along, insisting they go run around the backyard until they were called to wash for dinner. Little good did it do, as soon as the two mini Sihtric's were out the door, Osferth was on their heels shouting something about a game of tag.

Diving right in, Sihtric moved Finan out of the way, taking over the kitchen – as they often did when together, the two men were playfully bickering over who had the better knowledge of the task at hand. How they ever managed to work together in the pub without driving their staff away, Sibbe would never understand. Their bickering always came from a place of love...well almost always.

Sibbe was trying to be stealthy in carrying a stack of plates to the table, not letting her brother or husband see her carrying anything, when the familiar blue car stopped at the end of the drive way. Peeking out from the dining room, Sibbe caught sight of the tired man at her front door. Much like Sihtric; he opened the door and stepped inside, calling out his presence.

“Uhtred.” Sibbe waddled towards him, her arms stretched out.

“Sibbe, the door was unlocked.” He pointed over his shoulder, holding out a small bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.” Accepting the flowers, Sibbe poked her nose into the bouquet, then sat them temporarily on a table in the hall.

“I am glad you came,” Sibbe moved her body to comfortably hug Uhtred. His blue eyes duller than she had seen them in a while. His hair once again long, tied back from his face, and his beard freshly trimmed. Uhtred was no longer the shell of a man that she'd once held six years ago.

“Thank you for asking.” He hugged her tightly, “I needed a distraction today. Now, tell me, my dear sweet Sibbe,” he smile genuine, “when do we get to meet this little one?”

“Hopefully soon, he is growing so big I am not sure I have room for my own body anymore.” Sibbe giggled, placing Uhtred's hand on top of her bump to feel the baby moving. “He's clearly excited to see his uncle Uhtred.”

The smile fading, Uhtred tried his best to fake another. His hand under Sibbe's, he could feel the baby. An all too familiar feeling, after having four children. In the moment, if Uhtred closed his eyes and focused hard, Sibbe's gentle touch could almost take him back to the first time he'd asked Gisela to feel their little one moving around. Uhtred had been terrified when Gisela had told him they were expecting their first son together. Uhtred's second child – his first son, from his first marriage, having passed at a very young age.

“Oswald would do that, he never stopped moving. Gisela used to say he was going to dance his way on out of there.”

“I remember.” Holding his hand, Sibbe squeezed it for comfort.

“Hmm, maybe your little one will do the same?” Holding her hand for a moment, Uhtred revelled in the feel of her hand in his. Her hands fitting his, almost, the way Gisela's had.

“Maybe.”

“Do you have a name yet?” He let go of Sibbe's hand, the fleeting feeling of Gisela moving further from his grasp with the gesture. A happier topic of conversation was in order.

Sibbe shook her head. “We can't seem to agree on a boy's name. Finan wants his middle name to be Sihtric. I am okay with that, Elflaed's middle name is Sibbe. So it's fair.”

“Name him Uhtred.” Uhtred teasingly nudged Sibbe in the side. “A good strong name.”

“Uh.” Sibbe smiled, seeing Uhtred's grief lift long enough to tease his friends.

“We are not naming our son after you, fuck no.” Finan laughed, pulling his friend into a tight hug, appearing from the kitchen. He trusted Sihtric enough to leave him for a few moments. “How are you? Really?”

“Annoyed that everybody has asked me that today. I am as good as I am going to be, given the day.” Uhtred replied, breaking Finan's embrace. “It never gets easier, but today it hurts a little more than usual.”

Finan gave a firm nod, understanding. No more asking, not another word of it. Slapping Uhtred on the shoulder, he kissed Sibbe's cheek, while going to check on his duties in the kitchen.

“I am glad that you came, I really am. Anything you or the kids need, you know that you can ask us.” She softly let her fingers trail against Uhtred's cheek.

“You understand that it goes two ways? When the little one gets here, anything, anything at all. I'm happy to help.” Uhtred leaned into her touch a little bit more than he'd consciously wanted.

“I know and we appreciate that.” Sibbe's smile was warm. “Finan loves you like a brother. Sihtric and I love you like our brother. You're not alone, Uhtred.” Her voice was always kind and her heart genuine. It was one of the things that annoyed Uhtred as a kid, the older they grew, the more he began to appreciate such things. “I should go help Finan, before he and Sihtric destroy my kitchen.”

“Sibbe,” Uhtred grabbed her hand, pulling her back to him. Her eyes searching his face, the emotions worn without a mask, “I wanted to thank you, for everything. For everything then and everything now. You are too good a woman and I truly do not deserve a friend like you. I um, I've been thinking about it, funny after all these years, but I know that Gisela and my son are here. I know that they are watching and I know that your mother is looking over you and Sihtric.”

“I am happy that you found them, Uhtred. I'm glad you can feel them.”

“Always.”

“Well, come on in. Dinner will be soon, you will need to eat and I happen to know Finan has the best ale the Two Cranes carries.” She chattered, leading Uhtred into the chaos of the kitchen.

His friends shouting and tormenting. Outside he could see Osferth chasing Sihtric's children around. If he stood for a second, taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes it was as if he was back in his own yard. A bon fire roaring, friends and family gathering around, food and drink, and Gisela with her arms around his neck as they sat in their favourite swing.

He would never have Gisela back, although he knew she would be proud. Proud of her husband, proud of her children, and proud of this collection of people who had come into their lives. Shaping and sharing in the joy and the sorrows, the people they had found solace and happiness in. The people who destiny had brought together, these were the people that had sworn their loyalty to one another. For better or worse, they would get through it. The demons, the joys, and whatever lie in-between.

tagging: @cacti123322 @deandoesthingstome @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @pokeasleepingsmaug @whitedarkmoonflower @rogers060967 @geekandbooknerd @tiyetiye @therealcalicali @sunshinepanic @captstefanbrandt @titty-teetee (people who read the originals *shrug*)

[daisyychainssj]

I know the whole Richas and Tallulah conflict happened hours ago and it reached a resolution and stuff but I'm just now catching up with it so I'm gonna write out my feelings about it because I think the whole thing and the way everyone is interpreting it differently is really interesting. I'm probably going to end up saying things that people said like hours ago so sorry if it's a bit repetitive to read!

!THIS IS ALL ABOUT THE CHARACTERS NOT THE CCS!

Richas POV - Okay so firstly, Richas' pov is probably the most complicated because he (obviously) has a much more complex relationship and understanding of the paintings. Not only do they cause him to be distressed because of how they're created but seeing it up on Philza's wall has just shown him that his pai Cellbit betrayed his trust. He didn't get rid of the paintings and instead has been just handing them out behind his back and I can't imagine how gut wrenching that must've been. Tallulah get's defensive about the painting and so she becomes the target of all of his hurt, frustration and fear. He is so worked up over this (understandably) and is getting increasingly frustrated because nobody is listening to him. He didn't agree to the "not be siblings anymore" ultimatum because he truly felt that way, I think he was just blinded by pure desperation. This poor kid NEEDS to be given the opportunity to sit down with someone and open up about this whole Romero Richas situation and he needs to be listened to and his fears taken seriously.

Tallulah POV - Now onto Tallulah's pov. For Tallulah this painting is a cute art piece of her papa phil and her brother Chayanne and suddenly her other brother is demanding that he take it back. Yes it's his painting but also she's a kid, in her eyes this painting was given to them and it's theirs now why would she give it back just so it can be destroyed? Also, Tallulah is the sweet egg! the kind egg! oh she's just so lovely and that's all there is to her!!!!! (sense my sarcasm here) sometimes when that is the way that someone presents themselves it's because they're scared that if they aren't that way they won't be liked/loved and people will leave if they're not prefect. This girl has abandonment issues on top of abandonment issues and Richas agreed to not be her sibling anymore over a painting. So this impacted her HARD. (we ofc know Richas didn't mean it but her character didn't) Tallulah acts out and (from her pov) stands her ground for once and now her brother doesn't want to be her brother anymore. I also think her throwing a tantrum and being a bratty made some of the audience even more shocked and dare I say frustrated at Tallulah behaving like this during this situation because that's not how they're used to her being. She was being stubborn and giving these intense ultimatums but she can be like this I think people just don't see it often because she only really lets her guards down in that way infront of Phil and Chayanne.

So now you have two extremely worked up kids who won't really listen to each other because their emotions are so heightened and that's to be expected! Children can not and should not be expected to regulate their emotions in the same way adults can.

Forever POV - His entire pov of the situation is very interesting to me. I see a lot of people criticising the way he handled this and to a certain extent I do agree. However, I think something that is being overlooked is that Forever perhaps wanting to make sure Tallulah was okay is because that is not his child. He only got permission literally yesterday to look after her after being previously denied. With Richas he can sit with him for HOURS afterwards if needed to try and talk through things. He has to drop Tallulah home in like an hour. It's very obvious to everyone on the island how close she is with Phil, she will tell him everything that happened during her time with the other parents. It makes sense, to me, for Forever to want to try and smooth the situation out as fast as he can and make everything okay. Do I think that makes the way he acted completely fine. No. but I don't think it makes zero sense for him to have acted that way. Also, him being Richas' pai means he's seen Richas have tantrums and be dramatic and bratty, he's never ever seen Tallulah do that so yeah he's going to panic and be like "oh shit I need to calm her down/make sure she's okay because this is unusual". I really do wish he had taken Richas' feelings and concerns more more seriously and hadn't just left him for a bit hopefully in the future he makes sure that he does that. It's a learning curve and he's learning to parent as he goes! He crash landed on an island and then got a child dropped into his lap to take care of so he's kinda just learning on the job.

BBH POV - I don't really have much to say here, I think bad handled the situation well given what he canonically knows about the Romero Richas situation (which is basically nothing) He encouraged Tallulah to talk things through with Richas and kept explaining how important their bond is and idk I just think BBH did a really good job.

Overall, I LOVE that the eggs are getting storylines with each other and are learning and growing. I'm so glad that Richas and Tallulah made up, they both need a warm hug and some hot chocolate or something after that whole ordeal. Little kids feeling big emotions for the first time is tough! but they did great <3

(I apologise if I missed anything important that happened between Richas and Forever when they were alone, I don't speak Portuguese but I tried my best based on the bits and pieces that the wonderful Portuguese speakers on here have translated!)

Anyway that's my long ass essay done! <3

[racingmochi]

Predictions for Next Year’s Prema Seats

Wanted to put my thoughts out there (I know Ugo was already announced but I'm just curious how close I'll be with this)

FIA Formula 1 (I know Prema isnt racing in f1 just put this here cuz im going based on this year's Prema teams)

Oliver Bearman -> Haas

Andrea Kimi Antonelli -> Mercedes

FIA Formula 2 

Gabriele Minì

Arvid Lindblad (Campos Racing)

Dino Beganovic (Not prema)

Honestly kind of the hardest to predict. I think MinÌ is the one that makes the most sense cuz he's already competed in an f2 race and had a pretty strong f3 season. Arvid has already been announced for Campos Racing. Dino is rumored to be having financial troubles so it's unclear if he'll be racing in f2 next year. If he can figure out finances, I can see him staying with prema. If he doesn't stay, I'm not too certain who prema would sign. Maybe they'd call up Rafa but that's kind of a far jump from FRECA (yes I know kimi just did that but......) Ofc they could choose another f2 driver or a maybe an f3 driver that's not currently with Prema but I dont know the rest of the grid well enough to say for certain

FIA Formula 3 

Ugo Ugochukwu

Rafael Câmara 

James Wharton 

I think these just make the most sense based on their FRECA performance this past season. Finances allowing I can easily see them all continuing with Prema for F3

Formula Regional European Championship by Alpine 

Freddie Slater 

Alex Powell

Doriane Pin (Iron Dames?)

Maya Weug

This one's also a little hard. I was thinking I don't just want to only have the guys moving up and FRECA is the next step after F1 Academy. Doriane and Maya have both had really strong F1 Academy seasons so I can see them moving up to FRECA. Doriane is currently competing with Iron Dames in FRECA so it could just be that she stays with Iron Dames. If Maya and Doriane don't move to FRECA, Kean and Tomass or maybe Rashid moving up to FRECA

Italian Formula 4 

Kean Nakamura-Berta

Rashid Al Dhaheri 

Tomass Stolcermanis 

Dion Gowda 

Oleksandr Bondarev

Again, this is assuming that Maya and Doriane move up and compete with prema in FRECA. I can easily see Kean, Rashid, Tomass, and Dion sticking with prema (again finances and other things willing). Also, they're most likely gonna have Oleksandr Bondarev move up to f4. He's already racing with Prema in karting and he's already done an F4 race so like i will be SHOCKED if he doesn't move up to f4 with prema (though i guess, stranger things have happened in the 2024 motorsports world LOL)

F1 Academy 

Tina Hausmann 

Nina Gademan

Ella Lloyd

Again this is under the assumption that Maya and Doriane both move up to FRECA. The two of the could stay in F1 Academy since they're all in their first year of F1 Academy (and could even compete in FRECA cuz Doriane is doing it right now). But if they decide to leave F1 Academy, I can see prema signing Nina Gademan and Ella Lloyd. The two of them both raced as wild cards this season with prema and did pretty decently! Other than that, idk who else they'd sign since i really dont know karting and I don't think there's any women racing in Italian F4 that might move to F1 Academy

IndyCar

Callum Ilott

Robert Schartzman

Figured I should add Indycar since prema is going to be racing in indycar next year! Nothing super interesting predictions-wise since Callum has already been confirmed for next year. Robert is the main rumor for the other seat and I feel like that makes the most sense since he came up through f3 & f2 with prema.

Anyways, those are my predictions! Obviously, there's a lot of room for change and we don't really see a ton that's going on behind the scenes. Aside from finances, drivers might just decide that they don't want to race with prema anymore or maybe prema decides to drop them as drivers, it's so hard to say. I think especially as someone who literally just got into f1 this season, there's probably a ton i don't know about that might skew these predictions. ALSO i really don't know other drivers outside of prema so i don't really know if there's anyone vying for a prema seat but it's possible that non-prema drivers could sign with prema fo 2025. So I guess just think of these predictions as solely based on performances from this season and nothing else LOL

Excited to see what comes from these predictions and excited to continue to follow and cheer on prema in 2025!

[d8nielaa]

Would you be willing to write a Brent fic? You haven’t written one for him in a while.

You can do any idea you have but if you need one I was thinking like what if he soft launched your relationship on his instagram but no one really notices because he posts random stuff on there all the time but everyone realizes he was being serious when one day while stage footing he either calls her like a nickname or like hugs her from behind and whispers in her ear while she’s signing playbills or something else cutesy.

Love your work!!!

Author's Note: yes ofc I will! we love Brent here

Soft Launch?

Brent Comer x fem!reader

The dim lights of the Broadway stage flickered out as the final notes of the show drifted into the air. The applause was deafening, and Brent couldn’t help but smile—he was used to this by now, but every night felt like a new wave of excitement. His role as the charming and mischievous character on stage was worlds away from the one he now stepped into in real life.

He entered the dressing room, already thinking about how to wind down for the night. But his mind drifted back to a certain someone—a woman who had captured his heart in the most unexpected way.

You.

Brent had been careful about keeping things under wraps, knowing how closely his personal life could be scrutinized in the world they lived in. But he couldn’t help but show a little bit of affection here and there. And, of course, a little "soft launch" on Instagram wouldn’t hurt, right?

He took out his phone, opening his Instagram account with a mischievous grin. His feed was filled with random, goofy posts—stages, backstage shenanigans, and the occasional weird selfie. But today… today, he was feeling bold.

The caption was simple: "Life’s better with someone who gets you." The post was a photo of you two—barely noticeable, but enough to spark curiosity. You were sitting next to him on a bench backstage, his arm around you, but the focus was more on your shared laughter and the way you leaned into him. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there. And that’s all he needed.

He set the phone down, trying not to think about it too much. His friends would notice eventually, but for now, the post was just another little mystery in his feed. It didn’t matter to him if no one figured it out right away. The important thing was that he knew.

Hours passed. The theater emptied, the cast scattered to their after-show routines, but Brent stayed behind. He had a feeling tonight would be different—he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was like something in the air was telling him to be a little more… himself.

The stage door was crowded as usual. Fans eagerly clutched their playbills, eagerly waiting to see their favorite stars up close. Brent was used to the constant attention, the photos, the autographs. But today, he was waiting for someone specific.

You.

It was part of his usual routine to meet you outside once the curtain had dropped. He loved hearing you talk about the show, about your day, about the little things that made you smile. But tonight, he had something in mind—a small, intimate gesture to solidify what he had been quietly hinting at.

The moment you walked out, Brent’s eyes found you in the crowd of faces. You were all smiles, signing playbills and chatting with the fans. Your laugh rang out like music, and he couldn’t resist.

He made his way through the crowd, his heart racing just a little. There was something thrilling about this moment, about showing the world that this—you—was real. And he couldn’t wait to make it clear.

Brent reached you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he slipped into your space behind the table where you were signing autographs. The fans around you didn’t notice the little exchange happening just off to the side. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered in a voice only you could hear, “Hey, beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew that voice, and it sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t help but turn, giving him a soft smile that melted all the tension in his chest.

You leaned back against him, the warmth of his presence making you feel more at ease than you had all day. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into a gentle hug from behind. The fans continued to ask for your attention, but for a moment, everything else faded. It was just you two—his arms around you, the soft hum of the crowd, and the sweet smell of his cologne that always lingered long after the show ended.

“Don’t mind me,” Brent said, his voice teasing but full of affection. “Just a proud boyfriend.”

The fans around you had started to notice now, the realization dawning on them. There were whispers, but Brent couldn’t care less. The world could know if they wanted. You were his, and he was finally ready to show that off.

You giggled, glancing over your shoulder at him, your hand resting on his, giving it a soft squeeze. “I think they’re starting to catch on,” you whispered back, smiling at the sweet moment he had just shared with you.

Brent chuckled, the sound like a comforting melody. “Let them wonder for a bit longer.” He squeezed you tighter, his voice low and playful. “I’m just here to support my favorite person.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re such a dork,” you teased, but you loved every second of it.

And just like that, the mystery of the soft launch was no more. In the quietest, most intimate of ways, Brent had made his affection for you undeniable. There would be no more hiding behind subtle hints and cryptic posts. From now on, everyone would know exactly what he’d been trying to say all along.

He kissed the top of your head and whispered, “I love you.”

You didn’t say anything, not right away, but you knew. He knew. And the fans would know too. You were his, and nothing had ever felt more right.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: BOOYAHHHHHH RARRRRRR4

[katyspersonal]

Today's Demon's Souls playing

I played a bit more Demon's Souls today! At this point I am unable to play it without @val-of-the-north watching me stream it fdhfhsd Having someone see me play is like an addiction

1) Got back to the mines place where I killed the Firelurker last time because according to Val there was another boss! Didn't expect it to appear literally in the next room tho XD It was Dragon God! There was also a sword that apparently was supposed to be used for this battle but I didn't have Str requirement to use it (Fromsoft moment💀) so I was barely reducing its health with the spear at the final stage of its battle fsdhfdhsdf

2) Val also earlier explained to me what demons in this setting exactly are and how they come to exist, it is so cool! Apparently, Dragon God appeared because of the legends local people created around giant bones found in there?? This is so cool! I love how there are both concrete rules while also a huge freedom to what demons can be!

3) As soon as I saw the message that I've killed an Archdemon though, my instant monkey brain response was to go back to Boletaria Palace and cross the fog gate after Iron Knight XD LMAAAO at that one Fat Official doing the reverential bow thing fjhhsdhs

Discovered that you can climb over certain places and jump down, as well as climb up too? This is strange

4) I died several times at this area tho -_- I insisted on clearing the level, though Val kept telling me over and over to drop it for later. Got cornerguy'd, got burnt by stepping on a dumb burning rock (no offence, it was ALSO burning my enemies when used right lol), fell into water, and also THE FUCKING STUPID. FUCKING GODDAMN STUPID ARCHER GUY. WOULD NOT FUCKING EVER STOP SHOOTING AT ME, THROUGH. THE FUCKING. WALL. Eventually Val told me that I can't clear this area because I literally fight Allant in the 1-4 (idk what this Mario ass levels terminology is sdfjdsfjh) so I scolded him for "not having told me sooner" and left lol.

5) Went into Latria instead! And this was going to be it for the rest of the evening.

6) Why are you me, I am me???

No, seriously, I started as Magician (always use magic because skill issue lol) and haven't changed my catalyst or clothing since the beginning! It jumpscared me to find my own people set here xD

Val explained to me that this is the prison for magicians because Soul Arts was what brought the First Scourge or whatever, but that by now the purpose was changed. Though we speculated how it could work to have different tutorial areas depending on the starter class, and how funny it would be if starting as Magician would make your tutorial area this prison instead xd (Not my actual suggestion ofc, it would be too much of a typical videogame, and From isn't like that!)

7) Something DID make me sad tho:

So at some points I started freeing these guys, and they were following me, which was fun...... until it wasn't.

Like, I actually felt bad about non-hostile ones ;-; How hard it was to just make them like, run towards the exit upon being freed and despawn?? I literally had to kill them to be able to move normally, especially when they started to pile up, nothing personal 💀💀💀 Honestly, Miyazaki knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted us to feel bad about killing the guys who did nothing wrong and just were confused and happy to be freed. Bruh this guy was always the same. 💀💀💀

8) Met this woman:

A funny #videogamemoment btw: you see her sleeves? They look pretty narrow and closed, right? WRONG:

When I caught her singing, turned out that her sleeves were fucking LONG as fuck XD The clipping of the texture is so bad that when she puts her hands together, the long sleeves clip through the skirt and become invisible hfhfhdsd Why this is so funny

9) Remember how I said that I felt uncomfortable if not guilty for killing the prisoner guys? By this point I ended up instead going out of my way TO kill them even if they were literally just standing there in their cells and doing nothing sdjfhdhsd Val was so confused as to why I'd keep doing it compulsively even if they don't drop more than literally 3 Souls hdfsdhd Guess I came around lmao XD

10) So, I've picked this set.....

...and Val revealed to me that it IS the John Demonsouls' set, but it looks different for female character. :> ...really. Fucking REALLY. Are you SHITTING me. DUDE. You DO NOT fucking make the SET OF JOHN SOULSBORNE LOOK DIFFERENT BASED ON GENDER.

Can you guys NOT touch the universality of John pls т.т It is sacred, it is not a Pokemon game where the girl and the boy protag are different fsdhhfdsh Well at least they haven't done that in any other game since...

11) Met one of the bootleg Brainsuckers guys in the narrow corridor where I could not just spam magic at him and panicked, saying that there was no way I could kill him because his magic went THROUGH shield, nor there was anywhere to hide :s While still being mad at how it was "impossible", I just somehow automatically adapted to rolling and hitting with melee weapon fast enough. k

12) Got to see the stained glass that is not in the cutscene that I've already seen though videos:

Certain lighting from what I've seen so far made me question if this hair was dark blond or whatever, but nope! This is a very brown hair if I've seen one! That makes me think of something from earlier (for another post)

13) @heraldofcrow say THAAAAANKS to Val, because he spoilered to me that I should have killed this guy btw:

(The punchline is that for some reason I was going to already do that anyway XD)

14) Finally got to meet and freed this guy:

I swear, From has a thing for the imprisoned wizard type shsdhfsdd

15) I got to fight Fool's Idol, it was a super easy first try! I could fucking figure by myself that magic would not work, and instead decided to opt out for the bow! I was just sniping her while hiding behind the columns all the time, so it was easy to not get damage and quickly figure out which one was the real! Val was mad at me because he didn't expect the bow strategy to work so well XD

WHY THESE GUYS TAKE ME IN ANOR LONDO AFTER THIS BATTLE THO WHAT IS GOING ON LMAO

16) Okay so after this I decided to go back to Nexus and call it a day. What can I say... Latria's level design was not bad at all. @fantomette22 made it sound to me like it was absolute hell but it honestly was fun? I only barely got annoyed by the maze layout towards the end when I died to that guy in open space and forgor how to get back to him, and only because I wanted to sleep

17) Funny thing: later on I jumped down from the staircase in this spot, and happened to land JUST on Freke!

It almost aggroed him lol xD It is funny because I literally knew he was there, but still made this mistake lol

Also, his apprentice is such a fucking simp lmao fdjhhsdsdf It would be very nice if I could mass-screenshot somehow because his dialogue about Freke is SOOOOO defensive, I found it funny fdhhds

P.S.: Cute beret tho

P.P.S.: If I end up simping for Old Monk or Queen of Latria instead of for Allant like I was meant to I am SUING @heraldofcrow. (I should be suing Val instead probably but bullying the one member of Lore Council who can't reliably retort is more fun)

[gemttiem-ebianlavae-tiaviniat]

7x09 ficlet

Just wrote something down after seeing the stills for the upcoming episode. It kind of sucks, but I hope y'all see the vision I have.

Sort of spoilers so you will find the whole fic under the thingy.

----------------------------------------------------

‘’Hey’’ Tommy spoke softly as he walked up to Buck.

‘’Hey’’ Buck replied with a soft smile on his face.

‘’So I was thinking we are both off tomorrow, maybe we could hang out or something.’’

‘’Yeah, I’d love that.’’ Buck replied looking a bit conflicted.

Noticing Buck’s demeanor, Tommy raised an eyebrow. ‘’But?’’

Buck sighed. Twiddling with his hands. ‘’I sort of already told Eddie I would watch Chris.’’

‘’Again?’’ Tommy asked, with no heat behind his words.

‘’Yeah, sorry.’’ Buck scratched the back of his neck. Giving Tommy and apologetic look.

Tommy placed his hands on Buck’s shoulders, rubbing up at down. ‘’No, you don’t need to apologize, I get it.’’

Buck gave him a grateful look.

‘’Things between him and Marisol are going great then, I guess?’’

Not even two weeks earlier Eddie was considering breaking things off with Marisol after finding out she was a nun. Buck had told Tommy all about it.

‘’I guess.’’ Buck replied shrugging his shoulders. ‘’He was being very secretive about it though. ‘’ He added looking a little confused. ‘’Eddie asked me when we were away from Chris and Marisol and asked if I wouldn’t mention it to them yet.’’

‘’Hmm.’’ Tommy nodded. ‘’Should we be worried?’’

‘’No.’’ Buck, replied quickly.  ‘’I mean, I know Eddie. He’s a good guy, probably has some fancy date planned.’’

‘’Must be nice.’’

Buck knows Tommy didn’t mean anything by it, but he still felt bad about having to decline Tommy’s offer. Buck bit his lip. ‘’I mean, you can join us tomorrow?’’

‘’You think that’s a good idea?’’ Tommy raised his eyebrows, adding softly. ‘’ I wouldn’t wanna impose.’’

‘’Yeah ofc. Chris likes you, he’d love to have you around’’

‘’Yeah?’’ Tommy smiled softly.  ‘’Alright then.’’

‘’It’s a date. Sort off.’’ Buck grinned. ‘’Though we’d probably need to keep the PDA low.

‘’We?’’ Tommy asked amused.

‘’Yeah.’’

‘’I’m sorry who was the one with almost his hands down my pants just now?’’

‘’Shhh.’’ Buck looked around nervously, his cheeks turning red.

Tommy grinned at Buck’s reaction.

A few minutes earlier Buck was basically draped over Tommy. Holding his hand, and kissing his palm. Hugging him from behind, giving a sloppy cheek kiss. Buck couldn’t help himself. Tommy looked fucking amazing in his suit. No one could blame him for being a little hands on. And if it annoyed a certain someone from Tommy’s past that made Tommy act like he was back in middle school, being bullied by a bigger kid. Then how could he not?

Tommy nudged Buck, murmering closely to his ear.

‘’Not that I’d  complain of course.’’

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

When Eddie dropped Chris of at Buck’s. Tommy was already there. He was a bit nervous. Did Chris even want him there? When Chris walked through the door he had excitedly yelled Buck’s name. When he saw Tommy he looked a bit confused.

Tommy was in the kitchen making a snack as Chris watched Buck set up their game.  ‘’When dad said you wanted to hang out I wasn’t expecting tommy to be here.’’ Chris said just above a whisper to Buck.

Buck was confused. Eddie had told Chris that he wanted to spend time with him, and not that he had another date with Marisol. What was going on? Noticing Buck’s demeanor Chris added. ‘’It’s okay though, I like Tommy.’’

Hearing those words made Buck snap out of his thoughts. His heart skipped a beat, a wide smile appeared on his face.

‘’Yeah? I do too.’’

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

After what felt like hours of gaming, Tommy had suggested to go somewhere outside. The weather was nice and it would be a shame to spent it all day inside. Buck and Chris agreed. So they ended up at the park. Tommy had just bought the three of them Ice creams.

‘’So you and tommy are dating? Is he your boyfriend then?’’ Chris asked taking a lick from his ice cream.

Buck didn’t know what to answer. Him and Tommy never talked about what they were before. They had been on a total of three dates, one which was a failure, the coffee date was nice and their last date was the wedding, sort of. Scheduling didn’t work in their favor unfortunately.

Noticing Buck wasn’t sure how to respond, Tommy answered for him. ‘’You’re putting me in a difficult spot here kid.’’ Tommy said with a serious look. ‘’I haven’t had the chance to ask him to be my boyfriend yet.’’ He added smiling, winking at Buck.

Buck blushed at his words. He was going to say something when he caught something in the corner of his eye.

Eddie was at the park. He was in a boat on the lake. A very romantic date, if it would have been Eddie and Marisol, but with him wasn’t Marisol. It was another woman. And they were laughing and smiling and she just pulled Eddie in for a kiss.

Eddie was cheating on Marisol? Eddie the nester Diaz? Buck couldn’t believe his eyes. Tommy Followed Buck’s gaze for a split second, realized what he was looking at and shared a look, before Chris could follow what was going on, Buck stood up pulling the attention to him.

‘’How about we go to the Zoo? We haven’t been in a while and I am sure Tommy would want to visit?’’ Buck gave a look at Tommy, silently begging him to help him out.

‘’Yeah, I’d like to go to the zoo.’’ Tommy said, standing up next to Buck, making sure Chris wouldn’t look the other way.

Chris looked confused, but didn’t protest.

---------------------------------------------------------

‘’We should talk to him right?’’ Buck asked Tommy that night. Eddie had picked up Chris a few minutes earlier. Buck had asked him how his date with Marisol went and Eddie had replied that it was good. That he owed Buck for watching Chris. Buck couldn’t look Eddie in the eyes.

‘’I don’t know..’’ Tommy said unsure as he was leaning against Buck’s kitchen counter. ‘’Whatever is going on, Eddie probably didn’t want to involve you.’’ He added, folding his arms over each other as he shrugged.

‘’He’s my best friend. I just didn’t think he’d ever lie to me, we tell each other everything.’’ Buck said, pacing around in the room.

‘’Everything?’’ Tommy raised an eyebrow.

‘’Well yeah, he has my back and I have his and all that. I just don’t understand why he would keep this from me.’’ Buck sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. What was going on with Eddie?

‘’Hey, come here.’’ Tommy said as he watched Buck. He pulled him into a hug. ‘’Why don’t you talk to him about it tomorrow?’’ Tommy kissed the birthmark on Buck’s face. Buck sighed holding onto him. Tommy, as short as he had been in Buck’s life, always had a way to make Buck feel better.

‘’Yeah, I will.’’

[srim01997]

Second Change| Aemond T. X OFC

Paring:  Aemond “One-Eye” Targaryen x Viseara Targaryen (OC), Aemond Targaryen x Viseara Targaryen (OC), Implied Aegon II Targaryen x Celtigar! OFC

Fandom: House of The Dragon (HBO)

Warning: Slight NSFW, Larys being creepy

Writer’s note: Sorry for my grammar and I used this web to translate High Valyrian >> This web <<

Please ilke, comment and reblog!!

Previous Chapter | Second Chance masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter 8 The enemy of an enemy is my friend

Viseara acknowledged that, as of late, Aemond had been shadowing her closely, especially when lords approached her. Most of them quickly retreated upon noticing the ominous presence of the one-eyed prince looming behind her. The exception was Aenys, who still managed to converse with her without drawing Aemond’s ire.

Her son, the offspring of the Rogue Princess, remarked with a flat tone during their conversation in her chambers (Aemond was away training with Ser Criston): "Mother, why is that one-eyed prince tailing you like a shadow these days?" The young man with golden-brown hair scowled. "I don’t like him... and he’s got Hightower blood."

"I don’t know," Viseara replied, though her tone betrayed her weariness. "But what I do know is that you should check on Prince Aegon and your sister."

"Ugh, Mother—you should see Cousin Aegon. Lately, Elia has been making him sleep on the floor!" Her eldest son’s voice held a faint note of pity, though she couldn’t deny Aegon’s behavior had shifted significantly since his marriage to Elia.

Before Viseara could respond, Maeria entered the room. Aenys greeted his twin sister casually.

"What’s new, Maeria? You seem swamped lately."

The young woman, dressed in a pale blue gown, rolled her eyes. "Swamped, indeed. Our dear mother seems to have stirred some trouble again—Queen Alicent has been glaring at me more often than not!" She dropped onto the seat beside her mother. "But I’ve learned a few things about Lord Larys through some friendly handmaidens I’ve befriended."

Viseara, ever cautious, rose to close the door before sitting back beside her daughter.

"Go on," she urged.

"The maids claim that Lord Larys often carries information to Alicent, spying at her behest in exchange for... certain favors. They wouldn’t say what those favors are, but from what I can guess, it’s something scandalous enough that the Queen would never speak of it aloud." Maeria folded her arms. "What do you think, Mother?"

Viseara’s brows furrowed as she tapped her knee. "I’ve always wondered... about the fire at Harrenhal years ago. Some whispers claim the blaze started inside, not outside as most believe."

"Someone staged it?" Aenys interjected. "But Harrenhal is cursed. No one questioned the deaths of the Strong father and son. And now Larys holds the title of Lord of Harrenhal, as Harwin had no heirs. Digging this up again seems pointless."

"The second sons are often overlooked," Maeria remarked, "but Larys gaining Harrenhal only strengthens the Greens. It’s a clear disadvantage for us—especially concerning our nephews."

Aenys ran a hand down his face, groaning softly. "What can we do? Rhaenyra and Laenor tried to smooth things over, but it was futile. It’s no surprise they struck an agreement with Ser Harwin. If the children had been born with silver hair, no one would suspect a thing. But with their dark hair, what excuse can we use?"

"Baratheon and Arryn blood," Viseara said suddenly, slapping her knee as if struck by inspiration. Her twins turned to her with raised brows.

"Baratheon and Arryn? Why those, Mother?"

"Rhaenys’s mother was Lady Jocelyn Baratheon—she inherited her dark hair from her father’s side. And Rhodrik Arryn, the father of Queen Aemma, was an Arryn."

"You’re going to claim that Rhaenyra’s three children inherited their dark hair from their great-grandparents?"

"Oh, Aenys, you understand so little."

"I’m trying, Maeria!"

Viseara pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, "The real problem is still Ser Vaemond, Lord Corlys’s brother. He’ll find any excuse to disinherit Lucerys from Driftmark."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Aenys rose to answer it, only to find Aemond standing there. He groaned inwardly but forced a greeting. "Dear cousin."

"Cousin," Aemond replied, his gaze shifting past Aenys to Viseara. "Am I intruding, Aunt? I noticed both of my dear cousins were here."

The eldest Celtigar son narrowed his eyes. "You come and go from my mother’s chambers quite often, cousin."

Viseara sighed at her son’s attitude. "Enough, Aenys. Maeria. Both of you, leave us."

Aenys opened his mouth to protest, but his twin sister grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the door. As they exited, Aenys shot a glare back at Aemond, muttering curses under his breath as he noticed the faint smirk on the one-eyed prince’s lips.

"Aemond, you—"

"Apologies, Aemond," Maeria interrupted with a nervous smile, "I’ll take Aenys to calm down. Feel free to speak with Mother." She shut the door, hoping her cousin only came for conversation.

As soon as the room was empty, Aemond sprawled onto the couch, resting his head on Viseara’s lap. She scolded him lightly, but he ignored her, clearly seeking comfort after his hours of sword training.

"Aemond."

"What is it, dear Aunt?" he murmured, eyes closed, his face nuzzling her stomach through her gown. "Can’t I rest here?"

"Go rest in your chambers, not on my lap!"

"My chambers are far away. Yours are closest to the training yard," he replied lazily.

What nonsense, Viseara thought, though she let him be.

Aemond’s thoughts drifted as he lay there. The age of Viseara’s children crossed his mind. They were older than him—close in age to his half-sister Helaena. The idea of them having a stepfather younger than themselves amused him. He smirked at the mental image.

"What are you thinking about, Aemond?" Viseara asked, her voice suspicious. "You’re smirking."

"Nothing. But if you want to know, I’ll tell you," he teased, his single eye glinting mischievously. "Do you?"

"Keep it to yourself!" she scolded, lightly hitting his chest. "If anyone hears, they’ll spread rumors."

"Then they’ll be Vhagar’s next meal if they dare slander you," Aemond replied, sitting up slightly to meet her gaze. His hand absentmindedly toyed with her hair. He finally noticed something—her eyes were mismatched: one violet, one deep blue.

"Aunt, do you know how beautiful your two-colored eyes are?" he asked, cupping her face.

"What? Are you planning to gouge them out?" she joked.

Aemond shook his head, leaning closer to whisper in her ear. "No. I was just thinking how stunning it would be if my children inherited eyes like yours."

This boy is too bold! she thought, her mind racing.

"Am I too old for you?" she asked, attempting to redirect the conversation. "You could marry Helaena. You once said you’d do it for duty—"

"That was a long time ago, Aunt," he interrupted, his tone firm. He leaned in closer, forcing her to recline slightly against the couch. His hands found her waist as he murmured, "And now, I only desire you."

Viseara acknowledged that Ser Gwayne Hightower was quite different from his father. His kind demeanor reminded her of her late husband, yet something about him made her feel he wasn't the right person for her. Dressed in a black gown embroidered with red sequins, the Targaryen woman longed to leave the gathering but pondered how to do so without seeming rude. She needed an excuse that was more convincing than simply walking away. After all, the man before her, with auburn hair, was the Queen's brother.

Her mismatched eyes glanced across the room and spotted her second nephew standing at a distance. Aemond leaned against the wall, arms crossed, staring at his uncle with his lone eye, his gaze unwavering. Viseara swallowed hard, involuntarily tensing her lower body as memories of the morning with her one-eyed nephew crept into her thoughts.

“Uncle! Come train with me!” Daeron's voice interrupted her reverie as the youngest prince ran toward them. Viseara offered a polite smile, playing the role of the ever-gracious aunt.

“Go on and train with our nephew, Ser Gwayne. Oh! Perhaps you could invite Aegon to join as well. It might help you bond with our eldest prince,” she suggested cheerfully.

Sorry, Aegon. I just need to escape your uncle.

As soon as the area cleared, leaving only the two of them, Aemond made his way to her. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a firm embrace, unbothered by the risk of anyone seeing them.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze and quipped, “Aōha laesi jurnegon raqagon someone iksos planning naejot ossēnagon aōha iāpe.” (Your eyes look like someone is planning to kill your uncle.)

Aemond hummed, his tone carrying a hint of mischief, before replying, “Nyke kȳvanon naejot gaomagon ziry raqagon nykeā accident, nykeā tepagon zirȳla naejot issa zaldrīzes naejot ipradagon.” (I plan to make it look like an accident, or feed him to my dragon to devour.)

“Aemond!” she exclaimed, lightly hitting his shoulder. Her protest only earned a pleased growl from him.

“Ñamar... Ivestragī's gūrogon nykeā kipagon va īlva zaldrīzes.” (Aunt… Let’s take a ride on our dragons.)

Her protests faded as his suggestion lingered in the air. His confidence and possessive charm were impossible to ignore, leaving her heart pounding with a mix of frustration and anticipation.

As their dragons rested contentedly side by side, the two riders sat against a tree a few meters away. The Targaryen woman absentmindedly braided a small section of her nephew’s long, pale blonde hair as he rested with his eyes closed, unaware of her actions. She froze when his eyes suddenly opened.

“How did you bond with your dragon?” Aemond asked, his voice curious but calm.

Viseara hesitated, not because she didn’t want to answer, but because the story was too embarrassing to share. She averted her gaze, but Aemond’s strong hand caught her chin and gently turned her face back toward him.

“Tell me. No one else has ever explained it to me.”

“Do you really want to know?” she asked, her tone teasing.

The genuine interest in Aemond’s lone eye was unmistakable. Sighing, Viseara finally began. “Well… I bonded with Nyx before I turned ten. At first, I wanted to claim Meleys, but Nyx caught my eye instead. She was only slightly bigger than me—well, for a child under ten.”

“And then?”

“So, I ran up and stepped on her tail,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

Aemond turned sharply to face her, blinking in disbelief. “You stepped on her tail?”

“Yes...”

“And she didn’t burn or bite you?”

“No. I bared my teeth at her until she relented and bonded with me. The dragon keepers and my father nearly fainted when they heard about it.”

“If I were your father, I’d have fainted too,” Aemond muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Viseara chuckled. “Do you know why my father and grandfather, Baelon, earned the title 'Baelon the Brave'? He got that title after hearing that his brother had bonded with a dragon. In a bold move, he ran straight up and punched Balerion the Black Dread on the snout, trying to bond with Aegon the Conqueror’s ancient dragon. Following the incident with Princess Aerea, the dragon keepers had to persuade him to bond with Vhagar instead.”

Aemond’s gaze softened with understanding. “Now I see where my madness comes from,” he murmured.

He glanced at Viseara before asking, “Did my father ever ride Balerion?”

“He did, but only once. By then, Balerion was so old that he could only manage three laps around King’s Landing before passing away. After that, your father never bonded with another dragon,” she explained.

Aemond nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to the reddening sky. “Have you ever been to Valyria?”

“Jaehaerys forbade anyone from going there, Aemond. Ships, men, and dragonriders alike are banned under penalty of death due to what happened with Princess Aerea,” Viseara replied, her tone serious. “Only King Jaehaerys, Septon Barth, and Maester Bennifer know the full details of her death, or what could have wounded Balerion so severely.”

The two shared a moment of silence before Viseara stood and stretched. “We should head back before your mother sends soldiers to tear the city apart looking for us if we miss supper.”

Aemond helped her mount her dragon before climbing onto Vhagar. The two returned to King’s Landing just as the Kingsguard began searching for them. As Viseara dismounted, removing her leather gloves, she froze at the sight of Larys Strong waiting by the stairs. She forced a cordial smile, though her hands instinctively clenched at the thought of what he had done to her father and brother—not to mention his manipulations with Alicent.

“Good evening, Lord Larys,” she greeted, her tone measured. “I’ve just returned from a ride.”

“Did you go alone, Princess?” Larys asked, his limp evident as he stepped closer. “Or were you accompanied by someone—”

“She was with me, Lord Larys,” Aemond interrupted, stepping beside Viseara. Without hesitation, he took her hand and led her away, ignoring the lingering gaze of the clubfooted lord.

Now safely in her chambers, Viseara paced while Aemond lingered nearby.

“Did he do anything to you?” Aemond asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head quickly but bit her lip, deep in thought. An idea had begun to form in her mind. If she truly wanted to deal with the Greens, she needed help—and who better than someone who knew their side as well as Aemond?

Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face him, her mismatched eyes gleaming with resolve.  “Aemond… would you help me with something?”

TBC.

[pupcarisi]

t4t4t barba, carisi & rollins threesome. how would that happen?

how would that happen or what would happen during the threesome? 🧐 (ok this got WAY OUT OF HAND AND LONG so i'm just talking about the build up)

if we take their onscreen relationship dynamics at face value (even if i think that rafael and amanda SHOULD have been close friends at the very least because of their similarities), then sonny would be the one who initiates their first trio 'hang out' for drinks at his place. i see this happening during the events of sonny's law school or just after he passes the bar. sonny has already established friendships with both of them (ok more assumptious on barisi end, but i think it's reasonable considering they spent time alone together—bringing up a deleted barisi scene here—there's no way sonny wouldn't have had tried having random non-law related conversations with rafael).

anyway, as the three of them have appeared working together alone on cases, sonny would just one day drop the invite to the both of them. although rafael and amanda have known each other for awhile now, they aren't close. but fuck it, they like sonny enough and know how much their friendship means to him, and well. they did like the energy and sass the other person gave. eventually, this routine becomes a thing for them, unwinding together, playing card and board games (because i think sonny would also have those). and through all these conversations with each other, i think there's no way the three of them wouldn't have slipped some tidbit of themselves that imply the fact they're not cis (e.g. sonny telling a long story, but in one small unrelated line reveals that he was in his school's basketball team. but he has forgotten that in another occasion, he had mentioned there was ONLY a girls basketball team in his school). these small details are unmissable, considering the nature of their jobs requiring them to pick these small things up, and well, when you're trans you just have this sense ANYWAY.... but they won't mention it to each other. it's just something they think and speculate in their heads alone.

ok so... how do things get spicy? sexual tension build up. come on, the way rafael looked at amanda and sonny when he first met them in their respective first meetings... i'm sure the three find each other attractive. and like tbh, not sure if you do these with your friends, but i know me and my friends love to have active discussions about our sex lives and preferences... LMFAO. so i think they just start yapping about this while being tipsy and learn WAYYY too much info about each other, which then turns them on and feel even more attracted to each other. they artistically talk about it without revealing their transgenderism ofc. idk i just personally feel like these three would be stealth out of safety reasons in their jobs, you know. i think the threesome starts off as a joke. like they have kissed each other for the shits and giggles, because what homies don't kiss.... *eye twitching*

ok so the idea is that they were discussing about what they WANT to try in bed but haven't had the chance to. coincidentally, rafael and sonny mention about wanting to try a threesome IN GENERAL, as a concept. amanda, being the goddess she is, of course had one before. they egg amanda to share more about how it went and this only intrigues rafael and sonny EVEN more.

i like to think that amanda is the one who suggests it, saying something teasing like 'hmm i wonder what it would be like with two hot men instead...' while looking at them suggestively—because her prior threesome experience was with two women. in which rafael and sonny have their each internal panic, because shit.... now what. sure, they had their '🤨🏳️‍⚧️❓' moments towards each other, but unfortunately, you can never be certain on how someone would react to you coming out. so alas, it has to be finally addressed. feel like sonny would be the one who blurts out nervously like FUCKIHAVESOMETHINGTOTELLYOUGUYS .... and then finally drops the bomb and they're like oh.... so..... and then they finally come out to each other and there's an awkward moment of silence. until someone finally chimes: 'so... are we still doing this or nah?' and the subsequent 'fuck yes i'm down if you two are' '....into it even more than previously, i have to admit...'

and then they fuck and have the messiest freakiest sexiest hottest threesome. happily ever after 😍🙏

[cephalofrog]

finished reading monstrous regiment

they weren't kidding that book can queer rep

spoilers below cut ofc

I kinda already knew about like... a queer relationship + trans character existing in the book but it still kinda caught me off guard - like I guess I shouldn't assume stuff to be generic from terry pratchett but I didn't know anything about jackrum aside from him being trans going in and it caught me off guard just how damn GOOD a character he is.

I'll admit I wasn't even certain that he was the trans character for a lot of the narrative, like I thought I maybe misremembered the posts or something cause surely the fat, extremely skilled, morally grey man with a lot of PTSD but who clearly cares deep down isn't actually gonna turn out to be a trans man right cause no one would write a trans character THAT interesting and good in 2003 and god dammit I underestimated terry pratchett so much. I am a fool.

the fact that he's like. no I don't want to reunite with my kid + grandchildren cause I can't stand the thought of just being their old granny cause he can't imagine a life for himself where he can exist as a man outside of needing to do so to survive then to have polly suggest it, giving him a new idea, letting him let go of not only the dangerous life of existing in the army but also giving him permission to himself to exist as someone's grandfather?? as a man, not because he has to, but because he wants to??????

god that final conversation between polly and jackrum is fucking perfect. I'll admit I need to consume more media centering trans narratives cause I don't really have a comparison point but it feels like the first piece of media I've ever consumed that honestly reflects how I feel about being trans. you don't need permission or a logical reason to exist a certain way - you're allowed to exist in a certain way just because you want to exist that way.

it's super impressive how deconstructive the book is - like it makes me wonder whether terry pratchett learned about queer theory prior to writing the book or whether he just developed the way that the book talks about gender of his own accord cause the entire damn plot hinges on the fact that gender is socially constructed and fully based upon perception. people see the characters as men, they treat them as men, and so they are men. the entire concept of men and women having some impossible-to-overcome differences is questioned, stereotypes are introduced and then used to disprove themselves.

I think the only thing that the book kinda dropped the ball on was maladicta's character - she gets a lot of focus and is super cool and likeable in the first half but I feel like she gets left behind a bit after running out of coffee, and I do wish there had been a more interesting conclusion to her being the last of the regiment to be confirmed as female (since we all kinda knew it was coming but for some reason it takes a long time to get around to it with no real reason since everyone knows everyone else is a girl at that point).

I'm glad polly and maladicta end up leaving on the boat together though. (they kiss after the book ends, terry pratchett appeared in my dream last night and confirmed it as canon)

[capcollector]

ahhhh Danse & Leon!! I don't think you ever explained what happens to finally spark their romance. like when they make everything official and drop the dumb mutual pining, how does that go?

i feel like it really just couldn’t be denied anymore after a certain point. leon was attracted to danse immediately, and i think danse started to realize he might be feeling something deeper after the BoS are driven out of the commonwealth. just this moment of looking at leon under the lights, thinking about how far leon was willing to go for him—someone he hadn’t even known for that long up to that point—it at least sparks these initial feelings of danse beginning to come to terms with the fact that he might be able to start over. leon helping him see that there is a life waiting for him. and then ofc them spending Literally every day together during leon’s first visit, danse showing him around areas in the commonwealth. and even though they don’t confess anything when leon has to finally leave, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes what’s going on. the two start actively exchanging letters and sometimes leon might be able to pop in for a short visit (re: the post i just self-reblogged).

but i think the moment they DO confess is during another surprise leon visit. they’re just sitting in the grass, watching the sun set, when danse finally says that he thinks about leon constantly when he’s gone. that he worries when the letters take too long, that something could happen to leon and he’d never know. he worries that each goodbye could be the last. he’s given this a lot of thought, and he asks leon if he’d be up for a traveling companion. a longterm one. outside the commonwealth.

and leon kinda laughs cus he knows exactly what danse means. he says he’s been alone for so long that he’s forgotten what it’s like traveling with someone, but a change would be nice.

leon leans in for a hug, and danse pulls him close. when they finally begin to pull apart, they’re both just struck by how badly they want to kiss each other, and they finally do.

i like to think the kiss gets a lil frenzied cus this has been a long time coming but they pull themselves together. both sheepishly laughing afterwards, but both absolutely beaming.

i don’t think there’s really any big declaration of “we’re dating now” to everyone mainly cus neither is one to really want a bunch of fanfare, but when danse had confessed to bunny that he wanted to travel with leon, she understood completely what he meant, and she’d known for a long time already they’d been pining for each other.

i think things become a lot more “official” once they’re actually on the road together. once they’re finally with each other and getting to experience all these things together, leon showing danse his world after danse had let leon into his.