#this has been on my mind for several days

[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Kind!Stubborn!Yuu x Jade, Trials and True love, there is enough proof that the twin would potentially wake up the prefect due to them genuinely being close, but there is still an anxiety about trusting one of the TWEELS until they DO actually wake up, maybe comedy if you'd like! Sorry if this is too much or little, had no clue how to word it

I havent seen anything where someone who wasnt a housewarden woke up the reader with a kiss so i was just curious how you'd go about it if you did pick this one up, have a good day! :]

True Love and Tribulations: Shock The Heart

(Jade x Kind!Stuborn!Reader (GN))

For the premise , please refer to this Drabble

Note: Indentions mean flashbacks; Reader is Yuu.

Also, excuse my Grammar.

This is the only Request I will write from the last time I opened my Request, as this is the only Ask that adhere to my specific rules.

Lastly, special thanks to @twstarchives as I took some dialogues from their translations.

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Summary:

“Oh my, you seem to have taken a fancy to me.”

“So what if I did?”

That was the last conversation Jade had with the Prefect before the "Sleeping Beauty"incident occurred. He is confident that their conversation that day meant something.

That the Prefect was hinting at him to really look at them.

And as he prepared his documents for the trial, he swallows down any form of doubts in his mind, determined to wake up you up with true loves' kiss.

If only it was that easy.

In the matter of Finding the Ramshackle Prefect’s True Love: The case of Jade Leech vs the Faculty council 

The antecedent facts are as follows, according to the testimony of Mr. J. Leech and the evidence presented:

Met the first time during investigation of Student Injuries (Testimony from C.Diamond,R.Rosehearts, and etc.)

Worked as a team during the Vacation break, fostered camaraderie (attached photos attached, similar photos of the same event posted in the Magicam of K. Asim, J. Viper, Ashengrotto ,F.Leech, A.Trappola, and D.Spade also submitted as evidence. Printed screenshots included timestamp, digital copy submitted in Flashdrive with links to Original posts)

The Prefect  and Jade are clubmates  in Mountain Lovers club,wherein  Defendant is the founder and sole member, joining in their own will.(Attached Fulfilled Sign up sheet, approved club member contract, listed in the Official club member list with stamp of NRC, all Original documents and timestamps)

Worked together in Monstro lounge, Yuu working there without coercion  (Original copy of contract of Employment, Original copy of payroll records, Original copy of Employee Group photos)

Has been seen together in the library in the past few weeks (Printed copy of conversations with dates, digital screenshots submitted in Flashdrives, handwritten scraps of paper detailing several meet ups also attached with copies)

Exchanged phone numbers (One screenshot, printed with copy)

Give gifts to each other (Letter of thanks hand written by the Prefect, Gift wrapper used, Origami paper animals and mushroom with Prefect’s thumb marks, a detailed forensic investigation attesting that it is Prefect’s thumb marks)

Photos of the  Prefect and Defendant together showcasing their camaraderie and closeness (Printed screenshots of images posted on Magicam, digital version submitted with links to Original Posts;10-20 pieces of Polaroid photos together, and an Affidavit attesting to the veracity of the images)

Scrapbook gifted by the Prefect (Thumb prints of Prefect present)

Defendant alleges that there exists a prima facie certainty that he and the Prefect have mutual romantic affiliations as presented in the gathered pieces of evidence and Testimonies.

Jade had thoroughly prepared for the trial, he also thought that the whole thing was a bit too much dramatic. However, he thanked the professors’ common sense or else, your lips would be tainted by just any man who thought they even had a chance with you. Just the thought of it fills his blood with so much rage, he doesn’t mind getting dirty but, the laws on land would restrict him for any vindication he would have sought to achieve if things had went in a different direction.

Jade looked down at the Prefect who looked expectantly at him. You tried to stand taller while looking up at him, trying to make yourself bigger unconsciously in front of his taller self. “Hmmm, I don’t know.” Jade teased, giving you a thoughtful look, his smile however bearing his intent.” I take my club activities seriously, not that I don’t think you won’t...However, I must warn you, if you cannot devote yourself to the club, you might as well swim along now.” Jade stepped back when he felt a poke on his side. He felt a hint of annoyance. For a moment, he had the urge to retaliate and attack you for violating his personal space. He reeled it in. “Trust me, I wouldn’t put my neck on the line if I didn’t mean what I wanted to do.” You explained, indignant. There’s a certain stubbornness in your eyes that makes Jade want to open up your head to know what you’re thinking. Still, he lets you speak your mind as the unexpected interaction begins to pump adrenaline in his veins. You were making him feel so many emotions at once, he can’t help but be enthralled. After you were done with listing down your qualifications, Jade looked down on you again. “Why do you want to be in my club?” he asks, serious this time. You grinned. “Just like you, I want to explore this magical world. Wouldn’t it be fun if we do it together?”

As Jade began answering the Professors’ interrogation he was beginning to lose any doubts he may have had about your intentions towards him, also maybe because he finds it easy to answer the council’s questions. He wasn’t lying about anything he had said or had written down, although maybe he left out some facts here and there. Some truths do not need to be known by the public, its between you and him.

“Well, everything seems to be in order.” Trein says, scanning the documents once again. 

More than a Trial, the entire thing looked like a staff meeting given that the whole thing occurred within Ramshackle’s lounge. The two  Professors all sat on the sofa near the stairs, while Jade sat on the opposite side facing the windows. The blinds were shut and the old Ramshackle lights kept flickering, Jade understands why the old building needed constant repairs. ” As for your witnesses, all testimony seems to be original.”

Vargas was outside the dorm, guarding the place, while Sam was playing substitute teacher to fill in one of the professor’s shoes. So there were only two professors he had to face.

While the old Professor looked over the documents again, the younger Professor scrutinized Jade instead. Crewel, with his discerning eye and watchful gaze, roamed his eyes over him as if he was a guilty criminal and not a student. 

Jade respected the Professor for his power, yet he still found it uncomfortable to be the tailend of the fashionable man’s observations. 

You got a taste of your own medicine, huh Jade?

“I enjoy observing people, however I get uncomfortable when it’s done to me. I suppose this would mean I’m shy?” “If you’re shy, then I am an Ignilhyde student.”

Jade almost cracked a smile, remembering you and hearing your voice in his head. It would be an outright lie to say he didn’t miss you. Stubborn and sarcastic you might be, he missed the sound of your voice. 

“I think I’d like to eat something light before exercising. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I tend to get hungry easily.”

You raised your eyebrow at Jade as you trekked up the mountains.” You didn’t eat?”  “Embarrassing to admit it, I may have gotten excited on the prospect of on a new hiking trail and forgot to eat my meal.” He admitted, feeling a little sheepish that he had to admit such a thing to you. It seems like Jade often loses his cool when it comes to his hobbies. He is now more used to his human legs, but it doesn’t mean he has entirely adapted to land, especially climbing up steep hills. NRC had banned certain areas from being within student reach,you, however, had managed to convince the Headmage to let the Mountain Lover’s Club go to uncharted territories. “Ah, well, here you go.” Finding a nice spot on the forest floor, Yuu settled down to sit, patting their side, beckoning Jade to sit with them. “ I packed some sandwiches. Hope you like tuna and vegetables, because that’s all I got and some chocolates.”  Jade was about to politely decline, he had packed his own food for the trip. “You are far too kind, however I— is that your sandwich???” The sandwich Yuu offered looked like a bunch of vegetables was dumped between two pieces of bread, if there was tuna meat there he would not know. The Prefect scowled at his reaction but still handed the thing to Jade, who was a little too dumbfounded to stop them from pulling him down to sit while simultaneously putting the sandwich in his hand.  It was surprisingly delicious, and could use a bit more tuna, however the mix of vegetable and spices made him bite back any comment he wanted to give. You began to explain that it was made from some herbs you foraged. “Did you like the food?” Jade was still a bit famished, but he did enjoy it. “Quite so, you must teach me the recipe some time.” You nodded, and there he saw mischief in your eyes.

“Sure, I got a favor though.”  Jade blinked. Jade listened as you explained that you got permission to go into the part of the forest because Crowley given you and errand, and you in turn took it as an opportunity to not only get to explore the place, but also to get Jade permission to explore with you. Now Jade owes you a favor. And you also got yourself a bodyguard on your outing. “Isn’t it fun to share your interest with others?” You say, as if you weren’t doing an odd job .” The Headmage didn’t give me a deadline, we can explore this part of the hills as much as we want. Killing two birds with one stone.” You say proudly. Badump. Another sudden jolt of excitement. For the entirety of that day, Jade and the Prefect went exploring the most enchanted part of the forests, both their eyes shining in enthusiasm as they took in all the wonders of nature. Jade could feel the buzz of magic in the air, and the Prefect reveled at the new discoveries, taking pictures with left and right. It seems like you weren’t losing energy any time soon.

You didn't bother Jade as he gleefully foraged some new mushrooms, it seems like you still had your sense of preservation intact to not interrupt him when he was busy. As soon as Jade stood up from his spot, he  found himself getting pulled into a photo, one hand holding a new mushroom he has discovered.  “ Smile!” you say, ghost camera raised up and facing the both of you. For the first time in a while, he gave a sincere sharp toothed grin without malice.

“Well, then, let’s let him in because he seems like the Perfect True Love Candidate!” Crowley declares in between the two professors, Jade forgot he was there for a moment, he never really spoke throughout the trial. He didn’t seem sincere either, he just seems like he wanted to get things over with and fly off to who knows where. Maybe he misses the Prefect, his errand person.

Jade wanted to pluck out those feathers off his and sprinkle him with lemon juice.

Usually, the trial would also be attended by the Ghosts of Ramshackle, fortunately for Jade, they had pre-arranged plans in the netherworld. Meanwhile, Grim, who had seen him enter through the dorms, flew out from who knows where.

The two professors looked at each other, then they nodded at Crowley. However, before the Headmage could speak, a small crowd barged in the room, with Professor Vargas trailing after them.

“We object!”

“Absolutely not!”

“This trial is a sham-NYAAHHH!”

Jade’s nonchalant facade faltered.

 Ah yes, your friends... 

Grim had called for back up.

Jade cannot fathom how you deal with your so-called group, maybe some of them were rational or interesting, like Jack, Epel, Ortho hell even Sebek was amusing. However, the two Heartslabyul friends of yours had been beginning to irk him. 

At first, the two seem to run away, willing to leave you behind whenever he comes over to chat with you about club activities. But soon enough, they began to be nuisances, pulling you away from him by making ridiculous excuses, all of which you shut down, so that you two won’t converse. It was amusing at first, but now it was getting on his nerves. Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade had been overprotective of you, dare he say both seem to be holding romantic feelings towards you. However, it is Jade you willingly approached to stay with and share your interest with the world.

If it was permissible on land, he’d show them a sample of how he got his earring.

Alas, land rules seem to be kinder than those of the sea.

And you wouldn’t like it if he does what's in his mind either, given your protective nature. You always seem more fearless when it comes to those you care for, and it doesn’t go well with Jade, the thought of you hating him.

Really, you attract such a rowdy bunch, it must be because you're too accepting of people's...quirks.

Jade stared at the gift you gave him, it was small enough to carry, however big enough to be used as a journal. All in all, it was quite portable.

“ It’s a scrapbook!” You declare with glee, he half believed you were gonna bounce any moment now with the whimsy in your voice but you didn’t. You were often quiet, but when you got excitable, it truly shows.  You two were in the library, as he was discussing with you the discoveries you found the last time you went hiking, identifying even the leaves you found on the ground. It was a regular briefing session after every activity.  You explained how Jade could preserve some of the plants he found, explaining the drying process of the flowers and the leaves. You also explained how it can help keep track of the discoveries, and is a more fun and novel way to record things compared to typing it up digitally.

“This will be our club’s legacy!” You cheered quietly, pulling him down by the hem of his coat as you whispered in his ear after the librarian gave you both a stink eye. “ We could put the photos I take here, it’s like we’re actual explorers.” Not a bad idea, Jade thought. It was smart and it made things more interesting. He doesn’t seem to mind working together to build a legacy with you.  The determination in your eyes sparked like jellyfish in the skies. Badump! Badump! “Very well, let’s work on ‘our’ scrapbook.” And so the two of you did, chatting over the phone over what to do, what to put in it, and the next club meeting’s topic. You even suggested putting in some recipes based on the plants you foraged, making sure that no one ever eats the one herb that got your tongue speaking gibberish for two hours straight. It's been awhile now, and Jade doesn’t feel like giving any snide comments when you unconsciously poke or hold unto him anymore. He seems to have found comfort in your presence.

The Professors have berated the unsolicited guests, however, with Grim vouching for them, and given their relationship with the Prefect, the two professors let them interrogate and cross-examine his evidence.

“ This is clearly fake!” Ace declared, holding up a polaroid photo of you and Jade in the forest.

“Yeah, fake!” Deuce and Grim echoed. 

Epel looked at the photo and gave it to Ortho who scanned it.

“It doesn’t seem to be digitally manipulated.” The flame-haired first year states. Ace and Deuce groaned in disappointment.

Epel didn’t harbor any ill will towards Jade, however he is still aware of what happened in the past with Octavinelle, as well as his sneaky ways. He just can’t let one of his friends be take advantage of like that. Jack echoes the same sentiments, however he is much more level headed than the Adeuce duo, he is simply there just in case the Eel-mer pulls off any of his tricks. So is Sebek, who seems to not want to be there, but still stays, he seems more alert than Jack, watching every movement of the Octavinelle student.

“This is forged handwriting!” Deuce says, unsure of himself as he raised one of the documents which was labeled to be in the Prefect’s handwriting.

“Proof?” Jade asks.

Deuce looked flustered and couldn’t say anything back. 

Jade’s suave smile returned.

They were just a bunch of fools who bark more than bite. Jade doesn’t really need to do anything as the unorganized bunch seems to be getting on the nerves of the professors, too.

Every photo, handwriting and evidence they pick up is confirmed by Ortho to be authentic, and with every confirmation the first year's confidence depletes.

It's just a matter of time.

The door got kicked open and Floyd walked in followed by Azul.

Jade sighed, exasperated. The professors and Crowley groaned and some of the first years stepped back.

“Jade~ We’re here to help or whatever! Hehe.” Floyd plopped to the space next to his brother.”This seems so fun, you should have called me in.”

Azul was much less flamboyant when he came in, apologizing to the others for their sudden appearance, smooth-talking his way so that the professors would let him and Floyd testify in Jade’s favor.

When you were desperate for money due to your meager allowance, Jade had convinced you to work for Monstro Lounge. In the past, you would have declined due to the last time you were coerced to work there, however, given your newfound friendship with Jade, you reluctantly agreed. Jade wasn’t subtle in his preference over you when it came to the staff, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t work you to the bone just like Azul did. And you were fine with that, for you had expressed that you take it as an insult to your skills when you are not treated equally as the rest. Still, you did not say no to taking some of the “wrong order” drinks that returned to the kitchen that Jade needed to dispose off, nor the meals that were a bit “burnt on the side” to be served. With you working in Monsto Lounge, you had more time chatting with Jade outside of topics of club activities. You were very chatty when it came to your hobbies, but you were a bit guarded when it came to your life from the other world. You were smart, Jade liked that. Still, as you two become closer, you began permitting yourself to tell him stories about your world, which he was equally intrigued in. In turn, however, you make him spill some of his stories from the sea.  Sometimes, Floyd gets so irritated when the two of you talk post-work hours when the lounge is supposed to close, as he wanted to go back to his room and sleep, that he just turns off the light on both of you.

Meanwhile, Azul cut off some madols from your paycheck to reimburse the “utility cost” you two use up when you stay a little late in the lounge.  You got so upset  by the pay-cut that Jade was tempted to leave Azul to fend for himself at the next lunchtime rush hour.  Oh wait, he wasn’t tempted, he did actually leave the lounge for a quick “break” during saturday lunch hour. It was a mess back there.

Azul learned his lesson.

Jade wants to strangle his brother right there and now.

Azul was able to word his story properly, highlighting the closeness of the Prefect and Jade when the former worked at Mostro Lounge. No doubt, he was killing birds with one stone.

First, he was showing the professor’s that his business and employees were doing well and not being subjected to unfair business practices because Jade and you had time to foster romance, and Second, by testifying for Jade, the eel-mer will owe him a debt of gratitude.

However, Floyd was a different issue. He answered the first years and professor’s questions without thinking of the way he is phrasing it, and Jade was not permitted to interrupt lest he ‘compromises the testimony’, according to Ace.

“Yeah, Jade is always thinking about Shrimpy. He has this whole notebook full of their info.”

“Like what?” Ace asks. Deuce looked ready to throw a punch.

“Likes, dislikes, blood type and all that. Sizes too!”

Shut up! Shut up!

Epel and Jack got a sour look on their face, and the professor’s look at Jade pointedly. Even Sebek, who also collects information about his lord, raised an eyebrow at Floyd’s statement.

“It was for club purposes, the Perfect has access to my information too. The Blood type is in case of emergency, and the size is for the club jacket.” Jade intervened.

“Nyah! You’re not supposed to speak!” Grim yelled, to which Crewel quietened him down.

“So anyways, Jade and Shrimpy seem to be very interested in each other and all that, Jade talks about them a lot and sometimes it gets very annoying.”

Jade will punch his brother after all this, he thinks.

“Oh yeah, he also has some of their things in his drawer!”

Sevens, Floyd shut up!

He was making Jade look like a crazed stalker instead of a prince charming.

Now even Azul gave  Jade a quick judgemental look.

“ He even glues the stuff Shrimpy gives him on his notebook and grins creepily, wahhh~ Really, it gives me goosebumps!” Floyd adds.

“ORIGAMI! THEY’RE ORIGAMIS THE PREFECT HAS MADE!” Jade blurted out, unable to keep his cool any longer.

It seems like everyone was taken aback by his uncharacteristic reaction. “ I’m sorry…ehem..” he tried to regain his cool. After a moment, he returned with his polished smile, eyes sending daggers at his brother for a quick second before closing it and addressing the others.”They’re origami art that the prefect made, it's in the ‘scrapbook’ I have submitted.” He points on the evidence on the coffee table, indeed there were origamis there.

Despite the chaos, Floyd was undeterred and kept talking.

“Ya know, Jade has been acting odd more than usual. He looks stupid, but he also looks happy.” the twin continued, this time his voice taking a more serious note.”He seems to sincerely like Shrimpy, he wouldn’t be here otherwise. There’s no benefit with sticking with 'em’ even if Shrimpy is a lil  bit fun, after all. He’s not stupid to be doing all these for flimsy feelings.” Floyd scratched the back of his head.”So just let my brother try waking em' up, he’s proved himself enough, and none of you even have a lick of evidence against him, just a bunch of useless ramblings.”

The room went quiet.

The professors, even Crowley, looked at each other and nodded.

“Mr. Jade Leech, let me guide you up.”

Jade and the Prefect found themselves caught up in the rain from their latest hike. Thankfully, there was a nearby cave they could take shelter in. “Are…you…alright?” You said as you scooted closer to the fire. Only your hiking jacket got wet, and it seems like your inner clothes did not. Still, it was particularly cold.  Jade had made a small fire and was setting aside his jacket to dry in the corner. The teal-haired second year sighed, he can’t believe you were asking for his condition when you were the one shaking despite being covered in a blanket.  You really were far too kind. Jade came from the ocean, he wasn’t susceptible to the cold as humans were, you knew that, but still asked for his condition. He smiled. “I am fine, Prefect, thank you for asking.” He put his hand on his chest and gave you a reassuring smile. Yuu rolled their eyes, then he beckoned him to come over to their side. Jade agreed, curious on what they intend to do. Once he is sat, you spread the blanket around his shoulder too, and huddled close to him.”So that..we…brrrr…don’t get as cold.” You say, your shoulder touching his. “I know you don’t like it when I ‘clingy’ , as you word it, but this time we’re talking about life and death.” The seriousness of your tone coupled with your trembling form, made him chuckle, you looked like a wounded animal.” Hey, I’m being…brrr..serious here.” Jade just nodded, humoring you. There was a moment’s silence. Badump! Badump! Badump! “If you knew I didn’t like it, why did you still approach me?” He asked, "It has always been in his mind.” Aren’t you afraid I’ll bite.” He teased, making a display of his sharp teeth. “I'd like to live, thank you very much”, you scoffed. Then your voice softened.”At first I didn’t mean to, it was a force of habit…however now…”you paused. Badump! Badump! Badump! You murmured something Jade didn’t catch, so he leaned down to listen. You turned your head and met his yes. “I don’t think I am afraid of you…” He heard a gasp. From him? From you? Who knows. You lean in closer. “Maybe you should be…” his eyes glazed over, the beating in his chest battling the thunder from outside. “Hmmm, but I think I’d like to trust you.” You whisper softly, he could feel your breath on his cheek. He feels goosebumps on his neck, and another kind of excitement feels him. Something akin to pure utter joy. “Careful, I might think you fancy me…” You grinned. “So what if I did?”

Nothing happened that night.

You two were rescued by the professors that day, and it was the last conversation he had with you in person given that your busy schedules prevented you from meeting up. He heard about you intending to clean your dorm, however, he didn’t mean that it would lead to all this trouble.

Still, it seems like it was worth it.

The feel of your lips on his was worth it.

When you awoke, you shot up from your bed to a seated position. Jade was barely able to dodge your sudden movement.

He couldn’t help it, he laughed.

You blinked your eyes, dumbfounded at the way he is laughing. His laugh sounded…nice…Maybe a bit evil sounding, but it was nice.

You touched your lips, remembering that you felt something soft land on it.

“What was that?”You ask, although you felt like you knew the answer.

Jade brushed a stray hair from your face, his eyes looking at you softly. 

He took your hand and laid a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

“The consequences of shocking my heart.”

End notes:

Word Count:4k+

That's a lot of words! I hope you enjoyed the Oneshot. I would like to hear youe thoughts in the Ask!-Quill

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience and understanding with the uploads. I've been working six days a week and have only one day to myself where I can do basic necessities like wash clothes and clean. My bedroom has certainly paid for it and so has my hobbies. (Or lack there of) I hope y'all enjoy this seeing young adult Aemond and reader! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Chapter Warnings: sexual harassment, dubious consent, bastardphobia, implied mental illness, lots of sexism.

The distinction between those we love and those we hate can be subtle. Both emotions are directed towards an individual based on their inherent qualities. Despite this commonality, they are often perceived as opposites. Loving someone entails wanting them to thrive while hating someone involves wishing for their suffering or transformation. However, love and hate can coexist despite their seemingly contradictory nature.

Six years ago, you experienced deep affection for an individual during your youth, believing that their sun-kissed hands epitomized kindness. However, after enduring years of distress, you discovered the unexpected capability to harbor animosity towards this once beloved person. This realization perplexed you as you contemplated whether he endured similar inner turmoil.

You hated Uncle Aemond for hurting your brothers the night at Driftmark many years ago and for not responding to your countless ravens who sought to apologize and keep broken promises. But because of the love that never ceased beating in your heart, you continued to create reasons for yourself to loathe him. Despite realizing your uncle would never respond, you still sent him letters with the blind hope that someday you would have one addressed from King’s Landing, though if one ever did come, they were from Queen Alicent, and in which you promptly fed them to the fish-eyed billy goats on Dragonstone.

The contents were of anything and everything you could think of. Sometimes, you retold important events like leaving to study at the Citadel and becoming a lady of Queen Esabella of Dorne as a temporary peace bargain for what happened in the Stepstones. Other times, it was your interests, such as a new plant or a medical technique, that you learned and thought would help him with his… ailment. 

Though you heard nothing from Aemond, that did not mean you knew nothing about him. You heard rumors that he took to putting a sapphire in his empty eye socket, and while the idea was sure to inspire fear in the hearts of many, it fascinated you, wondering if the gem was smooth and round or jagged and sharp, much like your uncle’s personality. It seemed like him to fashion something such as that as he was always a bit odd, though you never minded it. You imagined the discomfort his wound might cause despite it becoming scarred. From what you understood about those with similar injuries, the person could feel the severed nerves and tissue healing themselves, the sensation like a thousand hot needles in the skin.

It was no wonder why he was gossiped to have such a cold demeanor. You hoped one day you would be allowed to see it yourself, even if you were on the receiving end. 

Some of you worried that Aemond never received your letters, thinking you abandoned him and all the promises made in secrecy. Queen Alicent wouldn’t be the one to bar them from him as she most desperately wanted you to visit the Red Keep and mend the bond broken on the night at Driftmark. You didn’t understand why it had to be you to be the one to do so. These were matters created by the ruling adults in your life, and they should have sought to fix them.

Nevertheless, neither you, your parents, nor Queen Alicent tried to mend what occurred between the family. Still, that lack of effort did not extend to your relationship with your uncle. You still wanted to fly with him as you promised some years ago.

“The Conqueror and his sisters sailed with a great army,” Jacaerys translated from High Valyrian, his words proud but still holding a certain waver to his voice now that you weren’t there to assist him.

You stood by one of the tall metal-paned windows in the Chamber of the Painted Table in Dragonstone, the ancient seat of your family, silently mouthing the words of your ancestors’ histories spoken by the Maester in your mother tongue. 

The thick, gray clouds outside cast a dull light into the room, creating a somber yet peaceful atmosphere. You and your brother understood that your imposing maternal presence made him nervous and hindered his concentration. Over the years, you developed the habit of speaking over Jace during your studies. 

This hadn’t gone unnoticed, leading to reprimands from Maester Gerardys and your mother for not giving your twin a fair chance to learn. You only wished for Jace to be the best version of himself he could be. He was to be your King when Mother passed.

“Se Blākuata Rāsho drāñot vilinio viartis,” (And made landfall at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush) Maester Gerardys conveyed, his words slowed and accent thick to convey their meaning. 

The resounding echo of the chamber doors opening filled the air with the unmistakable clang of metal. As they parted, a graceful figure emerged—your mother, adorned in a flowing, vibrant red dress that complemented her regal presence. She moved with a poised and graceful stride, her hand tenderly skimming over her gently swelling belly, radiating an undeniable sense of maternal warmth and affection. Catching your gaze, you offered her a tender smile, and in response, she bestowed upon you a fleeting yet soft expression that spoke volumes of her boundless love without the need for words.

“Drāñot,” your mother asked Jace to repeat, but he stared at her wide-eyed, the words slipping from his mind.

Meeting your mother’s strides to greet her, you answered for him with a bright and eager-to-please smile. “The mouth.”

She flashed a tight-lipped grin and scrunched her nose, lightly nodding as Jace slouched in self-directed disappointment. “Mouth! I knew that, sister. You needn’t answer for me,” he expressed with disappointment, stomping his foot on the ground.

“If you keep speaking for your brother, he will never learn,” your mother lightheartedly scolded as she kissed the top of your head. You have heard those words for the past six years.

If Jace knew the answers, you wouldn’t have to help him, you thought reproachfully. 

You did not rush to pay attention to your twin as you knelt beside your younger brothers Aegon, Viserys, and Joffrey. Instead, you focused on the youngest, Viserys. With great tenderness, you gathered him into your lap, the book Elinda brought for them cradled in your hands. 

Leaning in close to your half-brother, you whispered. “I will teach you our mother tongue once you learn to speak,” as you lovingly smoothed the silky strands of his blonde hair.

“Drāñot. Drāñot,” your brother repeated, as if the meaning of Maester Gerardys’ words would magically appear in his mind.

“And made landing at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush,” you whispered under your breath so no one would hear, answering for him. 

You and Jace were the same age, two bodies with one soul, yet different. You could have helped him more if Mother had not sent you away. You never understood why she separated you instead of betrothing you to Jace. She constantly danced around the notion of marrying for years, which was incomprehensible, seeing as the match was the only option that would make sense. You would rule together, and the realm wouldn’t have the same unrest they did with your mother.

“Perhaps that is enough for today,” your mother offered as Jace became increasingly frustrated with his inability to master High Valyrian.

“No!” He exclaimed ardently, holding his arm as if to stop the suggestion physically. “I-I want to keep going.” 

You smirked and flipped the page in the picture book you showed Viserys as he babbled nonsensically, his tiny fists grasping the bound leather. As you touched his plump cheek, he smelled like tallow and lavender.

Your mother allowed Jace to proceed with the bob of her head as Maester Gerardys began again. “Guēsi ropakakson Āegon ūndas.”

“Aegon gave orders for the trees to be felled,” you responded as if the question was directed toward you. Your mother quickly snapped her violet eyes in warning. You were used to that look and continued to tend to the babe like nothing happened, as Jace answered with stutters. 

“Aegon… ordered that the trees should be… killed,” he stated proudly. You released a puff of air through your nose that sounded like a laugh as Viserys took the tome with tiny, curious, grabby hands. 

“Felled. ‘Tis a related word,” your mother gently corrected as she clasped her hands behind her sturdy back. “I don’t expect you to learn High Valyrian in a day, Jace.” 

“A king should honor the traditions of his forebears,” your brother steadfastly declared as you turned with your brows raised, spine cracking. 

“That sounds like something your sister would say,” your mother expressed with a slight tightness in her tone. Pursing your lips with guilt, you returned to Viserys, acting as if you weren’t paying attention. 

That was precisely what you said to him before your lessons today. 

“Unless you plan to depose your mother, you have plenty of time to study,” she teased with a grin like she always did, her happiness becoming contagious as you returned the look over your shoulder. Jace did not share the same enthusiasm as the chamber doors opened again, revealing that of your stepfather strolling down the steps. 

You looked to Daemon grimly as he met your mother with a grave expression on his time-worn visage. She declared that you all leave the room as he entered without looking further at you and your siblings. Jace called the young Joffrey to follow him, and you and your mother’s lady took Aegon and Viserys. As you passed your stepfather, he brought his hand out, noiselessly ordering you to stop while handing your mother the sealed letter in his fingers. He traced a calloused knuckle over his son’s cheek and placed a kiss on his crown, purple orbs piercing your dark ones.

He knew of your distaste for him ever since he wed Rhaenyra mere days after your father’s death, refusing to leave your rooms unless necessary. While you never felt like the Velaryon side of your family liked you, they agreed with the unspoken sentiment that Daemon had something to do with your father’s death. You disagreed with the idea that your mother did. She loved your father in her way and, in your mind, wasn’t capable of plotting the murder of her children’s father. 

You didn’t outright disrespect Daemon; after all, he was still a prince, but he would never be someone you looked up to or went to in times of strife. He would never be your father, not even as he irritatingly called you daughter and played with the new pearl and sapphire necklace your mother forced you to wear today—a gift from your stepfather. 

You understood Daemon only did these things to irk you, refusing to play with the ruse like usual. With no sentences exchanged between you, the Rouge Prince sent you on your way with his offspring wrapped securely in your arms.

“Another raven from Dragonstone, Your Highness,” a Steward announced, holding a rolled piece of parchment sealed with a delicate blue ribbon. 

The One-Eyed Prince sat in a green armchair by the hearth, seemingly unbothered, his lithe form in thought and leg crossed over the other. He did not move. His violet eye trained on the flickering orange and blue flames. No words of acknowledgment were said, and the servant placed the letter on the Prince’s foot table as he took a long sip from his goblet in hand. 

You were always stubbornly loyal to whoever you cared for, and he thought it rather pathetic, especially when you still sought contact from him after you were met with uncaring silence. 

On more than one occasion, his mother attempted to uncover what you said to him, Aemond discovering her rummaging through his writing desk drawers. He met her with an anger he had never felt before, as if she had stolen his most prized jewels. 

The Prince told himself that he didn’t care if passersby discovered them. They were inconsequential items containing meaningless ink, and he thought they were a waste of paper until she almost found them. Although he loved his mother dearly, this was something that was Aemond’s, untainted by neither her nor his grandfather’s fingers. 

He spent many hours pouring over the subjects you wrote as he battled with the urge to burn your writings, yet desiring to fly to Dragonstone atop the Mighty Vhagar and ensure the oaths you declared in the refined loops of your High Valyrian were indeed true. Aemond never did, only having gotten as close to Driftmark and spotted the glinting silver roof of High Tide before the suffocating feeling inside his chest took hold.

Blood, screams, and horror on your face as he clung to your chest before you crushed the childish hope of being different from the rest of them.

As the Prince grew, he found solace in places he never did before, frequenting the Keep’s gardens and Godswood with Helaena when he wasn’t on the training grounds. He was never fond of the outdoors, preferring the company of a good book curled next to a simmering fire, but he discovered that spending time in those areas brought a sense of contentment, though he was uncertain as to why.

Taking one last sip of his wine, Aemond sat his silver goblet and replaced it with the rolled parchment, licking the sticky remnants away from his lips as he untied the soft satin ribbon. 

“Uncle Aemond,  I hope this finds you in good health and spirits, as I cannot say the same for myself while writing this. I have overcome a recent bout of melancholia, as Maester Gerardys calls it, and now I’ve heard that Lord Corlys was gravely wounded during an ambush in the Stepstones. Insultingly, Ser Vaemond Velaryon has petitioned the Crown to declare him my Grandsire’s successor upon his passing. This infuriates me to no end. I know if my father were still alive, he would have protected him with his life, and we wouldn’t be having such a discussion. My younger brother will be the next Lord of the Tides since our father is gone. While we may disagree on specific lines of heritage, Luke is my father’s son, and I am his daughter. I find it ironic, however, that a place that haunts him, and you, he will now have to preside over. He shall be forever reminded of the great misdeed he infringed upon you, and I do find a sort of justice in it, but I would never dare to voice such a thing aloud. Luke is my brother, after all. I love him with all my being, but a part of me will never forgive him for what he did to you. I’m sure you feel the same.  Mother said we would attend the petition to affirm my brother’s long-decided succession, but we both know the actual cause behind this. I do not enjoy discussing these matters. It boils my dragon blood whenever the false rumors surrounding my birth are brought up. Laenor Velaryon is my father and loved me as such. ‘Tis a fact that will never change no matter what lickspittles and gossipers claim.  Oddly, despite its negative connotation and history, I eagerly await my arrival at the Red Keep. Do not think I am forgetful of you. You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. I hope to see you in good health and that my recommendations for your eye, which I’ve mentioned in previous correspondence, have proven useful.  Until we meet.”

Aemond did not know whether to throw your letter into the smoldering fire and watch the flames engulf the tan pages or to rip it into a dozen tiny pieces. He hated you. He loathed you with his entire being as he dangled the parchment over the orange and yellow embers, yet he could not will the rage in his heart to drop it as the heat burned his fist. Aemond welcomed the discomfort, the pain. He grew accustomed to and welcomed it until he felt the water beneath his flesh bubble. 

You were no more than a dirty bastard, a daughter of a whore, yet you flaunted riches like a Targaryen princess, unbefitting of your actual status. Aemond did not want to see you ever again, lest it be you groveling on your knees for his forgiveness. It was you who broke the vows and betrayed him, choosing your filthy, Strong brothers over him. He would never forgive you, though seeing you knelt before him as your pretty tears decorated your plump cheeks would be a lovely sight. The Prince felt his cock impulsively swell at the image. 

He abhorred you, yet Aemond meticulously placed your letter amidst a collection of others in an exquisitely crafted wooden lockbox adorned with intricate carvings of dragons. As he savored a deep gulp of wine, his gaze fixated on the flickering light evoked by your memories. It brought to mind the recollection of your unique grace, a quality that remained unmatched despite the countless attempts made by him and Aegon to find women of similar allure. The sharpness of his eldest brother’s words and the acrid scent of his breath lingered in his memory as Aegon leaned in on his thirteenth nameday.

“Worry not, brother. We’ll find one that looks like her for you. Time to get it wet.” 

Without hesitating, he flung his drink into the fire, extinguishing its voracious flames.

The ground was cold beneath your fingers despite wearing gloves as you pruned the small plot in Aegon’s Garden. Budding crocus dotted the moist area with tiny bursts of purple petals and green stems, withstanding the late winter season. Spring was a moon away, but winter refused to release its clutch on the land, leaving the dirt to keep the frigid dampness that few things could grow in. 

Aegon’s Garden was where you found yourself in strife, seeking peace and distraction in your passion. Now, with your mother’s nerves upon hearing that Ser Vaemond Velaryon decided to challenge the line of succession to the Driftwood throne, you felt the heavy burden of the future on your hunched shoulders. You felt bad about the whole situation, from your Grandsire Lord Corlys’s serious injury to the unspoken notion that Vaemond bringing this petition to the Crown was that Lucerys, and by extension, you and Jacaerys were illegitimate. The truth did not matter, not really. It was what those believed or those in power seats told those to think, and it was that you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were the offspring of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the King declared, you were next in line to the throne after your mother and Luke for Lord of the Tides after your Grandsire. His word was law, but it was no longer that of a King who sat on the throne but a Queen. 

“You should be readying for the journey, Princess. Your mother wants to leave at first light,” Edwina, your most loyal lady, stated. She stood with her broad shoulders squared, hair tucked underneath her white maid’s cap, and hands clasped behind her back. Though she was barely a few years your senior, she acted as if she had decades. 

You sighed, rolling your dark eyes in annoyance and sitting on your haunches. You supposed Edwina’s mothering was not unfounded, as your impulsiveness tended to lead you into regret. “I will not be joining my mother and Daemon on the ship. ’Tis much faster on dragon back,” you quipped.

“The Princess wants you all to arrive together,” your lady expressed, taking a few steps closer to show her seriousness. 

“To show a united front. Yes, I know Edwina. I could not go,” you teased, smirking, removing your leather gloves finger by finger. “I have no love for the Red Keep, my extended family, or them for me.” 

Edwina knew that was a lie. It was evident how she saw you pour over letters addressed to King’s Landing. The maid knew not who the intended recipient was, but there was someone who held a secret place in your heart. The Karstark often wondered if it was Aegon, seeing as a betrothal was whispered in the past, though that idea was quickly squashed after you had an uncharacteristic fit when she voiced it. 

“I understand, Your Highness, but duty is sacrifice. Those of your standing must do things in service to your House and family that are against your wants. I do not envy that,” Edwina offered with a half smile of pity as the pair of you entered the benevolent brimstone walls of Dragonstone. 

In response, you hummed, linking her strong arm in yours and lowering your head with a look mirrored hers. “This a small price to pay to live a life of privilege.” 

The lady nodded in acquiescence as pictures of the poor folk in line for their food rations showed in your mind. Your travels gave you a perspective that your family did not have, forcing you to confront privileges you were unaware existed until they were thrown into your face. You held a sinking feeling inside when you thought of it for days after, guilt gnawing at your heart every time you were draped in lavish dresses of Velaryon blue and adorned with lavish jewels. It sparked you to grow your plot in Aegon’s Garden when you finally returned home and give to those less fortunate despite the odd looks your family gave you. 

A similar heavy, sinking weight inside your gut returned as you thought of going to the Red Keep, seeing your uncles and Queen Alicent after what happened at Driftmark. Your guilt and shame felt as prominent as if you were the one who sliced into Aemond’s eye. You tried to reason that he deserved some form of punishment for hurting Baela, Rhaena, and your brothers, but it never worked. Your conscience was too steadfast to allow lies like that to blind you. 

Your mother planned on staying in the Red Keep for a night to spend time with her father and to renew her place at court. There was no joy in your heart to learn of her plans as you chose what dresses and jewelry to wear before supper. Though King’s Landing was once your home, it no longer held the wonderous warmth that came with a place of rest. Childhood memories spent there did not come with a smile when you thought of them. Instead, misery came to mind with lingering stares from adults and Aegon and Aeomnd’s relentless teasing regarding your birth. 

The cold, briny halls of Dragonstone were your home. Everyone loved you and your kin here, and there was no whispering behind silk fans wherever you went. The only gossip was if you would become with child before or after Princess Rhaenyra betrothed you and Jacaerys. 

After you supped with your brothers, mother, and Daemon at night, you lay within thick furs that threatened to let the frigid midnight air in. When you woke to leave, the ground would dust with the crystalline covering of frost, and you knew how Gaeli despised the cold. He would fly at your command regardless, but you would undoubtedly feel his displeasure until he resided in the heat of the Dragonpit.

This petition felt like a dark cloud looming in the distance of a clear sky, promising its threat of a storm as you soared over Blackwater Bay. Despite your mother’s insistence that you ride on the ship with her because of her pregnancy, you choose to take Gaelithox across the water. In turn, that caused your brothers to want to take their dragons to King’s Landing and leave your mother to make the journey with only the comfort of her husband, which you were sure she didn’t mind. 

It was customary for the family to make an entrance together and be greeted by the host’s kin, but when you emerged from the wheelhouse that took you from the Dragonpit, its dark caverns still the same, you were greeted by only guards. The lack of forethought and the apparent insult of the Green’s absence sent an icy feeling into your gut, causing you to itch at the skin beneath your black dress. 

The gown was not your typical style choice, as it was your Velaryon blue and pearls, but your mother wanted you to wear one of your garments fashioned in the Targaryen colors of black and red with a golden linked belt and rubies to match. She planned to present a united front before the Court and the Greens and, without it said, further solidify her and your siblings’ legitimacy to the throne.

As you stepped out of the carriage with an encouraging inhale, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, along with the nursemaids carrying Aegon and Viserys, followed after a chill running through the air. You brought your fur-lined cloak closer to your goose flesh arms, shuddering as you observed the Red Keep in all its grandeur. It was as big as you remembered, looking at the tall pale red stone towers, windows, and colliers. You felt small, the unmistakable burn of tears under your eyelids, your nose beginning to run as memories from six years ago flashed inside your mind’s eye. 

Luke and Jace came to stand behind you, taking note of your trembling lip and pink cheeks. The youngest of the two was filled with the same anxiety as you and quickly took his hand in yours—a united front. They did not know why you were shaking in your riding boots, squeezing Luke’s fist for comfort as Lord Caswell led your family inside the front gates. 

While the red and black banners of House Targaryen were raised on the Keep’s walls, it seemed to be House Hightower that occupied the castle. The Seven-Pointed Star was everywhere you looked throughout the halls that once were Harold with the tapestries of flying dragons, riders bounding with their mounts, now those of the Seven, holy pictures of the Crone and her guiding light, the Maiden with her pure, ethereal beauty, and others of religious importance.

It reminded you of your time in the Citadel in Oldtown, the ancient seat of House Hightower, who aligned themselves closely with the Faith of the Seven. Your family’s relationship with the Septons and Septas was strife until the late King Maegor ruthlessly crushed the Faith Militant Uprising. However, during your stay, you heard whispers from passing Lords and Ladies that the animosity supposedly vanquished long ago was still there, simmering below their fear of House Targaryen and their dragons. 

While the Seven did offer you something to soothe your soul in times of unease and explain unanswered things, it didn’t provide you consolation seeing it paraded around grotesquely in place of your House’s history. It churred the feeling of anxious dread in the pit of your stomach as your brothers eagerly left your side to explore the long-forgotten Red Keep. 

“I would say it’s nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,” your mother said, a slight lilt to her melodic voice and sharing a knowing glance with Daemon. 

You stood closely by her side, moist lips tucked in concern as you observed your stepfather’s butter smirk walking before the two of you. You and your mother stayed unmoving for another moment to allow the situation to settle. The abrupt raven, Lord Corlys gravely injured, Princess Rhaenys traveling to King’s Landing, Luke’s legitimacy loudly called to question all happening within a few days was more commotion than you had within the entirety of your stay at Dragonstone. It was a wonder you hadn’t plucked at the hairs of your Crown, your digits twitching and coming to scratch at your scalp.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the air, unable to name the sensation as you turned to your mother, whose beautiful violet orbs were trained on a series of portraits of your kin. While your King grandsire, stepfather, mother, Queen Alicent, and her children were there, your siblings were not, leaving only the elegant, rectangular golden frame of your countenance in the places of your brothers. You felt your heart drop and glanced at your mother with wide, curious eyes. 

This meant too many things. Not only was it an insult to your mother and siblings to have all but their pictures, but the fact that it was only you there out of the six of you. It was no doubt Queen Alicent’s doing as you forced yourself to swallow a lump in your throat. The tears you kept at bay reemerged as your fingers dug under your black mesh veil, rolling the fine dark hairs at the nape of your neck between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.  

Swiftly, your mother took your wrist, soothingly rubbing your knuckles as she gave you a brief yet wistful smile. “Why don’t you find the Godswood, yes? I shall meet you there shortly.”

You bobbed your head stiffly, willing your tears and trepidations to quiet as you rubbed at your damp lashes. “Yes, Mother,” you responded in kind with a sniffle. 

You found yourself within nature as you always did in times of strife, gazing up into the crimson leaves of a Weirwood, the soft rustle of branches reminding you of inaudible whispers. They were hard to make with the sky’s brightness, only to see the fuzzy outlines with the gray clouds, but they comforted you. The Old Gods watched you with their unseen eyes as your fingertips traced the rough bark grass crunching beneath your boots.

The Godswood was the only place within the Keep’s grounds that did not cause you significant stress, as only fond memories of your times with Helaena catching insects and playing games with Jace and Luke filled your mind. You had no desire to return to King’s Landing despite being away for so long. It felt as if no time could heal the irreparable wounds caused within these walls and the person who did it. 

Many rumors spread throughout the realm and to your little island of Dragonstone from the smallfolk, whispering that Prince Aegon’s appetite for depravity did not curb after his marriage to Princess Helaena. The people said it increased tenfold as the Prince was spotted frequenting the gambling houses, brothels, and illegal fighting pits. It seemed fitting for your eldest uncle’s character to become the worst of something he was supposed to make the best of. 

You could only think of the innocent children sired into this world without their mother’s consent and then put into the fighting pits so that Aegon and other highborns could have their entertainment. When you are Queen, you shall kill every man or woman who dares to share the same interests as your uncle. You would not willingly allow such depravity under your rule. No amount of coin from such establishments could be worth it to keep the economy afloat.

The soft crunching of late winter grass caused you to jump, tearing from your thoughts as you turned to see your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys. You bestowed her with a deep curtsy and smile, coming to greet her with open arms. 

“Grandmother!” you called with unspoken joy in your tone. “Tis a pleasure to see you after so long.” 

She extended a tight-lipped smile that looked like a grimace, and you felt deflated. “I wish I could share the same unwitting joy you do, seeing as my Lord Husband lays battling with the Stranger.” 

You lowered your arms with chagrin and took a few paces back as you felt the sting of tears resurface. “Apologies, my lady. I did not mean for my joy at seeing my father’s mother to make light of the gravity this day brings.” 

She chuckled wryly at your words, shaking her head as she looked to the Weirwood tree behind you. Following her gaze, you moved from her path as she took steps forward. There were so many things you wanted to say to her, to scream to her how much you loved your father and wished for those involved with his death to pay as you twirled his signet ring on your middle digit. 

Princess Rhaenys looked to you in the serene noiselessness of the Godswood, the chill in the wind causing you to shiver, gaze drifting to where you worked the gold around your knuckle. She said nothing with her mouth. She needn’t, as you could see it written plainly in the deep wrinkles lining the corners of her eyes. The Princess felt the same but would never admit it aloud to a… bastard. 

“I shall leave you in peace, Princess,” you bowed again, walking with less brightness into the Keep as you left the one person you could speak about your father to.

You felt like an imbecile for what you said, even though any grandparent should feel the same glee you did at their grandchildren’s arrival. A hot wave of embarrassment seared your insides, causing you to dig the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, ripping your veil off in anger. You didn’t care about the beautifully plated hair your ladies created, scraping your nails into your scalp to feel the threadlike texture of your bothersome strands that ached to be released as you ran blindly through the stone halls. 

There had been times when Aemond had forgotten who you were, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, who your birth father was, and the sweet kisses you bestowed on him alone in his chambers. That is why he reasoned that he was surprised to see a woman grown and no longer a girlish figure with a short, flat torso and legs. Instead, it was a lady with the slope of your neck dripping with rubies and dragonglass barely hidden beneath the crevasse of your swelling bosom. 

Your eyes were all he could think about from the moment you emerged from the second wheelhouse. A scared, almost dovelike look to them as he watched Luke and Jace come to your side. 

Good, he thought. You all should be terrified. Yet he did not hold the same conviction as his stare drifted back to you.

The Prince thought you were so small and fragile from a distance as he observed you leave the Godswood, an arch to your dark brows that seemed to be in pain. He thought there should be nothing within your perfect ideal life to be so torn about and wanted to give you a reason to be upset. Aemond planned to spit all the vitriol he held within these six years as you rounded the corner, and yet, as Aemond held you within his bruising grasp, you stared at him with such fire beneath unshed tears. 

The passageway Aemond cornered you into carried a chill seeping in from the outside as he saw your cheeks redden in ire. Your moist, plump lips slightly parted to breathe as he dug his blunt nails into your biceps. He felt his breeches become impossibly tighter as you swallowed, darting your pink tongue out in nervousness, much to his frustration.

Aemond was no longer the sun-kissed Prince with wide amethyst eyes full of light. His plush, boyish face had slimmed in the time lost and turned into one of hardened maturity with a sharp nose and chiseled jaw that came to a point with thin pink lips. His countenance resembled the statues you saw in Dorne as you felt his strong hands dig into your muscles like he wanted to tear at your essence. You felt your body weaken against your will, succumbing to the emotions you felt for your uncle in your youth, but resolved to stay firm against his intimidation. There were still hints of the Aemond you briefly knew in your childhood, the one that kept that night a secret still to this day.

“Unhand me, Aemond!” you spat as if he had swiped filth across your face, a deep wrinkle on your forehead.

Aemond wanted to laugh despite your seriousness as he pressed you further against the pale red stone wall, uncaring if Princess Rhaenys heard your cries. You dropped your headpiece in your struggles and attempted to retrieve it before your uncle’s piercing grip righted you again. 

“Must I?” he quipped, his stomach churning with excitement as the familiar scent of citrus and something darker wafted into his nose. “You’re a strong lady. I’m certain you can overpower me.”

Aemond allowed his gaze to roam over your face as you scoffed with a squirm. He wanted you to be ugly, for you to become the personification of all the wrongs your family committed against him, to be the picture of the betrayal he felt for you choosing them over him on that dreadful night. Up close, he unwillingly realized you were what the smallfolk claimed you to be. The picture of the Maiden though he knew you were anything but. Aemond wondered what they would think should the people discover your true nature.

“You believe yourself a true Velaryon, do you not? The Old, the True, the Brave,” he asked, his voice low and menacing. His face was so close to yours that you could see the intricate stitchings of his brown leather eyepatch. You wondered if he wore his sapphire today. “Your hair is decorated with gold and pearls, fingers adorned with jewels, and wrapped in lavish dresses. Yet beneath all the decadence you wear, you are still nothing more than Strong.” 

His insults meant nothing as you realize your uncle felt the same inner turmoil. Why else would he speak such prose of your being? He loathed and loved you in the same breath, something he fought to keep inside.

“Do not hide behind cruel words, Aemond. I see you as you are.” A delicate hand came to cup his marred cheek, the smooth pads of your fingers tenderly stroking the plunging indentation through his skin. You wished to get through to him, to tell him that despite the rift between your families, you cared for him. He could still be your Mors Martell.

The Prince felt himself crack, an unconscious twitch of his lip that he disguised as a sneer. Aemond felt a sensation he fought to keep at bay since he was disabled, struggling to hide the way memories from long ago clouded his mind. Instead, the Prince focused on how you inhaled a sharp breath when his hand left your arm and came to your face, jerking it towards his as Aemond lost your tender touch. He would swear upon his death that he saw your eyes dilate a fraction too much for it to be the shadow of the torchlight. 

Wondering then if the rumors were true that you and your twin had a closer relationship, he brought his other fist to encircle your waist, trailing it down the back of your plump thigh until he forced it to wrap around his hip. A part of Aemond was sure you would scream for help as you did when he found you with Aegon, but no words escaped your moist lips.

“You hurt me, my light. Can I not simply bask in the presence of my long-lost dream?” he mocked and realized that he might have gone too far as he felt your body stiffen and face blanched. The expression on your visage reminded him of the times he saw wounded soldiers return from minor village uprisings, the bloodshed changing their perspectives. 

The Prince understood that there was no returning from what he said, seeming to have flipped an unseen switch inside you at the mention of his mother’s petname for you. Your lips began to tremble on their own volition, and you abruptly noticed the striking resemblance between Aemond and his older brother. The most venomous expression you could muster curled onto your face, hiding your fright and not allowing him to hold power over you any longer.

“Don’t insult my intellect, Aemond. I know what disgusting thoughts play inside your mind, and they intimidate me for naught. You are more alike to Aegon than you allow,” you jeered. You knew what to say to wound him, to compare him to his wastrel of an older brother who raped innocent serving girls and his kin.

Unable to help your wandering eyes, you watched how your uncle’s pink tongue moved within his mouth, how the wetness glistened with the flick of his ire. 

“And what of you?” Aemond rebuked. “You cannot simply only be close siblings. The dragon’s blood runs thick and even more so between twins.” 

You were silent, leaving only the faint rustling of nature in the distance wrapped around the pair of you like a rope, tightening against your skin and pulling you and Aemond closer. Despite the frigid weather, it became hot, sweat collecting on your upper lip and nape. All Aemond could hear was the fierce rhythm of your breathing, his eye wandering down to the elegant necklace perched on your chest.

“You spout baseless, vile accusations of your kin that have made lesser men lose their lives,” you rebuked, fists coming to clutch at his jerkin and wrapping your digits in the green leather as if you meant to fight him.

“Perhaps,” he breathed with an air of superiority, “but I don’t believe it to be treason to question your morals,” he replied coolly, his light brow quirking with his tone of practiced impassivity. 

The Prince was stunned into silence when your tiny, delicate palm echoed off his marred cheek. It was not the force that shocked him, but rather the notion that you did it despite the threat of violence.

For a brief moment, white, hot pain seared at his left temple and into his skull as he turned to you and saw an expression of regret. Aemond felt the heat on his cheek and smirked. He knew you intended to hurt him by striking him on his injured side and now understood how to cripple you as Luke did him. It would always be your beloved family—your weakness.

The lamb bit as fiercely as the wolf, Aemond mused. You may not be as frail as he thought.

Excitement curled the Prince’s toes at the whimper that escaped your lips as he used his strength around your throat, perfectly styled hair fraying on the stone. Your once flat irises now burst with life as they darted across Aemond’s lean form in brief terror, a proud grin wrinkling his eyes.

“You ignorant bitch,” he declared, pressing himself closer, his hand firm around you despite attempting to pry them off. His other limb reached down, shifting you to the tips of your toes as he dropped your leg. Though fruitless, he reveled in the terror that washed over your features as you attempted to fight him. He wouldn’t dishonor you, but all that mattered was that you did not. 

Aemond felt disgusted at his actions, believing for a moment that you were right about him, that he was indeed the same as Aegon, yet in different colored clothes. 

“I’ll scream. Just as I did that night.” 

“Then do it and let the whole Keep think worse of you,” the Prince mocked, bearing his white teeth. “I shall say it was you who seduced me, and who will they believe? The King’s second son or the bastard daughter who fucks her brother?” 

He could feel your humid breath against his face, fanning the spot where you had struck him. Aemond stared at this vicious yet adored creature in his grip as he concealed his insecurities with the intimating tilt of his head as if examining a new book. His violet eye traced the ink, waiting for your next move. The Prince would have you think him to be Aegon if it meant fucking his spend into you no matter how undeserving you were of it. Perhaps you would finally see what the true seed of a dragon looks like. Aemond grinned with his unspoken words and felt satisfaction with the anger he stoked in your eyes. 

“You will let me go. Now,” you demanded, pushing against your uncle as you struggled for purchase.

“And then what will you do? Run? Men in King’s Landing are not as kind as I when they see a distressed lady.” Your jaw ached, feeling like a rabbit cornered by a fox as a familiar and unwelcomed primal warmth blossomed between your thighs. 

You wanted to threaten him, to say that you would feed Aemond to your dragon or poison him in his sleep, but nothing came to mind besides the smell of too-sweet wine and the taste of dried dates. Memories came from that night, as you felt yourself becoming faint, the will to fight to leave you just as it did with Aegon as powerless tears welled on your lashes. You were a fool to think Aemond would see past his injustice for the sake of the past and resign yourself to whatever fate he chooses for you. 

There was no point in fighting. Once again, you were at the mercy of your uncle, and you only prayed that this one would be gentle.

The Prince no longer felt proud of his actions as he watched your body recoil into itself. There was something in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t name as he looked between them, feeling himself slowly pulled into their depths as he did the night after Aegon. The Prince wasn’t going to hurt you, not really. He was young and foolish, but not to the extent that he would commit an act of one of the highest sins.

As if the mother herself took mercy on you, the soft murmur of voices down the hall echoed into your and Aemond’s ears. You could not hide your smirk as he stared into you with a deep scowl on his porcelain face. Whatever plans he had, they crumbled like dead leaves underneath your boots as your mother and step-sister came. Taking his momentary distraction to your advantage, you shoved against the hardened planes of his chest, your sudden rush of strength knocking Aemond off balance as you retrieved your forgotten headpiece. 

Soon, they came into view, their destination no doubt being that of the Godswood as you fixed your disrupted attire. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your plump cheeks as you saw your uncle’s scowl, taking a few paces to reach them. You seemed the proper princess to the outside, greeting them with a quick embrace and your chin high.

Rhaena acted like Aemond wasn’t there. Only the uncomfortable shift of her shoulders revealed she noticed him while your mother extended a short but polite acknowledgment before he stalked away without proper dismissal. 

“What did he do to you?” your step-sister pointedly questioned, scanning your form for any injury.

You looked at her in what you hoped was a confused yet grateful expression and not one of guilt. “Prince Aemond merely wanted to make amends for the lack of presence at our arrival. I do not believe him to be sincere.”

Your mother smirked her delicate peony lips, releasing a scoff of disbelief as she shook her styled hair. She closed the space between you and tenderly grasped your shoulders as she scanned your form for injury.

“Do not let them get to you. They seek only pride and glory,” your mother declared steadfastly, a vibrancy you had never seen before in her amethyst eyes.

Nodding in acquiescence, you extended another brief embrace before you excused yourself, wanting nothing more than for this day to end as you went to search for your brothers. 

You needed Jace—to feel the comfort only your twin could give after facing the scars of the past. Before reaching your destination, you felt an iron-like grip across your upper arm, pulling you into a secluded alcove. You feared the worst, that someone planned to harm you and that your last words to your mother would be lies.

“You are quick, niece,” Aemond whispered haughty into your ear, causing you to drop your headpiece in fright, “but that quickness will do you no good in King’s Landing. Your whore mother has no hold here.” 

Just as quickly as your uncle took you, he released you with a shove. You wanted to bite with some clever or witty remark but thought of none. Tears of embarrassed frustration welled in your eyes as you spun on your heel, ignoring the tickle on your wrist like something had touched it.

As Aemond watched your womanly form retreat, dark eyes trailing over your curves, he did not feel the satisfaction he believed the interaction would create, spotting your discarded veil on the flagstone floor. He stared at it for a long moment, tracing the intricately sewn beads as he picked it up. 

Unsure of what came over him, he brought it to his nose, the scent of citrus flooding his senses and into the blood that engorged his cock. He was able to appreciate the feminine quality of your fragrance fully. Your aroma was refreshing and rounded, sweet but complex and deep simultaneously, similar to the limes that garnished drinks during the Keep’s summer gatherings, but with floral, herbal, and resinous undertones.

With a guttural noise, the Prince tightened his grip on the headpiece, channeling all his hatred towards your family into his clenched fist and tucked it into his jerkin. He swiftly went to the training session with Cole, hoping the knight wouldn’t see through his façade before witnessing the impending downfall he believed your family deserved. 

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Sooooo, what did we think about their reuniting? Just two mentally ill and horny young adults. XD I originally wanted the whole meeting with Aemond again, the petition, and the dinner scene to be all in one chapter, but that was waaaaaay too much. I split them up to get those infamous scenes in the next chapter. I'm excited. It's gonna be juicy!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading! (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

I wanted to briefly give credit to @targaryenrealnessdarling, and their fic The Blood is Rare for inspo of the setting when Aemond and the reader meet for the first time. However, I did change things to make it my own. They have a lot of Aemond fics that will surely quench your thirst as y'all wait for the next chapter. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , *@p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna

*bold means I can't tag you for some reason ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

[hi-sierra]

Tortoise Storytime!

For most of his life, the scale burger lived in an enclosure that was about 7.5 square feet (~0.7 square meters). This is usually way too small- but he lived in a facility that always had someone on staff, letting him roam the floors while they worked on something nearby.

During covid, I worked at this reptile facility to replace workers who were higher risk and staying home. And I feel deeply in love with this lil bean of a tortoise. He was incredibly vibrant and friendly, was so habituated to humans that he didn't even have an instinct to retract into his shell, and was just flat out adorable.

A year after moving away for my PhD, my old boss reached out to me and asked if I could provide a good home to any of the animals. I instantly asked for this guy.

Unfortunately, I absolutely felt like I made a mistake for a while. I quickly realized that, as busy grad student that worked during the day, I couldn't be letting him roam outside of his small enclosure all the time. For the past year, I've been doing the best I can, experimenting with small enclosures, outdoor time, and floor time to best address his needs. But it always felt temporary and subpar.

As a Russian Tortoise, he has a partial hibernation cycle. For some weird reason, his is inverted with the actual seasons. So when he settled down in the late spring and started pseudohibernation, I could breathe easy for a bit. I left him with some caretakers over the summer, who didn't have much trouble with a sleeping tortoise, and went around having my adventures.

But I knew I wanted something nice waiting for him when he started being active again.

Introducing: the tortoise palace

I had several things in mind for a new enclosure. I wanted it to maximize space in my apartment, maximize my space in my apartment, and have somewhat easy teardown in case I have to move. So, I lifted my bed to be about 4 feet off the ground, and made the enclosure under it. The entire setup is in latched-together pieces that can easily be taken apart and set up again.

I've added climbing enrichment in the form of garden bricks, rocks, and multiple forms of substrate (orchid bark as the main, reptibark, coco coir, and rabbit pellets in deeper dig boxes) but I'll be adding more as time goes on. He's been loving climbing around and I can't wait to see what he'll do with other stuff.

It's an ongoing project, and there's a lot of "temporary solutions that are kinda-permanent" in here, but I'll be fixing those over time. Notably, the walls are pretty low- he can't get out, but I have to be cognizant of putting things he can climb on near the edges. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm all ears! But for now, here's the beast, his unfathomable power just barely contained.

Tiny bit of emotion under the cut.

I know this is dumb. But finishing this genuinely made me cry a little.

I've felt so bad about keeping this guy in what I know is a subpar environment for so long, and doing the best I could to keep him happy and healthy within it. But it was always barely keeping my head above the water.

And now, I finally feel like I have a good, permanent solution to it. This design, by definition, will fit in the space of a full sized bed in any place I live in the future. I feel like I finally provided something good for him. I know he's just a tortoise, but I really do love him, and I love seeing him happy and safe.

Idk. It's all rambles. But thanks for loving and appreciating the wonderful critter he is <3

[destinationtrekk]

young wesker who gets drunk and giggly with reader. at first he had been so... cold, so expressionless and absolutely cluelessly bone-dry on how to go about doing anything but a daylight two-step move-his-arms-a-little to the dance music blaring from somewhere, but that's okay, reader can show him.

and he enjoys it... and he's laughing, and his face is flushed, and the scent of vodka is deep on his tongue, and he has severely miscalculated his drink, but that's okay, because reader keeps him safe and happy and distracted the entire time.

at the end, as he begins to sober up, they can't seem to get out of him where he's supposed to go to now (perhaps he is trying to revel in it, this one normalcy, just one event he took on to learn how to behave like everyone else and got taught more about himself and his own interests than he'd ever planned, a snapshot of a life he could have lived if only--) so they take him back to their house and snuggle him up in a blanket burrito on the couch, making him drink water, take an advil, a tylenol.

and as he gets back to himself and they smoke a cig, talking about life as he gets rather quiet and inward again (for he cannot share, he has nothing positive or appropriate to), they do something unexpected and yet wholly welcome, a gift to close out the night: they give him a quick, brief and fleeting shotgun kiss, hand warm on his cheek, before they send him off for a nap, telling him to stay the night so he'll be well and sober the next day to depart. free breakfast if he's still around by then, otherwise, they take no offense.

he has no way of telling them the truth of this fragile matter. he has no way of divulging his life, which would undoubtedly ruin whatever scrapbook memory he is currently creating, and certainly no way to hold onto this awfully pleasant being who he can, apparently, trust in his total ineptitude with heavy inebriance. and he can't keep seeing them again after this. and his view on how ruthless and manipulative human beings are when faced with vulnerability has been shaken to its' core, and he can't say it, and he wants to, but...

instead he asks them to stay a little while he falls asleep (just one final, little test, he muses to himself), and they oblige. he's laid on the couch, head in their lap, his (admittedly not quite so soft after all the gel has hardened) hair being carded through by soft, ever-eager, sleepy fingers. he will never get a moment like this again and he pushes himself to take it in, revel in every second that passes, commit to absolute memory (no matter what he had earlier in the day) every detail of this sightly, sweetly saint's face.

he ends up falling asleep feeling cherished. he will remember this day forever. years to come he will still have tabs on this person, and their life will still be unexpectedly, oddly lucky.

maybe one day he'll find it in him to thank them properly, face-to-face...

nshtn can i say i love you? because i love you and every time you come in my inbox i get so excited

first and foremost i don't think he even would dance at a party. he very much is the kind of guy to find a spot and linger there with a group he's only half listening to. once he meets you though his night gets much much more interesting

he's never really had chances to drink, except maybe whiskey or something expensive with Spencer during their talks about Umbrella and the future, so when you start handing him all kinds of seltzers and mixed drinks and straight shots of vodka, he is very overwhelmed

he can't show it though! so he dutifully takes most of what you hand him, a few drinks are two sweet for him, and he is very quickly wasted tbh. you're so nice though, and you drag him in the middle of everyone dancing and show him a few easy things and soon enough he's bouncing around with everyone else

every time he starts to think about what's going to happen tomorrow you're immediately there to distract him. it's almost like you can read his mind - you know just the right things to say and how to push people out of the way and he just thinks you're perfect under the flashing lights

finally when it's time to go home, he knows for a fact he can't show up at his place looking messed up as he is - what if Spencer or Birkin or some nameless Umbrella employee saw him and ratted him out? so he takes your offer to go to your house gracefully as he can this drunk

he knows now that you're a party expert, you immediately make him drink water and wash his face and take preemptive tylenol for the hangover. your fleeting kiss and warm hands on his sweaty skin are so sweet he can't bear to think about it longer than he has to. he knows he should leave before you wake up tomorrow and forget this wonderful night ever happened (he'll never forget you, not even on his deathbed)

you give him every courtesy and kindness you can offer and he decides to take just one more, one last sweet touch to take with him into the night. you smile sleepily and open your arms for him to fall into - the blanket covering his shoulders is a little too hot and you both smell like beer and liquor and sweat but your lap is so soft, it makes the ache in his back and shoulders from carrying the world lessen a bit, and your fingers in his hair send him into a beautiful and silent sleep

the next morning it physically pains him to untangle from your body on the couch. he stands and watches you for a moment, his heart clenching and pounding in his chest, until he forces himself out the door before you can feel his absence.

when he meets you again, what feels like a thousand years later, his heart pounds just the same. you recognize him, his twisted dark smirk and deep eyes, and when you smile and say his name he's suddenly twenty-something all over again and dizzy and drunk in your arms - he never wants to leave you again

[kitsuga]

Hold My Hand. {Albedo x Reader}

Description:  

A fic in which Albedo is amused by reader’s attempt to confess over time; makes them work just to hold his hand. 

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Tags: fluff, confessions, reader is not mc/lumine/aether!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, albedo x reader, genshin impact x reader, genshin impact, albedo

Word Count: 810

A/N: Written on: April 3, 2021 

Albedo is a bit hard to capture, I think. I think that’s why I keep pushing myself to write him LKSJDFH hes very cute though and uhg I wish I had him, beautiful alchemist boy 

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Teal eyes kept peeking at the person beside him. As the two of them walked along the frozen mountain pass, (Y/n) kept bumping into him, mumbling an apology and swerving back on track only to do it again shortly after. At first, Albedo was worried something had been wrong—maybe the cold had gotten to them, or they’ve gotten sick; the more he watched them, however, the more he realized this was not the case. 

The flush of their face, the closeness of their body, and the shyness in the way their eyes could not meet his told him all that he needed to know, but he would keep this information to himself and see just how long it would take them to do something about it themselves. 

He kept his little experiment quiet. He would say nothing, nor would he let his body language suggest he knew what was going on. It would be a lovely little experiment to see just how (Y/n) expressed their love, or rather, attempted to express it. Maybe he’d express his back as a reward. 

Days have gone by, and Albedo has to keep himself from laughing at their frustrations. If they bumped against him, he apologized and moved. If they started a romantic suggestion, he’d play dumb or simply pretend not to hear. If he caught them longingly looking towards him, he’d ask if there were something behind him. At times, he’d be nice and give them a little prompting--a chance for them to come clean—by asking them if anything was wrong. Time and time again, their face would heat up and they’d quickly dismiss the idea. Albedo can’t help the small smile he keeps to himself when he turns around. 

Weeks later, he’d find them still trying, practically gluing themselves to his side. They’d keep quiet, but would keep eye contact with him longer, and leave their fingertips lingering along his hand or arm just a tad bit longer than was normally acceptable of “just a friend” or an assistant. Albedo would offer them the gentlest smile he could to help push them forward a bit more, but they’d still find themselves at a loss for words.  

He found the very idea of them being shy interesting. As someone who normally spoke their mind and were adventurous to an extent, watching them flip a switch as they get close in proximity to him was definitely a fun little show. He’d certainly tease them about it once they confessed, but for now, he’d replay all of the little instances together in his mind whenever he got the chance. 

Albedo figured the day was finally upon the two of them to finish their little dance. As he leaned over the alchemy table, vials in hand, he watched (Y/n) come up beside him without a word. He could feel their eyes on him for quite a while, not that it deterred him from the task at hand, but it was entertaining to feel the gaze get closer and closer. He smiled as (Y/n) reached for the hand closest to them, attempting to lace their fingers between his, causing him to chuckle to himself. 

“Is this your attempt at finally confessing? Holding my hand?” 

“You knew this entire time!” 

“Maybe.” 

He laughed gently as they seemed dumbfounded—maybe a bit betrayed, as well—and huffed out of embarrassment. Albedo turned towards them, taking in the enjoyment he got from watching them go through several different emotions rapidly, unsure on what they should do now and trying to figure out if they had been rejected. To ease their fear, he gestured for them to come closer, and trapped them between himself and the alchemy table once they were close enough. Smiling innocently at them as they grew embarrassed, he went back to his task at hand, ignoring the heat they gave off and the fact he could practically hear their heartbeat leap from their throat. 

“Your attempt was very cute, but my hands are a little busy right now.” 

[lunisoular]

gray terminal fire seems kinda different 🤔

[imaybe5tupid]

Why bother? (Why bother?) It's gonna hurt me. (It's gonna hurt me.) It's gonna kill when- (Why bother!) -You desert me! (Gonna hurt me!)

Set after Nightmare. Laios is reminiscing and contemplating.

[hormonalmaximum]

I need him carnally

[chuluoyi]

this brainrot is totally bc i’ve been watching house of the dragon and the elusive samurai—🤧

you, a princess, is named the heir of the shogunate since your father the shogun has no living son. it’s a very controversial decision as no female has become a shogun in history—many parties are unhappy with you as the heir apparent

and then life as you know it ends when they throw a coup, depose the shogun and are after your life. you thought you’ll give in and just commit suicide to die a honorable death like your father, until at the last minute, you are saved by a shady priest claiming his eyes can see above and beyond—

gojo satoru looks like a bogus but he is strong, resourceful and apparently is blessed as he is the host for a god. a god amongst men, they dubbed him

and he has sworn his loyalty to you. together, you walk the tedious journey to reclaim your throne . . .

[sakuraspoke]

31 days of ghost // day 2 - the song that made you a fan ⸸ for @dolceterzo ♡

He is He's the shining and the light Without whom I cannot see And He is insurrection, He is spite He's the force that made me be He is Nostro Dis Pater Nostr' Alma Mater He is

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

here have a Lights Out meme(?) before i go to bed <3 Wally is showing off a neat party trick to his newfriend <3

og:

[winged-wheel]

Buddies trump the protocol!

[brainrotcharacters]

I Wanna Dance With Somebody playing at the radio rn and I think I just found a good enough substitute to You're The One That I Want

[ziggstheenby-2]

EVEN MORE rqg drawings

this time, featuring Azu, Epilogue Azu, another epilogue Azu, post epilogue Azu, Emeka and an exceptionally pretty Zolf

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

How can I bribe you into helping me get a job in the industry, other than promising my undying love, which you already have <3

The industry is horrible and awful, low pay, long hours, no real chance of advancing.

Whenever people touring the station or new interns ask me for advice, I always tell them to change careers lol

[kinokoshoujoart]

silly devouring his salad

my twitter mutual drew a BUTCHER VANITY Rock and caused me to irreparably have a cannibalistic rock living in my head, this is but one escaped consequence of that