#Garth voice: my king

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hi! Can you do a Morpheus x reader where she’s like his right hand and has been around since the beginning and is the second command and/or hand of the king and Morpheus is down bad and everyone can see he worships the ground she walks on and people who don’t know them are confused who is the ruler and who is actually the right hand because there so attentive to each other.the reader stays In The dreaming when Morpheus is captured and never stops trying to bring him home.and maybe a confession/proposal from dream

"The Right Honourable" - Morpheus x Reader

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.3k Sandman-inspired playlist

The dispute over Roaring Plains went back to the creation of Dreaming. Barty and Garth claimed that the land belonged to their respective ancestors and that either should be the rightful and exclusive owner of the seven hills. After aeons of arguing and waking up every entity nearby at the crack of dawn with their yelling, Barty and Garth decided to finally take the matter to the King. After all, whose judgement could settle their dispute if not the voice of the Lord of the Realm?

Morpheus had a curious habit of sitting on his throne leaning slightly to the left where you stood as if he was always expecting you to chip in like a temptress whispering sweet words that slowly ruin an empire. Only you were quite the opposite - a temptress that softened the strong hand with which he ruled like a warm sunray brushing against frosty cheeks on a winter morning.

Due to the slightly overwhelming emptiness of the throne room, the rushed footsteps belonging to Barty and Garth resounded throughout the hall in a loud echo. As they marched through the marble corridors, their blurry reflections on the polished marble following them in an equally irate manner, the two farmers made sure to keep their comically large distance between each other.

Barty, being significantly taller than his neighbour Garth, approached the throne much faster and wasted no time in starting a broil. "I have come here to regain my rightful land!"

"Your rightful land?!" Garth asked between his pants. He tried to push Barty but the taller man didn't even flinch - he seemed to be more angry about Garth touching his brand new velvet green vest than attempting to shove him. "Roaring Plains belongs to me, ya dobber!"

The marble corridors as if with newly-found spite managed to make the affront louder and sharper sounding. Hearing the tasteless insult, you wanted to cut the growing tension as soon as possible. It was no way to speak in the presence of a king. "Garth, if you could-"

"Hey!" the farmer interrupted you. A deep wrinkle appeared between his thick, furrowed eyebrows. His angered face was about as maroon as his plaid tam o'shanter. It was worth noting that he took the hat off a little too late considering he had originally entered the throne room of the palace with his head covered. "I'm trying to speak to our merciful lord!"

Suddenly, Morpheus clenched his hand in a fist and moved ever so slightly out of the throne, sitting now on its very edge - ready to jump off it at any moment, a poked lion ready to pounce. "You will address the Right Honourable with proper respect," he began in a bizarrely calm, wavering voice like all of his energy was directed at not lashing out at the very moment, "or you can leave my palace and hope I have too many duties to tend to on this day."

Garth almost opened a dispute but managed to bite himself in the tongue. Barty tried to discreetly slap his neighbour on the shoulder as though to bring him to his senses.

"Garth and I came to you, my merciful lord, due to an old dispute about the land, Roaring Plains. After generations of disagreeing, we decided to leave the judgement to you, the highest and most rightful instance in this beautiful realm."

You looked at Morpheus when Barty regurgitated sleazy brown-nosing you had heard many times before. Despite the general lack of expression on his face, you could quickly tell he was growing tired and angrier: it was visible in the way he sat, the way his foot tapped against the floor and even the way he occasionally inhaled in a strangely sharp way as if he closed his ears to all the sweet-talking and consciously focused on breathing calmly to not lose his grip on emotions. It was something you appreciated about him as a king as well as a man - Morpheus was pragmatic. He yearned for honesty and straightforwardness, which wasn't exactly common in the royalty of any kind.

"I've heard enough." Morpheus interrupted the respective ramblings of Barty and Garth, each of them telling tall tales as irrefutable proof of being the exclusive, rightful owners of the disputed land. Given the severity of the conflict, it was pretty surprising that both farmers stopped talking the moment Dream asked them to. Neither of them was willing to go back home defeated.

It was such a normal thing for you to lean down and whisper. Only occasionally did Morpheus not expect for you to chip in and on such rare instances he made it very clear - he leaned as far away from you as he could while remaining seated. "My lord, Roaring Plains is too much land for one man to farm, no matter how driven. They could share it, bring prosperity in place of envy."

Another normal thing regarding your council was the way Morpheus would look at you. His bright eyes stared into yours with a certain reflection, always making you wonder what in the world he was pondering while admiring your face merely inches apart. Sometimes his blue eyes seemed strangely vacant as if the moment you appeared before them all coherent thoughts left his mind and there was only you in the entire universe. But it was only a nice thought about a nice man - you never quite believe there was even a grain of truth in that little observation.

Visibly reluctantly, Morpheus finally looked away from you and at the two farmers who nervously waited for the king's judgement. Barty kept picking at the hem of his velvet vest, picking off invisible dust and lost strings, while Garth crumpled his hat in his clammy, stained hands.

"So it shall be," Morpheus announced garnering the attention of the farmers. Both of them raised their eyebrows in surprise, clearly not knowing what their merciful lord meant through his words. "Roaring Plains shall be shared by you and your families from this day forward. Dismissed."

Barty and Garth looked at each other unsure. The taller of them forced a smile on his face and reluctantly extended his hand to the other man. Garth looked at the hand, then at the man's face and slowly shook Garth's hand. Barty quietly said something to his neighbour only to put his arm around his shoulder afterwards and lead him out of the palace. The ancient dispute seemed to have disappeared in a matter of minutes.

"King Morpheus unites and not divides," you said in an exaggerated official tone when the two of you were alone again. "Sounds rather lovely, doesn't it?"

He stared at you with a shadow of a smile dancing across his face. Everyone knew about Dream's affection towards you, perhaps except for the King himself. Should he be asked about it, he'd deny any favouritism and simply state that he follows your advice because it's good advice. "I owe such praise to my Right Honourable."

Some, however, began to consider a certain shift of power having witnessed their lord's curious affection towards you. In a colourful analogy, one might compare the arrangement to a magician and his assistant: everyone knows that it's the assistant who does the real magic. While the audience is captivated by the showman pulling another bunny from a hat, the true prestidigitator has a chance to fool the onlookers right in front of their faces. Such nonsense would have been already disputed officially in the King's court but firm believers of that conspiracy remained too anxious of their lord to ever bring their suspicions to light.

If someone from the Waking World was to visit Dreaming, one of the first things they'd notice would be the strangely unchangeable weather and a suspicious lack of wind. The latter, however, was a much more complex issue as there were only two places in all of Dreaming where air moved: Fiddler's Green, with its gentle spring breeze and the terrace garden of the King's palace where an equally gentle zephyr brushed against vines, trees and flowers.

The case of said terrace gardens was interesting in itself as it wasn't as old as the rest of the palace. In fact, there were villages in Dreaming that were older than the flowery addition, although the thickness and sprawl of the red ivy could suggest otherwise. Aside from ivy, the garden had beautiful flowerbeds of white roses, buttercups, carnations and lilies. Morpheus always thought they bloomed so nicely only because they were envious of your own charm.

"Right Honourable?" The familiar voice distracted you from the thick book you had in your hands. Morpheus was strolling towards you, clearly not in a rush to get on with any duties left for the day. "Lucienne doesn't take lightly the books leaving her library."

The sun was behind your back, creating an angelic halo of bright light and blooming flowers that filled the terrace garden. If you were to be gone the next morning, that was the way Morpheus would have wanted to remember you: happy, with nature cradling around you to admire your beauty with him. Thankfully, you were going to be in the Dreaming the next day. And the day after that as well as many more centuries to come. You were sitting on a marble bench with carved decorative birds and for a moment, Morpheus considered whether you needed a blanket or a set of cushions. Surely a seat of stone could not be a comfortable reading place.

"I am sorry to inform you, my lord but I'm afraid I'm the only exception to that rule. Lucienne has told me that I might be the only person who actually returns them on time."

"What is it you're reading?" he said as he sat down beside you. It was a rare occasion that both of you could do something else besides tending to the kingdom. Quite curiously, even during those scarce moments of downtime, you still decided to spend it with each other.

"The Goldfinch, my lord." Keeping your finger inside it, you closed the book to show the minimalistic and yet very meaningful cover. "It's about a boy who steals his late mother's favourite painting from a gallery and runs across the world with it. He ends up in Holland..." your voice trailed away and Morpheus silently waited for the questions you were inevitably going to ask. "Do you think Holland's nice?" you said as you looked at him.

"Waking World is no place for us." He spared no time in repeating obvious rules you were more than familiar with - you were there when they were written.

"I know, my lord," you answered in a slightly sadder tone. Sometimes you wished he didn't remind you of the fate bestowed on you. "Yet the stories from there always make me wonder. Like the titular goldfinch: it's this small yellow bird with black wings and a black forehead. Must be beautiful with its noble look." Your free hand longingly traced the bird on the cover as you spoke. "I'd love to see one someday, even in someone's dream."

The next few hours Morpheus and you had spent in silence as you were reading the book and he seemed to be thinking about something. It was a comfortable silence: one that falls between people who know each other a little too well to always be talking about something; after aeons spent together, there was hardly anything new you could tell each other but it wasn't awkward or upsetting in any way. No, it was a very comforting feeling that one may know someone too well to flood them with their stories and thoughts. After all, to be known is to be loved. Your next day began with an unfamiliar chirping outside the palace walls.

And one day he simply did not come back. He made promises and assurances and for the first time since the dawn of times, the word of the Dream Lord was not kept.

The palace was... silent. But not in the sense of a lack of sounds, no. It was silent of life, as though the moment the Lord of Dreaming had left his realm, all of his creation began slowly dying. You could only hope their fatal condition was not unanimous to Dream's. It was as if in creating his realm, Morpheus placed a part of himself in each particle present in that world. With him gone, that easy-to-overlook and yet entirely essential element had disappeared too. The genius loci of Dreaming didn't simply change in the absence of its master, no, it was completely gone as if vacancy could be a wraith that haunts.

"You have done all you could, Right Honourable," Lucienne assured you. The echo of her voice made the marble halls feel even more empty and abandoned than when they were drowning in dreaded silence. "We can only await our lord's immediate return." In her mind, he was always on his way back, about to reappear the very next moment, despite long decades of his absence.

"'All I could' seems to not be enough, Lucienne."

"We all miss him. You're not alone."

"It's quite the contrary, my dear," you answered without looking at her at first. With Dream's prolonged absence, she was adamant about keeping you company. "Morpheus was someone else to each and every one of us. I can not understand your loneliness and you can not understand mine. We are both lonely in our loneliness, how sad is that?"

Lucienne didn't answer your question but truthfully, you weren't exactly looking for one.

Dream's throne wasn't comfortable to sit on but he wasn't a man chasing comfort. The seat was rigid, prickly and made one overly conscious of their body and how it was contorted. Maybe there was some timeless wisdom in the king's throne being uncomfortable to sit or perhaps Morpheus was a bit of a masochist. Funnily enough, both options seemed equally probable.

"He always hated when I-..." you hung your voice. A heavy sigh left your lips before you corrected yourself. "He hates when I sit here. He tries his best not to show it and pretends he doesn't see but I can tell. And now, when I have to, I dread it. Do you think he feels the same way when he sits on the throne? That he has to watch his breath or else the whole kingdom turns to ashes."

"Our lord Morpheus is a noble ruler. We must have faith in him, Right Honourable."

"That we do," you said quietly under your breath as you sighed. You remained seated on his throne, staring mercilessly at the palace door as if you could will his return into existence.

And one day, a long overdue day, he simply showed up - tired, confused, angry, barely dressed. He refused to talk at first, storming through the palace halls, filled with rage that would put gods of war to shame. Something dark got a hold of him and you couldn't imagine what that meant for Dreaming and you.

After a hundred years of staring at the entrance of the palace, the king had finally returned but not exactly the same as the day he left. There was a strange coldness in his attitude, something he never quite showed towards you or Lucienne. Not wanting to anger him further, you quietly sneaked out of the palace to wait out his labile mood in the gardens. Ever since he disappeared, you watched them only through the windows, never daring to leave the throne room in case Morpheus suddenly returned or a calamity fell on the realm and you were responsible for mending it.

What once had been a terrace garden, now was nothing but a sad remnant of happier days, a monument of longing and heartache. Ivy was completely dry, its red leaves were nowhere to be seen. Brown vines barely engulfed the walls of the palace, threatening to break off and fall with a mere gust of wind. The flowers, too, had forgotten their former glory; shrubbery that had died so long ago that even soil forgot what they once were. The palace haven was once filled with excited chirping, while now none could be heard. Out of the goldfinches Morpheus had made, only one of them was left: an exhausted, emaciated bird that occasionally let out a quiet, sad chirp as if he was still trying to call out to his long-gone brothers.

The sound of heels tapping against the tiled floor made you turn around and finally look away from the ruins that you once called a garden. He seemed to not look at you but rather at the shrubbery behind you - at the dry ivy, dead flowers and the golden bird that refused to fly farther than a meter or two. For a moment you felt invisible as Morpheus walked towards the railing to get a better look at the gardens below. Judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows, you knew it was the first time he was seeing them after his return: he didn't know what ruin awaited in place of flowers and birds.

"What happened to you?" you asked quietly after a moment of silence. You weren't sure yourself whether you meant his sudden coldness or the entire century he was gone. Both had left you worried and unnerved.

"I was imprisoned by an amateur witch," he answered quietly. His voice was filled with contempt. "He managed to steal my tools as well."

Quite unsurprisingly, you didn't know what to tell him. A simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't cut it when a case of being held captive for a hundred years was considered. "Morpheus, I-" you stuttered.

"While in captivity, I have had a lot of time to think," he continued without letting you interrupt.

"About what?"

"Various matters," he said in a dismissive manner. "Things passed as well as those that are yet to happen. Perhaps even things I wish would become true." You couldn't know it as you were looking at the dead plants but Dream bore his eyes into you as he spoke of his potential wishes.

"Such as?" you coaxed him.

"Although your council has always been wise and dear to me, there was another reason why I followed your advice. To make you happy."

Why in the name of all things holy would the king of Dreaming be concerned with that? You furrowed your eyebrows and quickly turned your head to look at Morpheus who was already staring at you. There was an intimidating intensity in his eyes like he was about to bestow a deeply hidden secret upon you.

"Like this garden." He looked away from you for a moment. Staring at his profile, you saw him slightly push his lips tighter together. "Its only purpose was to cure your unhappiness that tore my heart. It failed its purpose as did I. And this little bird, which occupied your mind as much as... I'd like to."

His confession seemed strange, to say the least. Morpheus wasn't one to talk about his feelings and so whatever knowledge he just shared with you it was of utmost importance as well secrecy.

"Morpheus, I'm afraid I don't entirely understand what you're trying to say." To be exact, you had a burning suspicion as to what he was suggesting but you wanted him to say it out loud - just to make sure it wasn't your yearning imagination bending the edges of reality.

In a gentle manner, he took your hand into his and looked into your eyes. The intensity you had seen in them before had only gotten deeper, rawer. "I had miss you greatly, my Right Honourable. I'm asking you to become my queen if you're willing to have me as your king."

"My king?" you repeated. "It nearly sounds obscene if you put it like that."

The corner of his mouth slightly pulled up. For the first time in a hundred years, the lonely goldfinch chirped happily. Perhaps, its loneliness, just like yours, was about to end.

#the sandman #the sandman imagine #the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfiction #morpheus sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #morpheus imagine #morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus #morpheus fanfiction #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby: Our Song

a/n: I put my 90s country playlist on shuffle and wrote for songs that came up. This isn’t super connected to whatever plot I have going on in the main story. It's more of a series of vignettes.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None, 90s Country

Word Count: 700 ish

Summary: Jake listens to 90s country music. 

Masterlist   

You roll your eyes as Jake pairs his phone up to the Bluetooth speaker in his kitchen. Jake rarely listens to music from this century. He mostly switches between classic rock playlists and ‘90s country and lately it has been trending country. As someone who grew up listening to mostly Top 40 music you were not familiar with most of the songs he played. Despite your unfamiliarity with the genre it was growing on you. Every song you learn to love is connected to memories of Jake. 

Jake sings a lot. It was something you noticed in your time with him. Not around his coworkers, but he sings around you often. He is able to remember the words and cadence to songs in a way that you would never be able to. When you commented on the blueness of the sky Jake jumped into singing, “Here she comes a walkin’ talkin’ true love, saying I’ve been looking for you love, surprise your new love has arrived, out of the blue clear sky,” all the while taking your hand and twirling you before pulling you into a kiss. At your slightly baffled expression he adds, “George Strait’s Blue Clear Sky.” He grins, “don’t worry Darlin’ I’ll convert you to a follower of King George.”

There was the disastrous attempt to teach you line dancing to Brooks and Dunn’s Boot Scootin’ Boogie on western night at some bar you don’t remember the name of. Alcohol was a factor in how many times you stumbled giggling into Jake as he patiently caught you and steadied you for the next attempt. When you had tried again, sober this time, on your back deck on a Sunday afternoon you were much more coordinated and he informed you that he would be willing to take you line dancing when you went to meet his family in Texas. 

John Michael Montgomery’s Sold is Jake's song for you. Every time it plays he will sing the whole song to you, keeping up to the fast lyrics with an exaggerated twang in his voice. “Jake, I don't exactly match the description of the women in the song,” you tell him laughing. “Doesn't matter, you’re a ten,” he tells you. “This was me when I met you. You’re it for me Darlin’, I’m sold.” 

You think about slow dancing in Jake’s kitchen every time you hear Garth Brooks’ The Dance. It’s late and most of the lights are off. Your one hand is clasped in his and the other is playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Jake's hand on your lower back is holding you close to him as you sway to the music. Jake’s soft humming is a rumble as you rest your head on his chest and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Jake singing, “I put a big down payment on that itty bitty diamond ring,” to Diamond Rio’s Unbelievable as he drives makes you pause. At the conviction in his voice you turn and stare at him. Neither of you have said ‘I love you’ yet, even though Jake has already declared that you would be getting married. He catches your eye and winks before turning back to look at the road. You narrow your eyes watching him sing along before deciding you are jumping to conclusions. Probably.

You had always listened to Shania Twain and her songs took a new meaning to you. It was hard for you to miss the fact that Jake perfectly personified the lyrics to Any Man of Mine. You have long since admitted to yourself that you were falling hard and fast for Jake. His casual certainty that your relationship was long term was simultaneously perplexing and exasperating, but mostly it was endearing. He made your heartbeat quicken with a wink one moment and could relax you with a hug the next. He made you feel safe.

You don't have one song to remind you of your relationship, you have an entire decade of a genre, and you still don’t know what song you will dance to at your wedding. 

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman/reader #top gun hangman #top gun x reader #topgun maverick #top gun fanfiction #hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x you

[authurials]

𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 … chapter one

𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 . a council of snakes

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 . here

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . no warnings

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . here is chapter one of still of the night--cross posted here as well as on ao3. this first part is give a little insight on aemond and his small council, next part will be keeley's intro and first glance of baby aerion! please let me know your thoughts and make sure to leave a like to show your support.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 a time, in his youth, where Aemond Targaryen would have given anything to be King of the Seven Kingdoms. He had been an envious child–a second son–constantly longing after what he could not have–whether it be a dragon, a father, a birthright; none had ever been given so easily, and so Aemond Targaryen had learned how to take. It was he who had claimed Vhagar at the mere age of ten, it was he who took his revenge against the bastard Lucerys Velaryon for cutting out his eye, and it was he who had won his brother’s war when he killed their sister’s greatest weapon, Daemon Targaryen. And yet it was Aegon who had been crowned all the same, it was Aegon the Greens had fought for, and Aemond had been nothing more than a weapon to be wielded–a means to an end. For no matter his years of training and studying and dedication, no matter if his elder brother had never been suited for duty, Aemond would never have been anything more than a second son–a spare to an heir, until Aegon had solidified his rule by having children of his own.

And yet none of it had mattered by the time the dust had settled on the battlefield and the poison had taken root in Aegon the Elder’s body, for there Aemond Targaryen now sat at the head of the small council table–king, and hating every second of it.

The monarch sighed in disinterest, poorly feigning paying attention as the men around him once more discussed what they believed to be a most pressing subject–the potential future arrangement of his second marriage. One might mistakenly believe that there were far more important things to set the crown’s attention and resources to; the debilitating poverty in Flea Bottom to begin with, or mayhaps the areas of the realm still in need of repair after the dance had left them decimated and in some cases unlivable, or even the ever persistent fragile state of the realm, that still found itself torn asunder by the fracturing of the house of the dragon. Yet, it was the misguided belief of Aemond’s small council that all could be fixed with the right marriage–one that would see the seven kingdoms once more reunited, and begin an era of prosperity under his rule.

Though, Aemond saw the prospect of his rule being ‘prosperous’ rather unlikely and in fact laughable in the face of all that he had done; so many still saw him as cursed–

A kinslayer.

They would never see him as anything but a monster, and maybe that was what Aemond was; but, at least it was his blood that would sit the throne, the price that had been paid in blood and fire had seen to that–

He had seen to that.

“--it would be the most practical choice, your grace, if you were to marry Lady Rhaena, ” Lord Edric Reyne, Master of Law, pressed once more to regain Aemond’s attention.

“However,” Lord Hendrik Lannister, Master of Coin, added, “there are other choices we may consider that would be just as advantageous.”

“Still trying to see your niece as queen, Lord Hendrick?” Ser Garth Swyft, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,  snorted.

“Gentlemen,” Oberon, the Grand Maester, hummed disapprovingly, quieting the playful squabbling; he turned his attention back to the king, whose indifference continued. “My king, I understand that this decision might be a difficult one, however without a queen we fear some might begin to question your–”

“My what, Grand Maester?” Aemond interjected finally, his voice sharp like the Valryian dagger he kept strapped to his side at all times; his singular pale eye was piercing as he stared down the older man. “You fear they might question my rule if I do not take another wife? Yet it is so soon after my beloved Floris’ death.”

He used the term beloved loosely, as there had certainly been no love between Aemond and his wife. They had married not long after the war had ended, his mother the Dowager Queen pressing for the ceremony as a way to raise spirits and appease the Baratheons; the latter of which had still been reeling from the loss of their patriarch on the kingsroad. Floris herself had been apt enough to do her duty, and had taken to the title of queen rather well when her husband had ascended the throne; and though there had been nothing in regards to affection between the pair, Aemond had admired her loyalty and determination. He would not say he truly mourned the loss, but her presence in his life would be missed, as she had never bothered him for love or tenderness, but simply loyalty and respect in return for her own. Theirs had been a mutually beneficial partnership, and he doubted he would find that so easily in his next marriage–hence why he was so hesitant, among other reasons, to remarry so soon.

“I have no need for a queen by my side to be able to rule,” Aemond frowned, continuing, “nor do I feel the need to solidify my claim more when my late wife has already given me our son. Now, I do not know why you all bother me with such trivial matters when I have already made my opinion quite clear–I will marry no one else as of right now, and I will certainly not be marrying Lady Rhaena.”

He fixed his singular eye on the crux of the issue–Lord Alyn Velaryon, his previous Master of Ships and his newly named Hand; though he was greatly beginning to regret bestowing the honor upon the ruler of Driftmark as the man had done nothing but press his own agenda much like the previous Hand before him. Aemond had believed extending this olive branch to the only other remaining Valryian house in Westeros would see the matters of the dance finally put to rest; however, it appeared he had allowed the Velaryons too much leeway, as they were beginning to become a thorn in his side. If it was not Alyn scheming to marry his wife’s twin to the king, then it was his cousin Baela testing the bounds of his mercy as she made no attempt to hide her hatred and was constantly finding ways to impede his ability to rule–primarily in her control of  the Velaryon fleet.

“My king,” Alyn shifted in his chair, attempting to make himself look bigger under Aemond’s scrutinous stare, “although we may understand your stance on the prospect of a marriage arrangement so soon after Queen Floris’ passing, we must insist that this is what is best for the realm. A marriage to Lady Rhaena will finally unite our families once more, and if you were to have a child together, any bad blood that remained would be squashed. The people of the Seven Kingdoms can once more rest easy knowing the royal family is at peace, with no fear of further warring tearing the realm asunder once more.”

“I agree,” Lord Edric nodded. “Lady Rhaena would make a suitable choice for the next queen. She is of Targaryen blood, she is a dragon rider, and from what I have heard an intelligent and dutiful girl. A marriage between the two of you could restore House Targaryen to its former glory, and bring rise to a new generation of dragons.”

“If we can somehow manage to get the few eggs that do remain to hatch,” Lord Dagmar Greyjoy, Master of Ships, snorted before downing the rest of his wine; slamming his cup on the table, he gestured for the cupbearer to come forth, “more boy!”

All it took to silence the drunken man was for Aemond to turn his gaze on the Lord Regent of the Iron Islands, who only held his position simply to garner support of the Iron fleet; and even then, when the time came for the young Lord Toron to take his helm finally as his peoples’ leader, Dagmar would find himself out of a title–if he managed to even survive that long.

“Lord Velaryon, Lord Reyne,” Aemond hummed, turning his attention back to the matter at hand, “your words have been heard, and although I may understand some reasoning behind why you would want to see Lady Rhaena and I marry, I must disagree. There is much history between the pair of us, and not much of it good at that, and I fear that that has irreparably  damaged our opinions of one another. I have no desire to see us stuck in a marriage where neither of us can rest easy for fear of what the other might do, as I know I would not be able to find it in myself to trust her after everything that has transpired between our families. That in of itself would cause great complications in fulfilling our duties as I am sure a marriage between the both of us would bear nothing of fruit, of that I am certain.”

Silence stretched out across the long table of the council, the king’s advisors sharing looks–as if to ask one another if anyone else had any other ideas.

“Besides,” the king chose for them, breaking the silence as he continued on, “it was my understanding that Lady Rhaena was entertaining suitors even as we speak. Is that not correct, Lord Velaryon?”

“My king?” Alyn feigned confusion.

“Come now,” Aemond rolled his eyes. “What was the name of that Corbray knight I have seen my cousin speaking with as of late…Collin?”

“....Corwyn,” Alyn sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in barely concealed frustration. “But I assure you, your grace, nothing untoward has transpired between the two. I have certainly not given Lady Rhaena leave to marry, nor do I intend to.” 

“And why is that? Last I saw of them they seemed rather taken with each other,” Aemond hummed. “She will surely be happier with him than she ever would with me.”

“I have already spoken with my good-sister on the matter,” the Hand admitted, at least having the good sense to look uneasy under his king’s accusatory gaze. “That is to say, she would be amicable to a marriage if we are able to reach an agreement as a small council.”

“How kind of you to include us in this arrangement, Lord Alyn,” the Master of Ships quipped, paying more attention to his wine than the conversation.

“I agree,” Lord Henrick supplied dryly.

“Your grace,” Lord Edric came to the rescue, a voice of reason among the rising tensions between Hand and King, “let us at least hear what Lady Rhaena had to say to her good-brother in regards to the match.”

Snakes, the lot of them, Aemond could not help but think to himself as he assessed the men that surrounded him at the long table; there was not one among them that would do anything that did not benefit himself, that did not elevate his position in some way. He knew ambition when he saw it, had seen it etched across the cold and calculating plains of his grandsire’s face many a time growing up; and had felt it most viscerally himself the night he had claimed Vhagar–the night he had lost his eye. No one knew ambition better than Aemond Targaryen, especially how dangerous it could be when fed improperly.

“Very well,” he conceded with a stiff nod.

“My king,” Alyn began, saying the words as if in an attempt to reassert his loyalty to Aemond’s crown, “I have spoken in great depths to Lady Rhaena in regards to a potential match between you and her, this is true; and during our talks, my good-sister has expressed of course the same hesitation that you do, however she understands that if we as the small council can agree that this marriage is what is best for the realm then she will do her duty. However, she does ask that certain demands be met before doing so….”

“Aye, of course,” Aemond sneered in response, “and might I ask what my cousin would have of her king?”

“She asks that she be allowed to spend her summers on Driftmark, with my lady wife,” Alyn responds, unwavering under his liege’s burning stare, “and that the rest of the time will be spent here in King’s Landing. And even though we had already made plans to rebuild the Dragon Pit, she requests that it be completed post haste so that Morning may live in greater comfort if she is to live in the capital permanently.”

“Is that all?” The one-eyed monarch raised a pale brow.

The Hand of the King fell quiet for moment, for the first time showing unsureness before answering, and quickly the reason for such hesitation became clear as he continued, “Lady Rhaena would also see that her half-brother, Prince Aegon, be returned from his wardship in the North and instead be allowed to foster under the both of you.”

The other members of the small council exchange uneasy looks even as Aemond’s remained locked on Alyn, singular eye unwavering as if he could somehow fell the man with simply his gaze. For all he wanted to do in that moment was be rid of Lord Velaryon, and his cousins, once and for all so they may no longer plague him with any mentions of Aegon the Younger’s existence. The boy was an all but forbidden subject in the Red Keep, most if not everyone knew not to breathe his name in the king’s company for fear of reprimand–or worse.

After the war, the eldest son of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen had only been spared execution after barely surviving the sword the first time under Aegon the Elder due to Aemond having no desire to feed the title of kinslayer any longer; that did not stop him, however, in essentially banishing him from the capital with the threat of dragon fire in the North if Lord Stark attempted to raise the boy for usurpation and revenge for his fallen mother. Along with the boy’s exile, Aemond had also put a stop to the ill-arranged betrothal between Aegon III and his remaining niece, Jahaera; he could not stomach the idea of his sister’s only living child being forced to bear the burden of reunification of their fractured house, as it was not her responsibility to fix what she had not broken. To marry the blood of her twin brother’s killer was not something Aemond would allow his niece to be subjected to, no matter how much his small council pressed him to see reason.

“Well,” he cleared his throat finally, “I suppose it is good that I do not intend to marry Lady Rhaena then, as I would not see my nephew return to King’s Landing so quickly. The envoys I receive from the North tell me the child seems agreeable to the arrangement, and that Lord Stark is a firm but fair warden. What reason would I have to bring him back to the keep?”

“Your grace–” Lord Edric began.

“I grow tired of these discussions,” Aemond interjected with a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he assessed the men of the council. “Have I not made myself clear in regards to my intent–or lack thereof–to remarry? My late wife–your queen–has given me a son; I have my named heir–for now that is enough.”

“My king, I am afraid we cannot guarantee the prince’s continued health,” Oberon stated boldly if not foolishly, “we must ensure the security of your bloodline by procuring a spare as soon as–”

“My son shall live!” Aemond asserted loudly, finding himself standing from his chair, planting his hands loudly atop the table as he glowered at the older man. “He is my blood, the blood of the dragon! He is my heir, and he shall be king when my body no longer draws breath.”

The Grand Maester tried not to quack under the king’s anger, looking to the other council members for help but there was none to be had as they avoided his gaze.

“It is my fault really, as I have allowed you all to bicker and to plot for far too long,” the king laughed without humor, “but no more, I am afraid. I will hear no more of this nonsense–no more about marriage–”

He slammed his fist on the table, startling the men of the council and even the guards who stood at attention.

“No more about my son–”

He fixed a cool stare on the Grand Maester, who bowed his head under the pressure of the Targaryen’s pale gaze.

“And no more about Aegon,” he finished, turning the look onto Lord Velaryon, who sat still as a statue as he returned the king’s glare with one of his own.

Sinking back down in his chair, Aemond never broke Alyn’s stare as he continued, anger leaving his body as quickly as it entered,

“Am I understood?” He only broke away from the Velaryon to ensure he had the men in the council’s agreement to his newest commands; he would leave no room for doubt on how serious he was, even if he had to draw blood to get his point across. He would no longer suffer their ambition or their defiance, as he had for years under his grandfather and mother’s whim; he was king now, and though she had not flown for many years, he was still the rider of Vhagar, the Queen of Dragons–his word, at this current moment, was law–

And it would be obeyed.

“My king,” his title rang across the group of men, who bowed their heads in acquiesce until they got to the Hand, who sat stoically across from Aemond, still looking upon him unwaveringly.

“Lord Velaryon,” he pressed, “do you wish to say something?”

For a moment, Aemond welcomed the idea of the man’s resistance–even if it were a singular quip once more asserting his desire to see Rhaena wed the king. That was all he would need truly to rid the Lord of the Tides of his title as Hand of the King, and see him far from the council room–let that be a lesson when one’s ambitions stretch beyond the realm of propriety.

“No,” the man gritted out, “no I do not, my king.”

Like the others, Alyn Velaryon bowed his head to King Aemond’s demands, and with that the small council’s gathering was brought to an end.

As they left, Aemond remained seated, eyes trailing after them coolly until the last man disappeared through the double doors of the council room and they were once more closed. Left with only the guards and the cupbearer, Aemond picked up his own forgotten chalice of wine and took a sip, humming,

“Boy.”

“M-My king?” The cupbearer stepped forward, holding the pitcher of Arbor red; he had remained quiet as his position requires during the whole council meeting, and he was not often used to being addressed directly by the king himself.

“See to it that Lady Rhysling is made aware that I request her presence in my chambers after dinner,” Aemond instructed, “and inform the servants that I require a hot bath to be brought up afterwards as well.”

“My king,” the boy repeated, this time more sure as he bowed his head and set the pitcher once more on its pedestal, hurrying to leave the room and fulfill Aemond’s requests.

As the door clicked once more closed, the king downed the rest of his wine, taking a moment to himself–now all he had to do was make it through dinner with his niece.

#˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 : #/still of the night #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x original female character #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic

[melishade]

Attack on Prime Peaceful Timeline: If Fritz did survive.

So this is an idea that I've been having in my noggin for some time and I wanted to expand on it in detail. I've already discussed this with @justawannabearchaeologist and @echoblaze5 but I also wanted to put it here.

For those you who might be new, basically Attack on Prime: Peaceful Timeline is an AU where TFP Optimus gets sent to Founder Ymir's time and stops the power of the titans from ever existing. And Fritz dies, quite brutally, and it was so satisfying to write. For more info: here's the Peaceful Timeline Pilot, and I have my masterlist that goes into detail of what Optimus and Ymir have been doing after that time. Also here's the link to the Marriage, because there are some other characters you'd want to familiarize yourself with for this scenario.

But what if there was a slight differentiation. A deviation in the Peaceful Timeline. What if Fritz's wasn't killed by Helos after Optimus fled with Ymir?

TW Torture. TW Blood TW Anxiety

Picture this: King Fritz climbs up Ymir's titan form to grab her after her insubordination in the pilot which was to kill Optimus. But Optimus grabs Ymir from the nape of the neck and blasts him off of Ymir's decaying titan body. Optimus uses this cover to flee, but so does Fritz. Helos isn't able to spot him and kill him. He assumes he died during the attack. But Fritz used the smoke of the titan body to limp away and hide in the forest. He still watches as his empire falls before him. He watches his men either get killed or be forced to surrender while the Marleyans celebrate with tears of joy.

Fritz lost everything. His throne, his empire, his weapon. He's reduced to nothing but rags, carrying nothing but his blue cloak, his armor, and his sword. And now only one thought fills his mind and fuels him: find his slave Ymir and rebuild his empire. He searches for years, spite and anger fueling him. He ages and becomes weaker. He sees the damage his empire has caused, and he is forced to become the lowest of the low. He has no food, no water, he's forced to beg on the streets. He has to sell his armor and his cloak in order to eat, but he still keeps his sword. He is forced to hear the celebration of his defeat. Of how the 'Savior from Heaven' defeated the 'Devil of the Earth' and freed the world from his empire.

Despite witnessing the death and destruction he has caused and seeing the struggles of the common people, he doesn't have a change of heart. He's still bitter and spiteful and doesn't have a change of heart. He refuses to accept change, and only wants destruction and power. He wants to take back what is his.

So years later, at least eight years later in this hypothetical (Before Ymir tells Oshern the truth about her power), Fritz is still searching, but he's old at this point, but surprisingly spry and strong. He's just very delusional and has been having hallucinations, but he does end up near the village at the base of the mountain and spots Ymir foraging with Solveig. His slave was still alive after all this time! But they don't notice him as they return to the village together. But Fritz limping over to them with a sword in hand. However, when he gets there, he loses track of them, as they enter Solveig's house. The villagers notice him, and think he's in trouble and want to help. But Fritz loses his shit and swings his sword at them, demanding to know where his slave is. He ends up slashing Darrbey's arm and nearly stabbing Garth.

Ymir and Solveig are alerted to the noise. Both are watching in shock to see Fritz attacking the villagers, and Ymir hears his voice demanding for his slave, and the world stop. No...NO! He found her?! NO! Ymir is trembling in fear, and Solveig is telling her to get inside. But Ymir catches Oshern trying to calm him down. But that gets Ymir to react as Fritz swings his sword at him. Ymir runs and gets in front of Oshern and is slashed in the back, her dress getting torn, and blood spilling everywhere. Everyone is horrified as Oshern and Ymir are knocked to the ground, thinking that she's dead. But they all watch in shock as her wounds begin to heal. Oshern crawls back in disbelief while Ymir is on all fours, feeling the pain subside, but now she had gone from being scared to terrified. Her secret had been exposed.

Fritz is grinning. After all these years he finally did it. He found what he thinks belongs to him. He demands that Ymir return to his side at once, and he might forgive her for leaving his side and abandoning his duties to the Eldian Empire. Ymir's afraid to look everyone in the eye because now they know. They know what she is. They know that she's a monster. When Ymir doesn't react the way that he wants, he starts screaming and insulting her, telling her that the villagers know what she is: a monster, a freak of nature. She would never be accepted, he would be the only one who would. She would come back to his side! NOW!

The villagers are just mortified by this. This old man was insulting this woman! How the hell was she the monster?! Ymir is freaking out right now! Her hands are shaking! Optimus and Megatron weren't here! She didn't know what to do! But then she hears someone scream out 'MAMA!' Ymir raises her head to see Maria running towards her, calling out to her, but Magnar quickly grabs her and stops her from going further. But she's still screaming and crying out to her mother! And the villagers are just watching this fucked up scene before them, not really sure what to do. But Ymir seeing Maria, gives her resolve. She had her daughter, and she needed to protect her. Even if the world hated her, she knew for a fact her daughter didn't. She clenches her fists before getting on her feet. She turned to Fritz, and notices how different he looks. How old, and how weak he's become. He was no longer that same imposing figure that sat on a throne above everyone else. She walks up towards him, and the villagers are scared of what she's going to do, because they just witnessed her power and they don't know what the hell it even is! But then she speak.

I...am not...your slave.

The village is in shock. Ymir could talk, and her words were that of defiance. Fritz is in shock; he genuinely can't believe it. She just...defied him. He tells her to obey, but she tells him to leave. He tells her again, more forcefully, hoping it would be enough, but she still told him to leave.

"I am your master!" Fritz yelled at her, "I am ordering you to-!"

"LEAVE!" Ymir screamed out in anger, "LEAVE NOW!"

No. NO! Fritz was not going to take this insubordination lying down. She would die for it. He raises his sword to attack her, but Ymir is shocked when Oshern grabs her arm and pulls her back from the line of attack. Fritz is shocked. They defended her! But then Beini sneaks up behind Fritz and knocks him out cold. Solveig quickly orders for Fritz to be tied but and Maria wiggles her way out of Magnar's grip to get to Ymir.

"Mama!" Maria screamed as she wormed her way through the people to get to her, "Ma!...ma..."

The words die in Maria's throat when she realized how tense it was. All the eyes of the villagers...they were staring at her mother. Oshern was still holding Ymir's arm, but the woman yanked it back from Oshern and held it close to her chest. Ymir's eyes darted around the crowd that had formed. Her body began to shake, and her shoulders hunched over to make herself look smaller. Her mother...looked so terrified.

Ymir felt her breathing grow ragged as a million thought swarmed her mind. They knew the truth. They saw her power they knew she was a monster. She couldn't stop thinking about that day. When the other slaves looked at her, pointed their fingers at her and blamed her for the loss of Fritz's pig. The pain and terror that came after. The loss of her eye, the running, the drowning, the horrible torment and agony. But there was nothing to save her this time. There was nothing to give her power. Optimus wasn't here right now; she was on her own. No...She didn't want to be alone. She...

Solveig was worried as Ymir clutched the sides of her head and tried to control her breathing. She knew about Ymir's power for a long time, but had kept it a secret for a reason. But now the villagers knew, and Solveig wasn't even sure how she could spin this to protect both Ymir and Maria. The girl has been through enough; she didn't deserve more suffering! Solveig grew tense when Idunn let go of Darrbey and entered the circle, approaching Ymir in a calm and controlled manner. When Ymir saw Idunn's sandals in her vision, she tightened the grip on her hair even more and wired her eyes shut. They were going to shun her. They were going to kill her. She wouldn't be able to say goodbye to Maria, Optimus, Megatron. She wouldn't get to say goodbye to her fami-!

Ymir gasped as Idunn reached out and embraced her tight. Ymir's eyes snapped open at the gesture, but she still didn't release her head. What...what was this? Why was she hugging her?

"It's going to be okay," Idunn whispered, and Ymir's eyes were as wide as saucers, "It's going to be okay. We're not going to tell anyone about this. You're safe here, and you're not a monster. You're one of us."

That's...impossible. They didn't...shun her? They embraced her? She was being shown mercy? Ymir tried to contain her tears as her hands released her head, but her fear and relief had bubbled over to the surface, and the tears fell. The mother let out a loud wail in Idunn's embrace, making the villagers feel both guilt and sympathy for her plight. Solveig couldn't help but let out a breath of relief as Ymir continued to sob. Ymir was going to be alright. She was going to be safe.

During all of this, Optimus and Megatron were at the Cybertronian ship that they found to find energon and just be in their actual forms. When they returned to the cabin for the night, they were surprised that Ymir and Maria weren't there. They should be there by now. They go down to the village in their holoforms, and they see the villagers are in a panic demanding where the hell were they?! They explain some maniac attacked the village and was calling Ymir his slave. Optimus, worried, immediately demands where Ymir and Maria are and they point them to the mother and daughter. Ymir is draped in a blanket, her cheeks still stained in tears. She was drinking some water to rehydrate, and the two titans also see Maria curled up next to her mother under the blankets. The child's confidence was replaced with fear. She held Ymir by the waist and eyed the villagers with caution. Optimus calls out to the both of them, and the way their faces light up almost breaks him. They run up to each other and immediately embrace. Megatron checks Maria for any wounds and Optimus just holds a crying and relieved Ymir. But Optimus' mind is spinning. He wasn't here to protect Ymir or Maria. They were in danger, and he wasn't here. Optimus feels the clean tear in her dress and his spark drops. Ymir was injured. Her powers! Did the villagers know?! Megatron immediately asks where the assailant is and they all guide them to Fritz tied up, away, and screaming his head off. He screams at them to let him go and to give him back his slave. Megatron thinks the man has lost his mind, but Optimus recognizes the voice. From that day! He was the one! That monster!

"You...," Optimus spoke, earning all eyes on him. The old man kept staring at Optimus in contempt and confusion but he speaks anyway.

"Do not address me in such a disrespectful manner!" he yelled, "You are in the presence of royalty! And you have taken what is mine!"

"You...," Megatron grew tense at the sound of Optimus' voice. The villagers see his face morph into one of fury. His teeth were grinding against each other, and his fists were clenched tight. They are immediately reminded of that day the Eldian Empire invaded their village. But...they knew it was so much worse.

"For your sake, I'd advised that you remain quiet!" Solveig warned.

"I am the King of the Eldian Empire! I do not take orders from some decrepit old woman!" he yelled.

"YOU!" Optimus lunged across the table and punched the man dead in the face, breaking his nose and knocking him to the ground. The old man is yelling in pain from the punch, blood coming from his injury, but his pained expression turns into one of fear as Optimus glares at him like a rabid animal.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Optimus roared as he lunged again, but Megatron lunged after him and grabbed him before pinning him to the ground. Megatron locked his arms around Optimus' abdomen to keep his arms down, but the Prime kept on kicking his legs and trying his best to wrestle his way out of Megatron's grip, flailing like a wild animal.

"Optimus, stop! Not here! There are humans here!" Megatron yelled, "Ymir! Maria!"

"LET GO OF ME, MEGATRON! I NEED TO KILL HIM!" Optimus screamed, "DO YOU HEAR ME?! I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO MY DAUGHTER!"

The villagers can only watch Megatron try to stop Optimus, but the man was running on pure rage, trying so hard to kill the old man. Ymir had to cover Maria's eyes and ears at the scene, but she is just as terrified as everyone else at the display before them. Please stop. She just wanted him to stop.

"COWARD! MONSTER! DIE!" Optimus screamed. Megatron tried to cover his mouth to stop him from saying more, but the Prime had bit down on the hand hard, destabilizing the holoform hand. But Megatron still kept his grip on Optimus and refused to let go. He knew if he did, it would be a bloodbath. Megatron heard cries of sorrow getting mixed in with Optimus' cries of angers. The Prime still tried to wrestle his way out of Megatron's grip. He still bit down on Megatron's hand to try and use pain to get him to let go, but nothing worked. The villagers kept on watching, still scared on what to do, but then they witnessed Optimus beginning to cry. Tears poured out of his eyes and disappeared the moment they left his cheeks. Optimus screamed out in agony, furious he couldn't get what he wanted.

Megatron turned his attention to Beini. "Get the old man out the room! NOW!"

Beini and Garth quickly grabbed Fritz and dragged him out. Optimus finally released Megatron's hand from his mouth, but the scream he lets out is louder than before.

Optimus has to be dragged away and Megatron has to calm him down. But the villagers want some kind of explanation. Ymir is still afraid to provide one herself, but thankfully Oshern is able to fill in on what he knows. Oshern explains the Eldian Empire was a ruthless bunch and they had been conquering the world with the 'Devil of the Earth'. He explains that the Empire attacked his home and killed his people, leaving him the only survivor strictly due to chance. He had heard the tale of the Savior of Heaven defeating the Devil of the Earth, but...they all turn to Ymir, hoping she can provide an explanation. And she knows that she has to give one. So she writes down her story and gives it to them to read. And they are all horrified. And so much shit is clicking for them. Why the family chose to stay in the mountains. Why Ymir didn't talk. Why Optimus went ballistic. They still don't know what Optimus or even Megatron are because of what they've seen between the two. The hand started disappearing! What do they even make of that?!

Maria can't help but ask if they were going to hurt them because she understood the importance of keeping Ymir's power a secret, but Solveig immediately shuts the thought down. No. They were safe here, and they were family here. They weren't going to hurt any of them. Ymir doesn't feel safe going home, though, so Solveig immediately offers the two stay at her place for the time being. Thyra and Tove take the two there. They end up lying on Solveig's bed and holding each other tight, but it's really hard for both of them to fall asleep. Solveig orders the children to be taken home while the adults handle the situation. Because there's a discussion: what were they supposed to do with this man now?

Megatron is able to bring Optimus back into the room as the adults talk. He's calmed down, but he has refused to talk. Megatron has to speak for the both of them. A lot of the adults are saying that they need to kill this guy. He can't be left alive. He's a danger. Some are saying the man is old. He'll be dead soon enough. Kick him out. Oshern is pissed off because he's literally the guy responsible for killing thousands of people in the name of his empire! He needs to die, and some of them want to let him go because they don't want to take the life of a person ?! Megatron also brings up the fact that if Fritz is left alive, it could inspire others from the fallen Empire to reunite and start their conquest again. But, Solveig thinks of a more creative solution.

"Megatron, was it?" Solveig asked the former warlord, "I know that you're smarter than that. Death is too much of a mercy for someone like him."

"From experience, Solveig, a problem like this left alive for too long is too much of a risk," Megatron declared.

"Fair," Solveig agreed, "But if we kill him now, it's too easy. Too instant. If we torture him, he'll end up dying from his wounds because he's too weak. We leave him alive; it's running the possible risk of reviving the Eldian Empire. But we can't have that."

Solveig stood up. "I think major problem in all of this is that we are still treating this bastard like his human. He's not. He's an animal. Scum of the earth, and the excrement left by animals when they've eaten something bad. If someone wants to act like an animal, then they will be treated like an animal."

"What do you recommend?" Megatron asked with curiosity. Solveig turned to Oshern.

"Oshern, do you happen to have the knife your father gave you?"

"Um, yes." Oshern pulled out the knife and handed it to Solveig.

"Killing him as a human is a mercy, and mercy is too good for him. He will live the rest of his days as an animal and he will die as animal," Solveig declared, "A slave has no need for a tongue, and an animal has no need for his balls."

(Basically, Solveig's got a kill count and it's enough that it gets Megatron's respect. Megatron:...What's your kill count? Solveig: I lost track after 20. Megatron: You would have been respected in Kaon)

After that! Fritz ends up losing his tongue and his balls. Solveig wants to know if Optimus can handle this, but Optimus wordlessly takes the knife, grabs Fritz's tongue and chops that sucker of in one clean swoop. Fritz is crying out in pain, but Solveig uses her medicine to dull the pain and keep him alive for his castration. Fritz is weak and in pain, but Optimus grabs Fritz by his collar, lifts him in the air, and tell him:

"You will never cause pain to anyone ever again. You will die," Optimus declared, "And when you do, no one will remember you."

Fritz was still choking on his own blood from the loss of his tongue, but see stared at Optimus in fear.

"You are a stain on this world," Optimus continued, "A stain on the earth that robs and kills of anything good, but when you die, no one will even remember your name. You will be wiped away by the ravages of time, and as long as I still function, as long as my spark still beats, I will ensure that you are forgotten forever."

Optimus dropped Fritz to the ground, at the wretched man crawls back in fear. His assailants, his tormentors, look down at him like he is nothing, like he was scum of the earth. Like he wasn't even worthy to be called even a slave.

"Leave this place," Optimus ordered, "And never come back."

And just like a terrified animal, tucking its tail between its legs, Fritz is forced to flee into the wilderness. Once he's gone, Optimus ends up collapsing to his knees and covers his face to silently weep, while Megatron walks over and sits down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

So what happens after:

-Ymir is still really on edge when she goes to sleep and finally manages to wake up hours later. She sees Maria still awake, desperately clinging to her and not wanting to let go. The event traumatized Maria beyond belief and she doesn't want to let her mom go. But both of them are hungry and they need to get up. Ymir sits up on the bed, and is surprised to see a new dress at the foot of it, to replace her torn one. She puts it on, and Ymir goes to Solveig's kitchen, with Maria hiding behind her. And both are stunned to see Solveig, Oshern, and a few others making them food. Tove sees them and the woman beckons them over to eat, claiming they must be starving. But they don't even take a bite after they are seated. Maria asks the same question again: were they going to hurt them? And Solveig immediately tells them no once again. Ymir ends up kneeling down and bowing, apologizing for the trouble she brought, but they explain that she has nothing to apologize for. What she went through was horrible, and that she didn't deserve any of that. The fact that she stood up to the man who hurt her, is a testament to her bravery. Ymir is asked to stand up and the mother and daughter finally eat, but both are crying through every bite.

-Optimus and Megatron return after Optimus finally calms the hell down! He may have destroyed a thing or two on the ship out of frustration. And Optimus is so ashamed that he wasn't there to protect Ymir and that he let his emotions get the better of him. He apologizes to her, but Ymir just hugs him and rubs his back. He was in pain, and Ymir knows for a fact that she is loved. Optimus reassures her that Fritz is gone, and that he will never hurt her again, and it's the biggest weight lifted from her shoulders, because she knows that Optimus will keep his promise.

-Meanwhile, Megatron, who's had to be the voice of reason, has Maria clinging to him and refusing to let go. He sees the way that she's so scared. She was in a situation where she almost lost her mom. Megatron ends up holding her the rest of the day, focusing on comforting his Firelight and not trying to hunt down Fritz! He also says that he's going make sure Maria gets stronger. No exceptions. He doesn't care what Optimus and Ymir say. He does not want Maria to be in a helpless situation like that again. And Maria agrees, but right now, she just wants to feel safe with her Papa.

-Oh and the village also wants to know: WHAT THE HELL ARE OPTIMUS AND MEGATRON?! And Solveig immediately rats them out, saying that they are gods. And Optimus immediately tries to do damage control.

Garth: What do you mean you're gods?!

Optimus: We are not gods!

Megatron: We're demigods!

Optimus: MEGATRON!

Cause how are they supposed to explain aliens and planetary life to a place that doesn't even have electricity?! At least the villagers have a reason as to why Optimus and Megatron don't eat. But it also baffles them that they learn that Maria is the normal one out of the family. This does ultimately force Optimus and Megatron to reveal their titan forms with mixed reactions. Nothing too negative, although some people faint, and the kids immediately see a playground.

-But this does allow Optimus, Megatron, and Ymir to be more accepted into the village. There are no secrets anymore, and they can honestly breathe a huge sigh of relief at the idea of permanent safety. Although there is some accidental...worship. Optimus immediately tells them to stop while Megatron is interested in entertaining it.

-Oshern and Ymir end up having a talk. Ymir apologizes for keeping this a secret from him, and she understands that if he doesn't want to see her again, she understands, but Oshern just tells her that she's beautiful before kissing her. He loves her. That hasn't changed. Oshern and Ymir's relationship actually goes a lot more smoothly this time around because everyone knows the truth, so Optimus and Megatron don't have to be on edge, and they're able to get married a lot more easily.

-There's also the fact that the villagers piece together that Fritz is Maria's father, but for the sake of her, they keep quiet about it. She's been through enough as it is. Maria ultimately figures it out, but that's a conversation for another day.

-And as for Fritz, the last of his days he's treated as scum of the earth. No one spares him any change. People throw dirt and food at him, cursing and laughing at his situation. There are a few that survived the Eldian Empires fall. They see him and recognize him, and the fact that they are mortified and turn away, destroys Fritz. He would never be able to regain the power he once had. He was reduced to nothing, and he died with nothing.

(I love writing an abuser getting his comeuppance. It's fun. Also, Optimus losing his shit is also fun to write. Okay! Time to work on the Beloved Timeline Pilot and another Autobot Anthology entry.)

#attack on prime #transformers prime #tfp #attack on titan #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #ao3 #tfp optimus #optimus prime #megatron #tfp megatron #king fritz #ymir fritz #maria fritz #founder ymir #ymir the founder #ymir the first #snk ymir #maccadam #macadam #what if optimus appeared during founder ymir's time aka the peaceful timeline #tw blood #tw torture #fritz gets his shit wrecked #cw slavery #original characters

[doublism]

liam payne voice MY theory:

richard ayoade had a brief cameo in paddington 2. this is due to the fact that he knows paddington 2 director paul king from way back when (both were members of cambridge footlights) and has worked with him before (garth marenghi's darkplace). paul king is directing the upcoming smash hit film wonka. richard's next film has yet to be confirmed and as such he most likely still does not currently have a real job. this leaves him with plenty of free time for other activities, such as doing a favor for his friend and appearing for a brief moment in the upcoming cinematic masterpiece wonka. in the unlikely but not entirely impossible event that this does happen and he shows up on screen during wonka i will begin weeping openly/screaming/vomiting in the theater on opening night where i will be seeing wonka most likely in some kind of severely intoxicated state.

[agentrouka-blog]

"What's wrong with flowers?" "Nothing, for a bee."-Jon(ASOS V). Jon wanted to woo a girl with flowers but ygritte mentioned that flowers are for bees. "Lysa's suitors were gathering around them like bees round a blossom."-Cat(AGOT VII). Cat compare Lysa and her suitors with flowers and bees. "He was a bee in a stone honeycomb, and someone had torn off his wings."- Tyrion (AGOT). So Tyrion, a bee, who married to Sansa(flower). She is currently in honeycomb Vale. Grrm is doing something.

GRRM is definitely doing something with the image of bees, flowers and honey.

The entire Eyrie, as you point out, is replete with beehive imagery, and I think it’s connected to Littlefinger, especially. The Vale is his home, and the Eyrie with Lysa his secret power base. It’s where he brings Sansa.

Ellyn Ever Sweet, the girl who loved honey so much she sought out the King of the Bees in his vast mountain hive and made a pact with him, to care for his children and his children's children for all time. She was the first beekeeper, and the mother to House Beesbury. (The World of Ice and Fire - The Reach: Garth Greenhand)

Littlefinger would love for Sansa to be his Ellyn Ever Sweet, his Alayne. But like the maiden fair with honey in her hair, the dye can be washed out and the red constantly creeps back. She does not want his honey. She is not Alayne, not Ellyn. She is Sansa.

Littlefinger looked like a boy who had just taken a furtive bite from a honeycomb. He was trying to watch for bees, but the honey was so sweet. "Harrenhal and all its lands and incomes," he mused. "With a stroke, you'd make me one of the greatest lords in the realm. Not that I'm ungrateful, my lord, but—why?" (ACOK, Tyrion IV)

The honey he thirsts for is power, and “honey sweet” Sansa (ASOS, Arya XIII) will be his downfall. 

Jon, meanwhile, has no negative honey imagery. He feeds Ghost honeyed chicken - which the puppy defends against an enemy dog in a scene GRRM took care to insert early and prominently. Dareon's voice is honey poured over thunder. He admires Val’s honey-colored hair - especially when it’s a dark honey (red) shade. And, as you point out, he does fantasize about giving flowers. Specifically, a flower from the glass gardens - they grow likely only one kind of flower there, as it’s primarily used for growing food - the blue rose. Rare and precious and sweet-smelling. 

The Gift - foreshadowed to be Jon's domain one day - lists beekeeping among its abandoned practices. 

Brandon's Gift had been farmed for thousands of years, but as the Watch dwindled there were fewer hands to plow the fields, tend the bees, and plant the orchards, so the wild had reclaimed many a field and hall. (ASOS, Jon V)

All the related imagery (flowers, honey, bees) for Jon is either explicitly or vaguely romantic (beauty, music, protectiveness) or points to positive foreshadowing for himself. (Ygritte excludes herself rather beautifully.) 

Seems they are both looking for the right combination of flowers and bees to make honey. 

Sansa thinks it would be “sweet” to see Jon once again, and I suspect it will be. Ever Sweet.

#jonsa #jon snow #sansa stark #honey imagery #bees #flowers

[spiderdreamer-blog]

Assorted Thoughts On The Super Mario Bros. Movie Trailer

Yesterday’s release of the teaser trailer for Nintendo and Illumination Entertainment’s long-in-gestation Super Mario Bros. animated film unsurprisingly posted a whole host of Disk Horse, up to and including the voice cast, which includes celebrities like Chris Pratt and Jack Black as Mario and Bowser, among many others. Since these are among my favorite subjects to endlessly pontificate on, here’s a list of a various thoughts I had on the trailer and various flavors of opinions being tossed around:

-In terms of the trailer itself, I was quite suitably impressed! I was skeptical of the ability to thread the needle between the requirements of an American family film and the more freewheeling Japanese whimsy of the Mario franchise at large. Especially since, well, the last time we tried, we got 1993′s Super Mario Bros., an infamously bizarre boondoggle that seemed to think kids really wanted to see a cyberpunk dystopian version of the Mushroom Kingdom. Not helping is that Illumination is fairly hit or miss as a studio. The first Despicable Me remains an enjoyable outing (though I prefer that year’s Megamind in terms of a supervillain reformation story), and I liked Sing quite a bit more than I thought I would, largely thanks to Garth Jennings applying his history as a music video director to animation in ways I thought were quite novel. But on the whole, they exemplify much of what I dislike about American family films: loud, frenetic, barely letting the audience have a breath, and when they DO try and slow down and be dramatic, it rarely works in the same deft way that their competitors have made a stock in trade. In particular, I will never forget or forgive the complete fuckup that is the film version of The Lorax, one of the worst major animated features of the past decade.

-By contrast, directors Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic of Teen Titans Go fame (or infamy, depending on your POV) seem to have succeeded quite well at showing off a slightly gentler fantasy adventure vibe based on this glimpse. The primary focus on a singular sequence-Bowser’s invasion of the penguin kingdom-is smart, building tension with his arrival and then decimation, balancing things well with comedy beats like the penguins’ ineffectual snowball throwing. Even the penguin king (Khary Payton, likely doing a favor for his TTG buddies) comes off as a distinct character with the contrast between his regal manner and diminutive design. And the transition to Mario landing in the Mushroom Kingdom (seemingly going back to his original backstory of being a plumber from New York rather than a native), then meeting Toad is artful. Toad himself, played by a pitched-up Keegan Michael-Key, gets a funny moment that is refreshingly non-obnoxious, and we get a quick tease of Luigi (Charlie Day, perfect casting, no notes) running in fear from a bunch of Dry Bones into a gothic castle.

-Bowser himself is just fucking awesome and is very likely to be the best thing about this film. I had already been onboard for Black’s casting because he’s proven to be an excellent voice actor in the past with starring roles like Po in the Kung Fu Panda franchise. What pleasantly surprised me here that he’s thoroughly committing to a monster-y growl as Bowser rather than just using his normal voice. And he’s quite menacing in a way I’ve never quite heard from him before, booming and throwing his considerable weight around. I’m eager to see how he balances that with Bowser’s more comedic side, especially as relating to his amorous intentions towards Princess Peach. (Also, he’d better have a proper Villain Song)

-Which brings us to the other casting, namely Chris Pratt as Mario, who only gets two quick lines here. I was as confused as anyone by the casting at first, but his initial showing here has me more convinced he can pull off the creators’ vision for the part. Namely, he seems to be applying a faux New York accent rather than attempting to imitate Charles Martinet’s high-pitched iconic Italian squeakiness. I think this is a good acting decision on multiple fronts. I can’t picture that voice working well across the space of a feature film if we are meant to take Mario seriously as a character, and going for a lighter accent is easier to keep up across a full performance.

-Of course, this is hardly the only reason his casting was met with controversy and derision. Pratt, once a darling of the internet for projects like Parks & Recreation and Guardians of the Galaxy, has become more divisive in recent years due to both his acting limitations being exposed in other films and some apparently poor social views due to being both Christian and a member of a homophobic California church called Hillsong. Pratt himself has not said much on the matter beyond some slightly lunkheaded comments about Hollywood not being interested in blue-collar action movie protagonists. Now, as a queer guy myself, I certainly don’t like this about his life, but since he has not been an openly hateful presence to my knowledge (I don’t even know if he still attends Hillsong), it’s been easier to ignore. He has also been defended by his Guardians director James Gunn (who famously has a “no assholes on set” rule) and his Jurassic World co-star Bryce Dallas Howard, who recently revealed he helped negotiate an equal salary for her on those films. I don’t begrudge anyone who looks askance at him for his associations, but to me at least, this is not a situation like Jared Leto, who is both a weak/limited actor at this point in his career AND an asshole diva who may also be a cult leader via his shitty band.

-And there’s the other side of this, which is the actual talent scale. Like many actors who settle into screen star personas, Pratt has decided on “goofy manchild action hero” being his stock in trade for the most part. This is reflected in aforementioned roles like Guardians (where a frequent part of Quill’s character development is trying and not always succeeding to grow past those tendencies), as well as his voice acting roles like Emmet in The Lego Movie and Barley in Onward (a role that would have arguably been played by, well, Jack Black ten years ago). I don’t think this in and of itself is a problem, especially if they are pitching Mario to be an everyman protagonist. And let’s be honest, that’s at least SOMETHING compared to his current status as a monosyllabic mascot. Much like his Sega counterpart Sonic the Hedgehog, you need a little more meat to chew on in a feature film context. I think Pratt has done well in these roles (Onward in particular has some real heartbreaking moments thanks to his interplay with Tom Holland) and has thus proven he can hang in with a lead role that fits this context, as this Mario seems to be.

-Finally we come to the last part of the debate: whether Pratt should be playing this role at all compared to Martinet, who has paid his dues for over 25 years as the official voice of this character. I have no issue with Martinet; he has fulfilled that task admirably as well as offered more ambitious work as characters like Paathurnax in Skyrim. And he seemingly has a cameo in this film, which could net him more visibility and appreciation. Career voice actor Kevin Michael Richardson also has a role as Kamek, Bowser’s court wizard, in the film, so it doesn’t seem like that side of the industry is being ignored entirely (esp. since, as said, Horvath and Jelenic work quite extensively with actors like Payton and Richardson). But it has opened up the debate about picking high-profile celebrities compared to career VAs, who often do a lot more work and even now don’t always get the recognition they deserve. Let me be clear on my own standing: I adore voice acting and voice actors of all stripes. I consider some like the aforementioned Richardson, the king of kings Mel Blanc, Rob Paulsen, Frank Welker, Matthew Mercer, Cree Summer, Eric Bauza, and Laura Bailey to be among my personal icons and heroes. They absolutely deserve credit, respect, and proper pay for what they do.

-However. I think that we are in a place now where we can admit that many on-camera celebrities have developed the ability to give good performances even if they are often tapping into a pre-existing persona. It is a different skillset to only use your voice as opposed to appearing on-camera, but I have always thought that how this is spoken of makes it sound impossible for all but a select few like the late Robin Williams in groundbreaking performances like the Genie in Aladdin. And I don’t believe that is the case. I think voice acting is a broad range that can support different styles depending on the project, and that is not always “cartoon” acting where one is trading on an ability to do various exaggerated over-the-top accents and character types. Look at an actor like Kevin Conroy, who transitioned effectively from on-camera work because he gave psychological realism and weight to an iconic character like Batman. In both that and much of his other VA work, he is not doing “cartoon” acting, but finding the character within his natural speaking voice. Thus, an actor sounding “like themselves” can have its proper place depending on what the requirements of the story and character. While it is true that some actors have not appreciated this difference (such as Chris Rock infamously bragging that it was “easy” to play the zebra Marty in the Madagascar film series), I think we have come a long way from misbegotten projects like DreamWorks’ Shark Tale, where celebrities like Will Smith played pale imitations of themselves married to ugly-as-sin character designs.

-This may be a little off-topic, but I do think this has also improved things for diversity in its own way. The American voice acting scene has generally been majority white even for characters of color for much of its history, and this has often led to ugly burlesques and racial caricatures created with little regard for those characters’ actual lived experiences. Many have spoken of the difficulty of breaking into the industry because of these biases, as well as feeling typecast in “ethnic” roles rather than being allowed to explore a full range as an actor. (I will not get into the issue of POC actors themselves playing characters of different races, as I don’t think that is the same thing, nor do I feel qualified to speak on behalf of actors who do this) This has improved significantly in recent decades even if we still have a long way to go, and I think part of that can be attributed to not always relying on the primary voice acting talent pools. Take a film like Encanto, which has a mix of live-action celebrities with extensive VA experience (Stephanie Beatriz, John Leguizamo) and many Hispanic actors making their animation debuts like Jessica Darrow as Luisa. Because of this, there is a real authenticity to their performances that aids the cultural focus on Colombia in the film. I don’t know that you get that unless you think outside the box; indeed, Beatriz herself was considered for Luisa before the film crew met her and discovered she’s much more like Mirabel in real life compared to her other, more deadpan roles.

All of this is to say that ultimately, I’m just another guy with an opinion. If you don’t like Pratt or his casting as Mario, that’s your prerogative. I just like keeping an open mind, and we’ll see how things shake out next April.

#the super mario bros. movie #voice acting #animation #illumination entertainment

[teachingmycattoread]

Things We’ve Yelled About This Episode #3.0

“When shall we three meet again?” Act I Scene 1, Macbeth, William Shakespeare.

Pong (game)

Jane Austen

Garth Nix

Brandon Sanderson

Discworld (Terry Pratchett)

Terry Pratchett

Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Mansfield Park, Jane Austen

Emma, Jane Austen

Sanditon, Jane Austen

Emma (2020)

“How very dare”, The Catherine Tate Show (2004-2007)

The Old Kingdom (Garth Nix)

Terciel and Elinor, Garth Nix

Nicholas Sayre and the Creature in the Case, Garth Nix

The Keys to the Kingdom series, Garth Nix

Mister Monday, Grim Tuesday, Garth Nix

Tamora Pierce

Supernatural (2005-2020)

The Empty (fandom wiki)

Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman

Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett

Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett

Wyrd Sisters, Terry Pratchett

Witches Abroad, Terry Pratchett

A Gothmog:

A Wook:

Tower of Babel (wiki)

Sam Vimes, Lady Sybil; Discworld characters

Benoit Blanc (fictional detective - see Knives Out (2019) and Glass Onion (2022))

Dorothy L Sayers

Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Death on the Nile, Agatha Christie

Death on the Nile (2022)

William Shakespeare

Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare

Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare

Hamlet, William Shakespeare

The Lion King (1994)

Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

David Tennant (imdb)

The Raven Tower, Ann Leckie

Ancillary series, Ann Leckie

Small Gods, Terry Pratchett

Blorbo from my shows (meme)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1984-1985)

Jeremy Brett (imdb)

Hound of the Baskervilles, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Leverage (2008-2012)

Leverage Season 5 Episode 9:The Run Down Job

Alec Hardison (Leverage character)

Sherlock (2010-2017)

Sherlock Season 2 Episode 2: The Hounds of Baskerville

Elementary (2012-2019)

Elementary, Season 2 Episode 18: The Hound of the Cancer Cells

Alanna the Lioness, Tamora Pierce

Jeeves and Wooster, P. G. Wodehouse

Ask Jeeves

Yahoo

Google

*hacker voice* I’m in (meme)

Press f in the chat (wiki)

Clippy (wiki)

Matt Berry (imdb)

Ben Kearns, voice actor on twitter who does Matt Berry impressions (example)

Map Men on the pronunciation of British placenames (youtube)

Howl’s Moving Castle, Dianna Wynne Jones

Howl’s Moving Castle (2004)

The Four Branches of the Mabinogi (wiki)

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (wiki)

Green Knight (2021)

Dev Patel (imdb)

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

Merlin (2008-2012)

“Are you aware that your wife is a troll, sire?” Merlin Season 2 Episodes 5 & 6: Beauty and the Beast (youtube)

Charlie Hunnam (imdb)

Jude Law (imdb)

Pacific Rim (2013)

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

Vortigern (wiki)

Eric Bana (imdb)

Guy Ritchie (imdb)

Gildas (wiki)

Ambrosius Aurelianus (wiki)

Gideon the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss (meme)

The Final Empire, Brandon Sanderson

Temeraire series, Naomi Novik

Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer

Uzumaki, Junji Ito

Wheel of Time (2021 - ?)

Stormlight Archive, Brandon Sanderson

Man makes plans and God laughs (Yiddish proverb) 

The Twitter Fiasco (wiki)

King Chaz, aka King Charles III of England, aka. Parasite in Chief in his Idiot Hat

The Crown estate vs. Twitter (BBC article)

Whispers Underground, Ben Aaronovitch

Rivers of London series, Ben Aaronovitch

Next Time on Teaching My Cat To Read

The Inimitable Jeeves, P. G. Wodehouse

#tmctr #tmctr ref

[the-firebird69]

The two goofballs filming us with Trump and Terry the two idiots next door so I'm bringing the lawsuit against them today in Worcester. It's kind of an armpit we had a life there and had fun and yeah it's Hera again, and no I put my name there dummy. They probably want to go to court just to hear my voice I don't really strange sounding voice very cute and almost hypnotic and I used to say Lion King and that's coming out he says that Garth is in the movie no the other movie the one about the Lion King. It's a real live one though and there's an overlap in the movies. We had a lot of fun people looking at the videos. But he crapped into my life and he messed with ghwb messed up the election and is Dr Miller and I mean I'm going to testify he is and he messed with his mom because he threatened me out of his life by threatening his mom. He's doing more than that too he was harassing him and me and I had a harassment suit against him and they know who he is his printer on file he thanks me and I hope we get to see each other maybe in court he said yeah like Max headroom if you do that for Christ's sake you mean the video thing said I'll be fine forget night's sleep or something so I say it's the opposite but okay

Carrie MacLeod

[garthofshayeris]

how to tell if Aquaman content is bad: characters are referring to Arthur as “my king” or “your majesty” unironically

#Garth voice: my king? I didn’t vote for you. #besties we gotta get away from weirdly formal atlanteans #and return to our roots as ‘Atlantis is ruled by a literal group of random weirdos’ again #the way silver age Aquaman and Aqualad just took over the entire monarchy bc they were popular and fun akskfjghd

[vivacissimx]

In ASOS, we see Stannis's method for dealing with rapists as a standard punitive one. Gelding is generally the punishment for rape in Westeros, although it's fair to say most monarchs don't seem particularly interested in administering that punishment (much less when the victim is lowborn/the rapist is a noble ex. Tywin/Robert with Gregor Clegane, Randyll Tarly telling Brienne the "blame is yours" re: the wagers for her virginity)

"All I did was protect Val and the babe against looters when the wildlings fled, and keep them there until the rangers found us. I never captured anyone. King Stannis keeps his men well in hand, that's plain. He lets them plunder some, but I've only heard of three wildling women being raped, and the men who did it have all been gelded. I suppose I should have been killing the free folk as they ran. Ser Alliser has been putting it about that the only time I bared my sword was to defend our foes. I failed to kill Mance Rayder because I was in league with him, he says."

-ASOS, Samwell IV

[Jon's not particularly praising Stannis there, more stating that his own contributions in defending Val and Dalla against looters were minimal because there weren't many looters anyway.] However even this basic nod to custom is more than Jon was accustomed to at the Wall. The Night's Watch is full of convicted rapists, and when the ranging expedition comes to Craster's Keep where Craster is raping his own daughters the most we get is... this.

Any man lays a hand on my wives, he loses the hand."

"Your roof, your rule," said Thoren Smallwood, and Lord Mormont nodded stiffly, though he looked none too pleased.

-ACOK, Jon III

Craster had nineteen wives, but none who'd dare interfere once he started up that ladder. No more than the black brothers had two nights past, when he was beating one of the younger girls. There had been mutterings, to be sure. "He's killing her," Garth of Greenaway had said, and Clubfoot Karl laughed and said, "If he don't want the little sweetmeat he could give her to me." Black Bernarr cursed in a low angry voice, and Alan of Rosby got up and went outside so he wouldn't have to hear. "His roof, his rule," the ranger Ronnel Harclay had reminded them. "Craster's a friend to the Watch."

-ASOS, Sam II

Gelding functions as a deterrent but it isn't directly preventative. Meanwhile the Watch's punishment for sworn celibate men who have sex (consensual or not) with wildling women, whores, etc. is nonexistent.

Something I find interesting about Jon's time as Lord Commander is that he proactively deals with the reality of having plentiful women at The Wall. He doesn't turn a blind eye to the risks of it, knowing that there is a degree of unavoidable mingling, but he also doesn't adopt the harsh view held by the likes of Randyll Tarly, that therefore the only solution is for women to be removed entirely.

"Hardin's Tower." Of the sixty-three who had come back with him from Mole's Town, nineteen had been women and girls. Jon had housed them in the same abandoned tower where he had once slept when he had been new to the Wall. Twelve were spearwives, more than capable of defending both themselves and the younger girls from the unwanted attentions of black brothers. It was some of the men they'd turned away who'd given Hardin's Tower its new, inflammatory name. Jon was not about to condone the mockery. "Three drunken fools mistook Hardin's for a brothel, that's all. They are in the ice cells now, contemplating their mistake."

-ADWD, Jon VII

It was already controversial for Jon to allow women/girls from Mole's Town to volunteer, but he clearly took into account his experiences with the whores of Mole's Town assisting with the defense of the Wall against the wildlings, and his time spent among spearwives. Mindful of the particular vulnerability of the girls he hadn't actually meant to bring (he goes from allowing girls 16+ to join him to girls 12+, after a wildling girl who reminds him of Arya speaks up), he pairs them with spearwives to defend them against predation. Almost immediately, this pays off.

The fact that the attempted mingling is punished by time in the ice cells is also a preventative touch - it makes even the attempt of rape a crime.

One of the underappreciated parts of this, however, is that Jon's plan relies on utilizing a part of free folk culture against the Black Brothers themselves. The concept of spearwives who administer their own justice without coming to a lord/higher authority figure isn't within the legal framework of Westeros. It also represents a growth of Jon's own thinking, because his initial ACOK view of "stealing" women is a scornful one (They have no laws, no honor, not even simple decency) yet quickly he comes to recognize the utility of their ways enough to rely on them. There is a newfound appreciation for their customs and capabilities.

"You should put guards around the women."

"And who will guard the guards?" You know nothing, Jon Snow. He had learned, though, and Ygritte had been his teacher. If he could not hold to his own vows, how could he expect more of his brothers? But there were dangers in trifling with wildling women. A man can own a woman, and a man can own a knife, Ygritte had told him once, but no man can own both. Bowen Marsh had not been all wrong. Hardin's Tower was tinder waiting for a spark. "I mean to open three more castles," Jon said. "Deep Lake, Sable Hall, and the Long Barrow. All garrisoned with free folk, under the command of our own officers. The Long Barrow will be all women, aside from the commander and chief steward." There would be some mingling, he did not doubt, but the distances were great enough to make that difficult, at least.

-ADWD, Jon VIII

Tormund scratched his beard. "A hostage is a hostage, seems to me. That big sharp sword o' yours can snick a girl's head off as easy as a boy's. A father loves his daughters too. Well, most fathers."

It is not their fathers who concern me. "Did Mance ever sing of Brave Danny Flint?"

"Not as I recall. Who was he?"

"A girl who dressed up like a boy to take the black. Her song is sad and pretty. What happened to her wasn't." In some versions of the song, her ghost still walked the Nightfort. "I'll send the girls to Long Barrow." The only men there were Iron Emmett and Dolorous Edd, both of whom he trusted. That was not something he could say of all his brothers.

-ADWD, Jon XII

He doesn't use his trust in the spearwives ability to handle themselves to absolve him of his own responsibility to protect the girls he sees as under his own care, however. There's still a tension there.

It's also not purely egalitarianism that drives him. It's necessity, to strengthen the Wall against the Others regardless of what that takes, but it's also a moment of Jon learning from his experiences & learning from those around him. One of the most fleshed out wildling women in asoiaf is Gilly, and Sam is the one who values/respects/is trusted by Gilly foremost. Sam is the one who advocates for Gilly when he first meets her, while Jon is still angsting over his duty v honor in the whole situation. The respect between Jon and the spearwives is imperfect, learned, & earned.

But it's also rooted in something that was there before, from his upbringing as an outsider and therefore being sympathetic to other outsiders as well. An old notion of injustice that he's seeking to correct:

Jon shrugged. "Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but not the arms. I did not make the rules, little sister."

-AGOT, Arya I

Not then he didn't. But now he does.

#jon snow #jonsnowmonth2022 #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #not a meta for a particular day i'm just talking my shit #text

[babycatglimmer]

We all have a consensus that the Titans are a bunch of sarcastic rebels, right? I strongly imagine them simply being mocked by the Justice League when they tried to rule the Titans. They are a separate team, what does the League think they have any kind of jurisdiction over them? I imagine Bruce and Dick staring at each other until Bruce accepts that when he is with the Titans, Robin will not listen to him.

Even though they are not technically part of the recurring team as they used to be, they continue to defend the ideas they created years ago. The League was unable to dominate the OG, so it tries to control the younger ones and they make a point of remembering that titans do not belong to them and give the younger ones the right to choose.

[Batman: I don't think this mission should be yours!

Nightwing: And since when do you know what kind of mission the Titans should have Batman? As far as I know the Titans are a separate team from the League, and even if they have an alliance it doesn't make you the leader of the Titans. Want to dominate a team of youth heroes? Go to Young Justice, as they have a direct connection with you and not the Titans. If the current leader of the Titans thinks they are capable, then why argue? This is their business, not yours.

Batman: .. Fine ...]

[B.Flash: I just think-

W.Flash: You shouldn't think anything Uncle, the titans have always been on their own. If they need any advice, I'm sure the seniors loved talking about it. Since the Titans are old, with an exorbitant number of members, they do not need the opinion of anyone outside the team in my view. Especially from someone who comes from just an alliance

B.Flash: Very fair, have a good day]

[Arrow: I-

Arsenal: No.

Arrow: You didn't even let me talk

Arsenal: And it’s still no, you don’t have the right to opine on a team that isn’t yours]

[Aquaman: Maybe they should back down, it’s too dangerous for simple kids

Tempest: I'm sorry to tell you this, my king, but even if they are only children, they have the right to do what they think is best. After all, Titans is not directly linked to Atlantic as a team there, not even the Justice League has a right to dominance of that team. As a leader you should respect that they are not servants, but allies who work in the same way as you, my king. I hope you don't take it as an offense, but you have no right to rule the Titans, let alone give an unwanted opinion.

Aquaman: Alright, I will not argue with you Garth]

[Wonderwoman: I don't think they can do that

Troia: You don't have to think that they can do that. Whether they succeed or not, it has nothing to do with you Wonderwoman, they have been trained and are experimenting alone on how to get out of risky situations. If they need advice I'm sure that one of the old titans will be able to advise, since they are part of the same team, and not someone from the outside. Not wanting to be rude

Wonderwoman: You don't need that, I'm sure you want to be rude

Troia: Maybe]

Sometimes the League is right? Yes, absolutely, but they will never admit it. The league thought bad the old villains or sons of super villains that the Titans accepted in their team, for them many of the Titans would be far away or imprisoned.

The founders just want each child to be able to find their home with the Titans, to know that they are not alone. They hated taking orders from people who didn't even hear them right, so they didn't let the Titans have their voices muffled.

Many titans, especially those with family ties to the founders, are surprised when they so vigorously defend them and their sometimes insane plans. It makes them feel good, and they end up relying more on the founders for advice and help in some situations.

And part of that protection comes from revenge, as the League did not even let them give their opinion when they were younger even in matters that involved them. Titans was enough of that and a rematch, if no titan could argue equally with a member of the league then the league had no right to argue equally with a titan

#titans #titans og #garth #dick grayson #donna troy #wally west #roy harper #nightwing #flash #arsenal #troia #tempest #aquaman #wonderman #batman #arrow #red arrow #speedy #wondergirl #aqualad #robin #dc #dc comics #young justice #tim drake #conner kent #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #barry allen #bruce wayne

[dcforts]

[day 12: the one with the dancing + day 16: family]

The bunker is quiet.

Even the giggling from the girls’ room has stopped.

Cas starts the last dishwasher and sighs. They did it.

His back hurts, his feet are heavy and his neck is stiff, and now he thinks that conveniently falling asleep on the couch right before the end of the night was nothing but a strategy on Sam’s part. He should have done the same.

Sure, everyone had volunteered to help, but Dean had been resolute and unwavering. They all had a long journey and they needed the rest, there was no way he’d let them lift a finger in his kitchen.

A Winchester treat package, Christmas edition.

Even when Jody had stayed behind and insisted, Dean hadn’t wanted to hear it.

“Is not cooking, decorating and serving enough?”

“We invited you for the whole deal Jody,” Dean had said, physically blocking her from entering the kitchen. “Go to bed. We got it,” and he’d said it with such convinction that Jody could only shake her head and relent. 

“Fine,” she’d said, shoving a finger in his face, “but I’m never again letting you doing my dishes when you come over.”

Dean had just huffed a laugh and taken the last dirty plate from her hands.

Cas was already in the kitchen at that point, sorting through leftovers and empty bottles.

That was – Cas doesn’t know how long ago. It’s been a while since he’s checked a clock.

But he knows Dean is throwing out the last of the trash and the kitchen is clean and ready to be stained again. So he feels like they did it.

He goes back to the main rooms for a quick check to see if they missed anything, and he ends up stepping on a piece of wrapping paper and tape that starts squeaking at every step. He sighs, walks to the nearest chair and lets himself sink into it.

He peels off the piece of paper, but then he can’t bring himself to get up again.

He’ll just be a minute, he tells himself, just to get his back some respite. He’ll get up when he’ll hear Dean come back.

He props an elbow on the armrest and his head on his hand and wonders if he can hear the dishwasher beep from there.

He had no idea that holidays could be so exhausting.

Barely sleeping in anticipation of all the things that had to be done, working tiredlessly in tidying up and preparing for guests, last minute shopping, wrapping, cooking.

And then, having everyone around all the time, talking and laughing. From the moment the girls from Sioux Falls had invaded the bunker that afternoon, Cas is pretty sure he hasn’t had a single moment alone. Even when he’d gone to the bathroom at one point, Garth had followed him to get him to hold little Cas for a picture.

And that’s not to mention: keeping everyone out of the kitchen, setting up board games, save Claire from choking with laughter watching Donna and Dean singing and air guitaring to their own rock version of Jingle Bell Rock, alchool spilling, gifts opening, “Please don’t read that book out loud, there could be a deadly spell in there”.

And after dinner, directing everyone to their assigned bedroom, keeping them there, taking care of who needed extra blankets, who wanted extra pillows, teethbrushes, slippers, babies crying and drunken giggles.

Complete, utter chaos.

But now sitting there, in the quiet room and with the Christmas tree twinkling a few feet away, Cas thinks: a really good day.

He so wishes he was already tucked under the covers in an horizontal position, though.

A sound startles him from his thoughts. Dean takes the steps to the library in one jump. “Hey, all done?” he asks, and doesn’t sound at all like someone who’s been up since dawn.

“Dishwasher,” Cas says, stifling a yawn.

Dean stands a few feet from him and smiles fondly, “You can go if you want. I can handle it.”

His tone is charming and lively and Cas can’t possibly understand how he has any energy left when he can barely keep his eyes open.

Still, he shakes his head, “You can go if you want. I’ll stay up. You’ve done more than anyone else.”

“Alright, we’ll both stay up then,” settles it Dean, “Are you gonna fall asleep on that chair?”

“Mh,” says Cas who’s actually amazed at how incredibly comfortable his own hand is.

He hears Dean walking around him.

“How much longer for the dishwasher?”

“No idea.”

“Let’s say four minutes, uh?”

What he says doesn’t make any sense to Cas, not until sweet and soulful music starts filling the air around him.

Dean comes back into his space and when Cas blinks his eyes open, there’s a hand in front of him, palm up, in offering.

“Come on.”

“Dean,” he groans, but he’s already accepting it and letting himself be pulled up.

“I’m doing this so that you don’t fall asleep,” Dean says, his voice low, walking backward and dragging him along until they are in a clear space.

“I’ll just fall asleep on your shoulder.”

Dean stops and their chest touch. “I’ll allow it.”

Chestnut roasting on an open fire, sings the record and Cas drops his head on Dean’s shoulder and circles his waist. He closes his eyes and it feels like losing touch with reality a bit – he lets himself fall and fall into the warmth of his body, the smell of food on his clothes, the strong grip of his hand. Dean is solid and perfect and makes him feel lighter and Cas is much more comfortable than he was a second ago.

“We’re supposed to be moving, Cas, you’re just hugging me,” comes Dean’s amused voice from someplace around his ear.

Cas sighs but slowly starts swaying to the rhythm of the record as it sings, Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe, help to make the season bright.

“Do you think they’ll be up early?” Cas asks, mouth pressed against Dean’s sweater.

“Yeah. But we’ll have Sam sort out breakfast.”

“We need to lock the door.”

Dean lets out a laugh and raises a hand to stroke his hair. “Come on, it hasn’t been that bad.”

As he laughs his whole chest vibrates and his muscles shift, and Cas, pressed against him, starts to feel more alive. It’s all Dean, he knows - it’s the life and light he contains. It’s always been like that with him.

“Well, now I’m feeling much better,” he says and he means it.

“Yeah? Wanna go again from the start?”

Cas pulls back a little to look at him. This close, he can see clearly the bags under his eyes, but also the way they still sparkle, “Are you actually serious? You’d do that?”

Dean shrugs and leans in for a quick kiss before saying, “Sure.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah, but - more happy than tired.”

“And you’d do it - all over again? Even the part when I dropped the tray with the starters?”

“Yep.”

“Even when Charlie spilled sauce on Bobby, when Garth told that superlong story about his kids? Even when we caught Sam and Eileen making out in the bathroom and then there was that big fight over charades?”

“A thousand times,” he says, and he buries his face into Cas’ hair, “if it means I get to be with the whole family and you, at the end of it all.”

“Well, you’re very sweet, really. But I’d rather we just disappear until New Year’s.”

Dean laughs again, “I’m not the one who promised Claire a foosball rematch.”

Cas lets out a pained sigh and shifts to press his lips against Dean’s neck , “I’d forgotten about that. Why did you let me do it?”

“Cause you love it.”

They fall quiet as the record takes a breath and starts singing again, And so I’m offering a simple phrase, to kids from one to ninety-two.

Cas starts kissing a trail up the side of Dean’s neck.

“Mh,” says Dean swallowing, his voice suddenly raspy, “alright, we’re locking the door.”

Although it’s been said many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you, sings the record.

They let it sing.

The dishwasher beeps. They don’t hear it.

joining @bend-me-shape-me in doing this!

The Christmas Song sang by Nat King Cole

#SPNAdventCalendar2020 #deancas ficlet #deancas #destiel fanfic #fluff #1.3k #dean is the Sappiest #i kinda fell in love w him writing this #he loves his family v much #but im cas 100% #i always wanted to write ab them slowdancing :') #my fave christmas song :') #they have a dishwasher at the bunker now #my writing

[ask-marios-apprentice]

Golf with Junior

Well today was hectic.

Let's start with the shuttle pick up. I was picked up at around 8 and seated with my partner. The first thing he said to me was that "Your dad's former nemisis's apprentice" I was a little nervous when he said that.

He then put his hand out and said "no hard feelings".

It turns out he was a pretty chill guy, a little juvenile but otherwise fine.

We got to the golfing location and met are opponents.

Jeffy, another famous kid who was the son of a famous painter, and his adopted father Marvin, Bowsers accountant.

They were the guys from the sandwich shop if you remember that.

Thankfully they didn't remember me, (probably because they were too busy yelling at each other).

Before we began we have to sign in at the front desk, pick up our golf clubs...and enable a dash ability. If you don't know what that is, it's a ability that allows you to cover a lot of distance. It would be helpful since we were playing Speed golf.

Marvin had "Green bean power" by eating green beans, he had a burst of healthy energy.

Jeffy had "Time for a tantrum" where I Jeffy has a tantrum and then, due to the adrenaline given from the tantrum, Is he able to run faster. (I think)

Junior would use his clown car to move faster.

As for me, I would apparently (until further notice) be using a golf cart on loan.

We got to our first hole. We all played at the same time. Dashing , putting, repeat.

I'm just going to skip to lunch because and that would just be filler.

Me and Junior were a little bit behind Marvin and Jeffy. We were halfway through though of course so we decided to stop for lunch.

Jeffy had a bowl of macaroni and cheese. Marvin had a steak with a side of green beans. Junior had a burger. And I had a shrimp platter.

Jeffy and Marvin were trying to just mind their own Business that way they would not get into a another argument. Me and Bowser Jr decided to get to know each other a bit.

Garth: So do you think you'll take up your father's mantle?

Bowser Jr: Maybe. I don't know if I'm really cut out to be king or not. I don't really have any plans for when I'm older.

Garth. Oh.

Bowser Jr: Yeah

Bowser Jr: So what is it like being Mario's apprentice.

Garth: it's all right. It's really exciting to get to know this world that I've only ever viewed through a screen for most of my life.

Bowser Jr: You know, I don't really play those main line games. I mostly just play the sports spinoffs. I don't really enjoy seeing myself as the bad guy anymore.

Garth: Look dude, it's all right. People grow and change all the time. Also you got to remember, a lot of those adventures happened a long while ago. It takes a while from a video game to be made.

Bowser Jr: I never thought about it that way.

We finished up our food and started to walk to the next hole.

When we putted, Mario and Jeffy accidentally threw there golf clubs into One of the lakes.

They called a time out and as they tried to find it.

While waiting, Junior face timed his friends.

He has two named Cody and Joseph. They seem to have a good relationship as friends.

Then the call had been interrupted by a weird noise.

SUDDENLY A GIANT WATER STORM HAD ARISEN!!!

As it rose up I heard a incredibly loud voice say.

"MARVIN AND JEFFY, FOR YOUR PUNISHMENT FOR NOT JUST DECEIVING ME, BUT ALSO ANNOYING ME WITH YOUR CONSTANT BICKERING!!! YOU AND THIS GOLF COURSE WILL BE DROWNED BY A MASS FLOODING."

Then suddenly a large entity had risen up with I assume, Marvin and Jeffy.

Me and Junior had to run for cover we didn't know what to do.

We hid behind where they were keeping the golf carts. I sent an SOS call for help.

Bowser Junior: AW MAN, I THOUGHT IF I GOT BEAT UP TODAY IT WOULDN'T BE BY A GIANT LAKE SPIRIT!

Garth: Wait that's what it was? Also why did you think you got beat up today.

Bowser Junior: I thought I would get beat by you!

Garth: I'd never do that, not only do you seem like a nice guy. But I also thought that I might cause a war if I did or said something wrong.

Bowser Junior: What? The Koopa Kingdom wouldn't go to war due peace treaties.

Garth: I guess we both we're a bit nervous about nothing.

Bowser Junior: Yeah. Well except for the giant typhoon behind us.

Yeah, after spring through our differences and worries, we both turned our attention to the typhoon.

Luckily my mentor, his brother, and Bowser Junior's father had come to the rescue to the defeat giant typhoon.

Once the whole commotion was calmed down. You found out why that giant typhoon thing had happened. Apparently both of their golf clubs have fell into the lake that a spirit lived in. The spirit offered golden jewel-studded golf clubs to both of them. Both Marvin and Jeffy tried to take them, but I needed a bickering when trying to receive the prize that was not theirs. What was worse was that if they were honest they would have gone the original new golf clubs in addition to the old ones. Marvin and Jeffy will be sentenced to a month of community service for this action.

After that whole.

We ended did the carpooling (or clown carpooling) back to Peach's Castle. Apparently Mario, Luigi, Bowser, and Peach, need to discuss the emergence of such a powerful being.

Before we got dropped off at my house though, me and Junior had become friends, we decided that if we were going to do something again, it'd probably not be golf.

So that pretty much brings us to the current time.

Garth signing off.

#mario #garththeaprentice #mario bros #super mario bros #super mario brothers #garth #mario brothers #marios apprentice #bowser jr #Bowser junior #SML #SuperMarioLogan #Super Mario Logan #Mario Golf #Mario Golf Speed Rush #Marvin #Jeffy

[smol-and-grumpy]

Golden Cage - Prologue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She’s a spoiled little princess — at least that’s what people say. Her father is the King of all Kings, the man who everyone fears. Then, along comes Dean Winchester, the one guy who manages to see into her soul, but — — is Dean really who he says he is?

WC: 3165

A/N: This is the start of the series. If you want to read ahead, please check out my patreon. This is also written for @spnaubingo​​ but I can not reveal the square yet as it would give a lot away.

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Y/N screws the coffee piston into the machine and pushes a button. The loud rumbling sound of the machine coming to life can be heard above the chatter of the people in the restaurant as brown liquid spills into two espresso cups she placed underneath. 

While she waits for the coffee to finish dripping out, she takes a look around the restaurant. They don’t own a fancy one, because that wouldn’t be the family tradition. It’s a restaurant that opens for the breakfast crowd and stays open for the night owls, so there’s always a crowd gathered around here from morning till night. This means that she has plenty to do and organize and the workdays keep her occupied.

The morning faces are mostly the same. People stopping for breakfast before work, but mostly they are people who have some kind of connection to her father or they respect his organization enough to come here. There are a lot of people who avoid it, though, and she can’t blame them. Y/N nods at them as they lift their hands, telling them with her eyes that she’ll be right with them to take their orders. She has employed some waitresses and cooks, but she’s involved here as much as they are. Working here is something that gives her meaning. She’d probably die if she can’t work and get her mind off the stupid life she lives.

Placing the espressos on the tray, she turns around to grab the waffles which her cook, Garth, had laid out on the counter for her to take. 

Balancing the tray, she moves to the table of the people who were waiting for their orders, and brings them the breakfast they’ve been asking for. They are regulars, and they usually leave a good tip, so she smiles some more. 

When Y/N’s about to walk back, the bell above the door chimes, which prompts her to look. 

A tall man in a dark suit walks in, brown hair, his face slightly scruffy. She always checks out suspicious looking guys. It’s mandatory for survival. But guys in suits are nothing unusual in this place, since her dad operates from the basement of this restaurant and sometimes they would come in through the front instead of the back. The only unusual thing is, that she’s never seen this man before.

His shoulders are broad and the smile sits brightly on his face when he notices her staring, the crinkles around his eyes running deep. He nods at her as he takes a seat close to the register. 

She feels blood rushing to her head and immediately looks away.

Oh god, he looks so good. Maybe a little mysterious. That’s probably why she’s all flustered. It doesn’t happen often that a good looking guy finds his way in here. Mainly because people around here know what kind of restaurant it is, people know who the restaurant belongs to. And they certainly know that she works here, the only daughter of Azazel Lehne. This part of the city belongs to her father. No, who’s she even kidding? The whole fucking city belongs to her dad. But it’s especially this part of the city that people are more aware of him, because it’s where their HQ is based. 

Besides working in the restaurant and being at home, there’s not a lot of places she’s allowed to go and that’s really absurd since the city belongs to her dad, but there are still enough enemies around, she guesses. She’s not allowed to a lot of places, and especially not on her own. Dating is only allowed when the guy she wants to go out with undergoes a thorough background check or is a son of one of her dad’s business associates, and honestly, they all are the same macho men who disrespect women. She doesn’t want anything to do with them.

She’s gnawing on her bottom lip and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she makes her way back to the counter, the tray hugged tightly to her body. When she’s back there, she has to face him, and she’s trying to breathe evenly to calm herself down.

Placing the tray back behind the coffee machine, she clears her throat before she speaks, “Hi,” 

Wow, great, Y/N. That’s a good start. Fabulous. 

“Hey,” The man greets her and he smiles a really cute smile. She notices that he smiles with his eyes too. That’s not something a lot of people do.

She can flirt with him, right? There’s no harm in flirting. Her dad’s not here anyway. Yeah, she can flirt, but how does it work again? It feels like it has been ages! 

“What can I get you?”

He’s still smiling, like he knows something she doesn’t and she wonders if she has some breakfast leftover around her mouth? Maybe there’s something in between her teeth? She pushes the irritation out of her head and channels her inner Aphrodite, not that it probably would matter.

“A coffee, please.” 

Y/N raises her eyebrow at him as she stares him down.

The man’s smirking, “What? You do serve coffee, right?”

“We serve espressos, yeah. It’s probably not like the regular coffee you’re used to. It’s much stronger.” She braces her hands on the counter and leans forward, her lips curve into a cocky grin, “I hope that’s going to be okay? Or do you want me to weaken it and make you a cappuccino…” She stares at him some more, grins too, a little cocky maybe, and he takes the hint.

His grin replicates hers. Probably as cocky, and she can’t say that it doesn’t suit him, “Dean, you can call me Dean.”

“Okay, Dean, can you handle it? Or do you want for me to pour some milk into it?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what I can handle.” He laughs and fucking winks. 

Dean’s good at flirting. She has to give him that. She hopes she wasn’t that bad either. And now her cheeks feel hot as she nods and begins to work on the coffee machine. 

Her dad loves coffee and he always hated the pot coffees they used to have, so he bought this real fancy machine where it’s actually more work but she enjoys it. Enjoys the whole process and it really does taste better than a pot that’s been sitting warmly on its stove for hours.

Just when she sets the coffee in front of Dean, she hears the bell chime again. She tears her eyes away from the man to see her dad walking in.

He nods at her and she abandons Dean quickly, walks over to the place where he always sits. Her dad hates to be kept waiting.

“Breakfast, Dad?” She asks when she’s standing before him and watches him sitting down.

“Please, Y/N. Only coffee. I just ate at Bobby’s place. Can you bring it, and one for yourself too? And please come sit down, I need to talk to you.”

She nods but her heart thumps in her chest. Was it the flirting? Did he watch her? But again, if he did, Dean wouldn’t be sitting here, would he? Her dad would make sure to bring him down to the office and beat the shit out of him probably.

As she walks back behind the counter to make two espressos, she feels Dean’s eyes on her. He’s still sitting there, sipping on his espresso. She wonders if she’s made it too strong, because she actually did, just to throw him off and rile him up, but when she looks up again, Dean’s downing it and smiles at her after. 

She snorts. Show off.

When the two espressos are ready, she carries it over to her dad and sits down on the chair across from him, feeling a little nervous because he rarely wants her to join him. Also, he’s rarely alone and she’s glad that he is now. She hates his little soldiers, if she’s honest. They’re all spineless dicks.

They drink their coffee in silence and when he finishes, he leans back into the booth seat he’s sitting in, his fingers playing with the little mug. 

“How are you?” He asks and Y/N raises her eyebrows with irritation. Her dad doesn’t even look at her, still staring at his own fingers that are toying with the mug.

They see each other a lot since they’re living under the same roof, so she doesn’t know why he’s asking, really.

“Good.” 

“Is the restaurant keeping you busy, dear?” 

“Dad, what is it?” She blurts out. Mainly because she wants him to cut the chase. Dad can always go on and on around the fucking point.

He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly, “It’s Bobby.” 

She frowns. Bobby is the consigliere in the family. As far as she can remember, Bobby was always there. She grew up calling him Uncle, even if they’re not blood related.

“What’s with Uncle Bobby?” She can’t hide the concern in her voice. 

“Eh,” Her father says, “He’s old, you know that. He wants to retire.” 

Oh, there’s an exhale of breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She was worried something else had happened.

“And you let him?” 

Bobby’s not old old. There are people working for her dad who are much older.

“I respect the wishes of my people, Y/N.” Her father says and she almost snorted out loudly. Yeah, just not mine, she thinks.

“And you’re telling me that because?”

“I was wondering how happy you are here. I think it’s time I get you into the business too, since Bobby will be gone and I need to have someone around whom I can trust.”

You had Mom, she wanted to say, see where that got her. Her mom worked for him, or with him. She was the one he would trust the most, but her mom got killed while she was standing in the way of someone who was out to get her father. Y/N’s sure that it isn’t the life her mom wanted her child to grow up in. 

It’s really the moment she dreaded the most in her life. Her dad always let her live her life the way he thinks is suitable for her. After what happened with her mom, he actually never wanted her to join, too heartbroken with the loss. She never wanted to either, and she doesn’t think she ever will.

“But Dad—”

“—Think about it, okay? Right now, I need you by my side and it would be good if you would join us.”

Good if you would join us is translated into her language to You have no choice but to join us.

This is it, right? This is the day she’s been dreading all her life. Dad wants her to join his organization. Dad wants her to become a fucking criminal along with him. 

She looks around the restaurant. It would mean that she has to give up the place she came to love. And while her eyes are scanning the room, she notices that Dean’s not sitting there anymore. She wonders when he left, thinks about asking Jo, her other waitress if she’s seen him leave. Y/N must have been so wrapped up in her conversation with her dad that she didn’t even hear the doorbell going off. 

No, is what she wants to say. I’m happy the way things are. But instead, she trains her gaze down to the table and sighs before she speaks, “I’ll think about it.”

Right, we’ll have a party at our house tomorrow to say goodbye to Bobby. I want you to take the day off and help prepare the catering at the house.

“Okay,” 

“I’ll do some announcements then. There will be some changes within the organization. I hope you will have your mind made up by then.” 

Her father leaves to walk to the back of the restaurant without saying goodbye. 

***

On the day of the party, there’s a knock at her door. Y/N’s about to change into something more presentable after having helped with catering and setting up the party the whole day through. She just came out of the shower and her hair’s still dripping wet. Quickly she wraps a bathrobe around her body.

“Y/N?” There’s a knock again and she knows that it’s Nick. 

Ugh, she has no patience whatsoever for Nick. The biggest of dicks is what he is. Bobby once took Nick under his wing and he’s been making a move on her since he set foot into the organization. Nick’s a complete sleazeball and he probably thinks that she’s super into him. She bet he’s already planning on asking her dad if he could marry her. Ew. Oh my god, she hopes that Nick won’t become the new consigliere because that would mean that he has to live here for some time, because her father wants his consigliere close, and she doesn’t want that. Bobby used to live here himself, up until about two years ago. She guesses that he was already planning for his retirement then.

“I’m coming!” She yells as the knocking won’t stop. 

Nick’s such a pain in the ass, she swears! Y/N opens up to Nick’s smug smile but she doesn’t return it. Instead, she rolls her eyes.

“What is it?” 

“You didn’t need to cover yourself up for me, honey.” Nick grins. 

She doesn’t say anything to it. Instead, she stares him down until the grin is wiped out of his face.

Nick clears his throat, “Your dad wants to see you. In his office.” 

He eyes her up and down afterward and there’s that fucking grin again. She feels a strong urge to slap it out off his face. 

“I’ll be right there.” She mumbles and is about to close the door when Nick stops her.

“No, he wants to see you now.” 

“Ugh, fine!” She pushes past Nick and stomps away and down the stairs, walks along the hall into the east wing where her father has his office. Nick scrambles to catch up. 

When she opens the door to her father’s office, she bumps right into something firm and that something smells good too. It’s not a smell she’s used to around here. She could pick out the cologne of the people who worked for her dad from a police lineup, and most of the time, they don’t smell that nice. 

“Oh, sorry,” She says out of habit, even though she knows that she’s the princess daughter and she technically doesn’t need to say sorry to anyone but her own father around here. It’s just, she’s never been that kind of girl. She always treats people like she wants to be treated. Dad always said that she got it from her Mom. 

There’s a deep chuckle as she takes a step to the side and she remembers that voice. Remembers the deep sound of a bass. It’s smooth and light. It sounds super nice. 

Looking up, she almost has to clasp her hand over her mouth. 

Dean.

He smirks at her then, but he doesn’t say anything. Because why should he, they all only speak when they are spoken to. Little cowards who read her dad’s mind and do what he says, no fucking questions asked. 

Y/N’s a little sad that Dean’s in here, though. A little sad that he’s one of dad’s little soldiers.

Her dad sees her and clears his throat before he speaks, “Is everything ready for tonight, Y/N?”

“Yes,” She answers and looks around the room. Bobby’s here, and so are a couple of other men. She knows them all. The only new face is Dean.

“Good, I want you to wear something nice, can you do that?” 

“I’ll see.” 

Her father laughs and it sounds uneasy. He hates it when she undermines his authority. But that’s just how she is. He can bet she’s going to find some ugly thing to wear, for sure. 

“Kids, huh?” Her dad says to one of his capos, she knows as Crowley, the weasel. 

The man nods with a chuckle.

The only people in the room who aren’t laughing are Dean and Bobby. 

“You can go now.” Her father says.

“Okay,” She turns around and stomps away, but not without slamming the door shut, for fucking good measure.

While she walks back to her room, she can’t help to think what that was all about? He called her in just to say that she should wear something nice? What the fuck? What happens to phones or texts? She had to walk half a mile to tell him that his party is set up? God, her dad can be such a fucking dick, too. She thinks he’s the biggest dick of them all.

Also what the fuck is Dean doing here? What part does he play?

“Hey,” She hears the voice now as she takes the first step on the stairs that leads up to the bedrooms.

Y/N freezes mid-walk. She knows exactly who the voice belongs to. 

“What?” She turns her head to snap at Dean.

“Just wanted to see if you’re okay,” 

She turns around to see him clutching at the railing looking up at her with a frown on his face.

“Yeah, I am.” 

It’s a lie but it feels like this whole damn life is a lie. She doesn’t belong here in this fucking golden cage, but she doesn’t need to pour her heart out to someone she barely knows, so she bites on her tongue.

Dean snorts, “Yeah, you sound just peachy,” 

She snorts, “I’m sorry, why are you here again? Shouldn’t you be in the room with the big boys? My father will notice you missing and I don’t think he’d like for you to talk with his daughter unsupervised.”

“Eh,” He shrugs and there’s that cocky grin again, “‘M not afraid of your father, and besides, I like taking risks.”

There’s something about the man that stands before her. Something… defiant. He’s like her. They are similar, she realizes. There’s also something else… something she can’t quite put her finger on. He looks absolutely gorgeous in his suit, and his eyes — they are so green, but also dark as they stare at her. There’s a cloud of mystery surrounding him and she knows that she should be alerted, should maybe be careful, but instead, there’s something that draws her to him.

After she notices that she’s probably been staring at him for too long, she clears her throat, “Right,” Y/N says, “I’m okay, and you can return to your stupid meeting.”

Dean doesn’t answer and she turns around to walk up the stairs. Y/N feels his eyes on her all along the way up, but when she turns around on the landing, he’s gone.

Chapter.01

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#golden cage #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester series #nathalie writes

[supernatural-jackles]

The Arrangement

Title: The Arrangement

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,376

Warnings: Hunt Gone Wrong, SPN Level Angst, Anxiety, Mentions of Sex,  Tears, Cuddles, Fluff. 

Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, you take Dean up on the extremely useful  arrangement you both agreed on many years ago to help you get through the night. 

Squares Filled: Hurt/Comfort ( @spngenrebingo​)  Hunt Gone Wrong ( @spndeanbingo​)

A/N: Here is a lovely comfort fic for your Sunday evening! I hope y’all enjoy this one! It’s one of my favourites I've written in a while. This one was to cheer up my friend Help You Anon! Happy Reading!

 There were three things you were certain of in your life. One, monsters were most definitely real. Two, Bert and Ernie are gay. And three, you only have one person in the world that is solely made for you. Granted believing number one single handedly goes with number three and number two you know because Dean embedded in your head all those years ago. Either way, you knew them all to be true.

 You had been in the backseat of Dean’s ‘67 impala since you were twenty years old. Twenty and terrified of what had just happened right before your eyes. You were in the midst of studying for your midterm in the middle of the night. You had taken up the fourth couch in the library, not wanting to go back to your dorm room with your bitchy roommate still in there. You were about to fill up your cup of coffee when the lights flickered and the library went cold suddenly. You never believed in that sort of thing before. Not until you saw it with your own two eyes. An angry lady standing by the coffee station, blood dripping from her eyes as she stepped closer to you. You screamed and cried out, only to be thrown into the bookshelf. She almost finished you off when someone came rushing to you, slicing through her with what was a rod you used for a fireplace.

 Dean Winchester.

 You had been thrown pretty hard according to Dean. He helped you pack up your stuff before taking you to the hospital to get checked out. You had a minor concussion and needed about eight stitches for your arm that you didn’t even realize. He sat with you, making sure you were okay before he gave you what was now known as the talk.

 After that, you decided to join him on the road. Knowing what you know, you were never going to be able to live the same. You were going to be paranoid and vulnerable and you didn’t want to live your life scared. He offered to train you up and teach you what he knew about everything. You never looked back and most days, you didn’t regret it.

 In that time, Dean became your best friend. He was your mentor, your best friend, your partner in crime. That’s all it ever was. You knew each other like the back of your hand and it came in handy a lot of the time. You knew all his tells better than Sammy, and he knew all of yours. Somewhere along the line, it became the unspoken arrangement between the two of you. Eventually, the two of you came up with a check in system that seemed to work well for the arrangement. Purple means I’m not doing good and really need you right now. Black means sex. Green means I’m okay, I just don’t want to sleep alone tonight. Red means I need a distraction. White being I need to be alone for a little while. And blue, everything is okay.

 Over time, you became less and less about talking and more about taking what you need without asking permission for it. At first, it was a little awkward, but you grew into it quickly. After a rough hunt, you’d share a bed and curl into one another for that safety you needed. It started out that way. Some hunts were worse than others and needed special attention. Cuddling would sometimes turn into sex. Sometimes it was just sex. It was something that worked between you when nothing else did. When nothing else seemed to make it better. You found the comfort in his touch and the feel of his skin on yours. But it never went any further than that. You knew the life you lived. You knew it was short and dangerous. It was no life for love.

 You were on your way back from a hunt in Omaha. One of the hardest ones you had in awhile. Maybe it felt so bad because things had been looking up and this was a major set back. Or maybe it was the fact that things had gone so horribly wrong in the blink of an eye. All you knew was that you felt like a failure. Dean hadn’t said a word since the warehouse and for the first time in a really long time, Sam was pissed at both of you. It made for a really awkward ride home. Granted it was only three hours, but it felt like a lifetime.

 Dean pulled into the bunker’s garage just after midnight. Sam was the first one out, slamming the car door before stalking off into the bunker. Dean only got more angry as soon as the door slammed, following him back into the bunker, hot on his tail. You took a deep breath, kicking your door open to head in. You hated it when they fought. Every argument was the worst, more so when one of them stormed off without coming to terms with everything.

 You tiptoed into the library, both of their voices filling the bunker loud and clear. Hell, even if you were on the other side of the bunker you could hear them going at it. You swallowed hard, knowing full well that you didn’t want to get involved in it.

 “You knew full well what we were getting into and you still thought it was a good idea to go in just the three of us instead of waiting like I said we should have done,” Sam pointed out. His eyes narrowed at Dean as he stood on one side of the table.

 “None of us knew what we were walking into in there and you know it. None of us could have been ready, regardless of how many people we had,” Dean argued. “Besides that, who could have helped us Sam? Last I checked all we had was the three of us. Bobby is dead. Cas is MIA. Garth is a werewolf with a family to take care of. What, you want to call Rowena? Better yet, let’s take Jody and Donna, who have never handled demons before and have them play back up. What the fuck is your problem?”

 “My problem?” he scoffed. “My problem is this stupid macho ‘I can handle anything’ shit attitude you have when something doesn’t seem to be going our way. You give up at the first sign of trouble and jump into bed with her instead of having your head in the game. It’s shit like this that keeps happening and I’m sick and tired of losing, over and over again.”

 “We had one bad hunt,” you breathed out. “One in the last how many months?”

 “Sam, look. We’re all tired -”

 “Save it. I’m going to bed,” he scoffed, taking off out of the library and down the hall to his room. You let out a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. Dean stood there with his hands on the back of the chair, trying to control his breathing. You knew this was going to go one of two ways. The chair was going to go flying into the wall, or he was going to walk over and pour himself a drink.

 “You okay?” he asked you, turning his head to look at you.

 “Yeah,” you nodded, your voice barely there. “I’m just gonna go shower.”

 “Don’t wait up,” he swallowed hard. His words made your heart sink in your chest. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering if you should say something to him. Maybe that you lied when you said you were okay. He turned and headed over to pour himself a drink. There was no use. He had his mind set.

 You slowly wandered down the hall to your room. You knew you didn’t need a shower. You showered in the motel room to get all the blood off of you. If you scrubbed anymore, you’d start to bleed.

 You twisted the knob to your door, stepping inside before shutting it behind you. The room felt incredibly large. So much space for one person. You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes to try and relax. Visions of the hunt came crawling back. The bodies hanging from the rafters in the warehouse. Families. Loved ones. Demons were evil, nasty sons of bitches. Now that Crowley wasn’t King of Hell, they thought they could do whatever they wanted. You were seconds too late and couldn’t exorcise the guy before he killed his vessel in the worst possible way. It was jobs like this that made you hate your job as a hunter. It was things like this that made you want to hang it up and never look back.

 You shook your head, trying to get the searing image out of your head. You opened up your drawer, grabbing a pair of comfortable pyjama pants and an oversized shirt. You could feel the heavy weight settling in your chest. Your hands were starting to shake. You knew you had about ten minutes, fifteen tops before everything came crashing down. Fifteen minutes to get yourself to safety.

 You slipped out of your room as soon as you got changed. Your feet took you quickly to Dean’s room. If he couldn’t be there, then at least the smell of him was. Your hand twisted the knob, kicking the door open as you took another deep breath. The light in his room was already on and much to your surprise, Dean was in his room, standing at the end of his bed in his sweats and his navy blue henley. You wasted no time. You were over at him in an instant, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. Seconds later, his arms slipped around your back, holding you close to him.

 You had no idea how much you needed it until you got it. The smell of his body wash filled your nose, and his warmth coursed through you like a good glass of top shelf whiskey. This was exactly what you needed to begin to process the events that happened. He was what you needed.

 “Colour?” he muttered into the crook of your neck.

 “Purple,” you stuttered, tightening your grip on his shoulders. “You?”

 “Purple,” he whispered. “And a little bit of red.”

 “What do you need me to do?” you asked him.

 “I just want to feel you for a while,” he admitted. “What do you need from me?”

 “Close proximity,” you swallowed hard.

 “Climb into bed and I’ll be right in,” he assured you. You didn’t want to let go of him. You were needy and clingy and you didn’t want the cool air to hit you as soon as you let go. You knew he was coming right back to you. You reluctantly released him, slowly making your way over to his bed. The memory foam mattress did wonders for your back. His sheets were soft and his pillows were comfortable. His bed was the greatest place in the world, and the only thing that made it worth sleeping in was the man next to you. It was just a plain bed without him.

 Dean flicked the light out and shut the door completely. You rested your head on the pillow, waiting for him to slip into the bed with you. You could feel the tightness growing once more. Dean was the only one who seemed to make that go away. That’s why you were so certain that he was the one made for you. He was the one who was there for you, no matter what time or what it was about. He got you like no one else did. He was your one.

 He slipped his arm around your waist tugging you close to him. He positioned himself close to you, his leg fitting between yours, half of his chest pressed to you. His hand traced up to your cheek before he leaned in, giving you a soft peck on the lips that had your heart aching for more. You took a deep breath, settling against him. Your arms wrapped around his back, feeling the warmth of his muscles beneath your palms.

 “You lied to me,” he said with a soft smile.

 “You were mad. I didn’t want to push you after Sam,” you said softly. “Regardless, I still came in here looking for you. If I didn’t find you, I would have come back to the library. Or I would have texted you purple.”

 “It was a losing battle tonight,” he breathed out. “We weren’t going to make a damn difference even if we had gotten there two days before that.”

 “How can you be so sure?” you questioned.

 “Call it a gut feeling. They know how to toy with us,” he started. “They like theatrics. Chances are, that meatsuit was deep fried extra crispy before we got there. He would have been a mess.”

 “Doesn’t take away what happened in there, Dean. It doesn’t take away the fact that I saw those poor lifeless bodies hanging there. All that blood. This job sucks so much sometimes,” you confessed. “And it’s terrifying to know that it could happen to you and Sam and take the two of you away from me. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.”

 “We’re not going anywhere,” he assured you. “Even if Sam’s pissed at us right now.”

 “He’s cranky,” you shrugged. “He might be better in the morning.”

 “Yeah. Sleep usually helps him,” he nodded. “What about you? Are you going to be okay?”

 “I don’t know yet,” you swallowed hard. “I’m so on edge right now. My chest is tight, and I feel shaky. Like at any second, I’m going to have a panic attack and it’s only the start.”

 “So definitely purple for you,” he frowned.

 “I’m trying to be okay,” you mouthed, tears welling in your eyes. You felt a lump forming in your throat as you looked away from his gorgeous green eyes. You knew you would cave and everything would come crashing down.

 “I know you are,” he mumbled. “But it’s okay if you’re not. This life is hard, and it’s rough. We always get the short end of the stick. All we’ve got is each other to get us through the really bad stuff. And there is some really bad stuff.”

 “I hate the bad stuff,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And not being able to save people.”

 “I know, sweetheart,” he said softly, brushing the back of his knuckle over your cheek.

 “Purple,” you sobbed out, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You tightened your arms around him, squeezing him hard, as if he was going to disappear before your eyes. You felt his arms shift, pulling you into him. You felt the tears running down the sides of your face and into your hair. Your nose was filling with snot and your bottom lip quivered. You felt it with your entire body. At the same time, you felt a bit of release. You were safe in his personal space, like he had this bubble around you that no one could penetrate but you. All the warding in the world there to protect the both of you from harm's way.

 “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Let it all out. I’ve got you.” Man, did you let it out. You quaked beneath him as the sobs shot through you. The tears kept on coming, sliding down the sides of your face and into your hair. Dean’s hold never let up. His body was warm and welcoming with every tear that fell. His breathing was even, giving you something to match yours to.

 Eventually your nose got stuffed up and the tears fell less and less. Your breathing began to even out. You nuzzled into Dean’s neck a little more, relishing in the warmth of him so close to you. You never wanted to let go of him. You didn’t want to feel that cold fill the space between you again.

 “Colour?” you whispered.

 “To be determined,” he answered. “How are you holding up now?”

 “Better. Crying helped,” you nodded.

 “It usually does for you,” he half smiled. “I’m proud of you. You’re good at letting go when you need to and asking for help.”

 “So are you, Winchester,” you said, clearing your throat. Your voice hoarse from the tears. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit for how good you are doing. I draw my strength from you on the bad days. The days where I feel like shit, you’re there to pull me out of my funk. You’re the bestest friend a girl could ask for.”

 “I got scared tonight,” he confessed. “When I saw that family and the way he was looking at you. For a split second, I thought he was going to target you and take you away from me. That’s why I charged at him and why I didn’t question what I was doing. It was reckless and stupid, but when it comes to you - I don’t want to go through the pain of losing you knowing I could have done something about it. I won’t.”

 “Then you have to know that I won’t go through it again either, Dean. How many times have I lost you? How many times has something gone wrong to take you away from me?”

 “Too many,” he answered. “But you can get out of this life. Settle down somewhere and do whatever it is you want to do. You have a world of options. I have you and I have Sammy. That’s my life. I won’t lose either of you if I can help it.”

 “See, that’s where you are wrong, Winchester,” you swallowed hard. “I have you and I have Sam. You know the reason why I’m still in this with you. I can’t do this alone. Hunter life or regular life. At least when I’m here with you, I have a family. I need you and I need Sam. End of story.”

 “You’re just saying that because I’ve ruined all other men for you,” he winked.

 “Shut up, loser,” you scoffed playfully. “You got an answer for me?”

 “Green. Just need you to sleep next to me tonight,” he breathed out.

 “Big spoon or little spoon?” you questioned.

 “I’ll be big tonight. You look like you could use some arms around you still,” he smiled. You nodded your head as your eyes flicked up to his gorgeous green orbs. In a moment of confidence, you arched your head up, capturing his lips with yours in a sweet kiss.

 “Night De,” you muttered, turning in his arms. He settled down behind you, wrapping his arm tightly around your middle. He rested his head against yours, making himself comfortable. You placed your hand on his, nuzzling into the pillow.

 “Night Y/N.”

 Your eyes fluttered shut as you found comfort in his arms. A small smile played on your lips at the feel of him pressed against your back. There was no one else in the world you’d rather be with right now than Dean. Not even Sam could replace this man’s spot in your heart.

 “Mmmh, plaid,” you muttered.

 “Plaid?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

 “Multiple colours,” you whispered. “It’s a new one for us. Unless you want to use kaleidoscope instead.”

 “Depends,” he paused. “What does this one mean?”

 “It means, in this fucked up world we live in, there is no one in the universe I’d rather have next to me than you,” you revealed. “All the colours and then some in one. It’s my way of saying that I love you, Dean Winchester.”

 “Well then, plaid it is,” he chuckled. “‘Cause I love you too.”

 “Mhh, good,” you yawned. “Besides, I’m fairly certain you’re my soulmate at this point.”

 “I know you’re mine,” he said, tightening his arms around you. “Made for each other.”

 “And now everytime I steal your shirt, you’ll know I love you,” you giggled.

 “Best arrangement we’ve ever come up with,” he breathed out. “Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

 “Night handsome.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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