god I hate so fucking much the rape trope in rickmorty fan fiction, it doesn’t make any goddamn sense.
rick would never hurt morty like this. he would rather be destroying himself with booze/heavy drugs/whatever, than sexually assault morty. he fucking killed king jellybean, when he learnt what that asshole had done, why in the flying fuck would he sink to that level?
i understand that this type of fanfiction is usually written by thirsty teenagers because, even though they try to make it psychological, it still looks like a wet fantasy. but I really wish there was more in depth exploration of such heavy themes such as sexual abuse, manipulation etc., than just a jerk off material (I cant’t even jerk off to this shit bc it’s so bland and boring).
With S07E06 it’s easy to lose faith in the ship and so many people are reasonably upset but fret not! We still have plenty of points that are still as valid as they were prior to this episode.
Let’s go through them and calm down, alright? (For Jonerys shippers, people are allowed to ship whoever they want. Please don’t take this as an attack to your ship.)
Here are some summarised points just to refresh yourself on why this ship makes so much sense!
1) Sansa being the first Stark to reunite with Jon, forming a bond between the two. Think of all how refreshing it was to see Jon and Sansa smile on screen for the first time in forever, and how crucial it is for developing the plot!
2) The marriage symbolisms in the scenes they share. Sansa is cloaked in(what I assume to be) Jon’s cloak when she first arrives at Castle Black. She then cloaks him in the Stark fur she makes him(and he’s worn it ever since - even on the cliff at Dragonstone). They both have also shared a drink together, which just paints more wedding imagery. Not to mention, Jon has promised to protect her(sounds like something you’d vow to your partner).
3) How their scenes are shot in a particular way that may suggest a foreshadowing of them being endgame. Candle lit rooms, gentle snow falling and panned close ups of anytime Sansa’s grabbed Jon’s hand/arm.
4) Bickering like an old married couple while still empowering each other and Sansa reassuring the Jon that he’s good at ruling thus giving him the confidence he needs and reminding him that he’s a Stark to her. Wow I love a supportive dynamic. Nothing but mutual respect from my two children.
5) How well they work together and how they balance each other out. Jon of course being the military man, and Sansa being more politically savvy. Wow, Westeros is shook at this power couple.
6) The Ned and Cat parallels. I don’t even need to get into this one because there are plenty of sources out there that have pointed this out!
7) Littlefinger’s panned close up of him looking at Jon, then looking at Sansa as if he’s putting two and two together. This is incredibly significant considering the event that led up towards it could be seen as Littlefinger trying to see what would make Jon tick.
8) Angry Kitten Jon i.e. the strange way in which we see him react to different people bringing up Sansa. Choking Littlefinger, glaring and not being interested in discussing her with Tyrion, Sansa being the only reason he chooses to spare Theon. Davos’ close up right after his interaction with Theon. Very suspicious.
9) Them mentioning each other even when they’re miles apart. It’s an odd thing to note that Sansa keeps saying she wishes Jon were with her and that she hopes he comes back soon, meanwhile we also have Jon not being able to escape the mention of Sansa.
10) Jon taking notice of her new silk dress. Remember when he said he’d want to see Ygritte in a silk dress… so he could tear it off of her?
11) The forehead kiss and lingering gaze. They could have reshot this if it wasn’t meant to give off any other vibe that wasn’t perceived as brotherly. 10mill for that last episode, just saying.
12) The deleted scene. In which Jon tells Ghost to stay behind and protect Sansa.
13) Name parallels in both the Stark and Targaryen family tree. There was a Jaeherys Targaryen(some people think this may be Jon’s true name) who married an Alyssane(which is remarkably similar sounding to Alayne - Sansa’s adoptive name while she was in the Vale. But even if it turns out his true name isn’t Jaeherys, there’s still the Jonnel Stark that married a Sansa Stark. Now that’s on the nose.
14) Sansa giving his new life purpose. When we see Jon after he’s resurrected, he was ready to abandon his post as Lord Commander. Sansa walks in just in time, and she gives him a reason to fight for - the reclamation of Winterfell. Jon is truly reborn when he resurfaces from the crowd and we see in him something that’s been missing throughout the season - purpose. Then he goes and knocks the sh*t out of Ramsay.
15) The Prince Aemon/Joffrey bit. Ned had promised her someone brave, gentle and strong like Prince Aemon, noting that the match with Joffrey was a mistake. This happens in Season 1 and in the 1st installation of the ASOIAF books. In the 3rd installation of the books, Jon recalls a time where he and Robb would be training as kids, referring to himself as Prince Aemon the Dragonknight.While in the show in Season 7, we see Jon get insulted at the thought that Sansa might think of him to be like Joffrey - to which she says he’s as far as Joffrey as anyone she’s ever met.
16) Sansa’s hair. This is often overlooked but I remember reading that when Sophie Turner got her role, she asked the producers why she had to dye her hair. They told her that it’s actually important and crucial to the plot in some symbolic way. Let me just point out to you how most if not all the women in Jon’s life that he’s been involved with in some way or another has had red hair. While this seems like merely a coincidence that’s not worth bringing up, it could be tied to the validation he never received while growing up - of Catelyn’s(who had more of an auburn shade), and Sansa who took after her mother in never accepting Jon fully.
17) Janos Slynt. Sansa had wished for a hero to behead Janos Slynt(in the books). Jon ends up beheading Janos Slynt(in the books and the show). This has a romantic connotation since the hero always falls for the princess in the songs.
18) How their arcs almost reflect and mirror each other throughout the story. Both Jon and Sansa had romantic ideas of the world that are debunked by reality. Jon believing the Night’s Watch is a place of honour, and Sansa having her whole reality flipped. (My poor bbs </3)
19) How their arcs are at one point reversed. Sansa finds herself born into a position of power in the beginning, while Jon was a bastard. She then at finds herself being the bastard, while Jon is raised up as Lord Commander. This is good to take note of as they now have a better understanding of each other respectfully.
20) How them getting together would literally give them both what they wanted as children. Sansa’s always wanted her prince(and since Rhaegar annulled his marriage, Jon is a Targaryen Prince), and Jon’s always wanted a family and to live in Winterfell(+ deep down I’m sure he’s always craved the validation he was denied as a child growing up in Winterfell - he had hoped Ned would have the King legitimise him).
21) Poetic justice. How fitting would it be to have a situation that started out from a Targaryen/Stark wedding to end with a Targaryen/Stark wedding(this time done right)? Too perfect.
Those are some of the points I could think of straight off the top of my head, without taking into account the points that stand against D*enerys. I wanted to make sure this post was as positive without having to be perceived as me taking a go at D*ny. But, for the purpose of making this complete, let’s see some points against that ship(you can stop reading at this point if you only want positivity, but I’ll try to be as rational!)
1) The argument that J*nerys together makes the Song of Ice and Fire. This is a questionable point since there could be many interpretations of what’s truly Ice and Fire so I’ve never found this to be persuasive. You could argue that Jon is the Song of Ice and Fire himself, since it’s been revealed that he is both Stark and Targaryen.
2) D*enerys’ story arc serves as a foil to Jon’s. The reason why these characters seem alike is because they seem to mirror their positions throughout the story. However, if you take a closer look - D*ny has risen to power on account of her birthright and dragons, and she has actively sought out her power. Meanwhile, Jon finds himself in a position of power not because he wants it or has a birthright, but because people want him to assume that position(like being elected Lord Commander and then crowned King in the North).
3) The highlighted differences between these characters. In Mereen in Season 5, we see D*enerys sentence a man to death but have Daario Naharis carry out the sentence in front of her people as a deterrent. This has always been interesting to me because she cannot bring herself to look at him as he is being beheaded. It reminds me of the saying that he who passes the sentence should swing the sword. In the same season, we see Jon behead Janos Slynt himself.
4) The direction the show seems to have taken in relation to D*ny’s methods of ruling. Yes, I do agree that you’ve got to be more and more ruthless as you hold more and more power but it’s interesting to me how they’ve decided to shoot her scenes lately. There’s her insisting that she is Queen(Tywin: “Any man who must say “I am the King” is no true King.”). Then we are asked to empathise with the Lannister army for the first time in the series - with Ed Sheeran’s cameo meant to humanise the soldiers, and the Field of Fire 2.0 battle being shot from the Lannister army’s point of view - of devastation when going against a weapon of mass destruction(Drogon). To top it all off, she displays ignorant hypocrisy - saying she wants to break the wheel but only when she’s already on top, deflecting and ignoring any attempts Tyrion makes to talk some sense into her(we’ve seen Tyrion trying to deny that she’s being irrational while with Varys, and mentioning that she’s known to lose her temper), telling the army she’s not there to murder them and then giving them an ultimatum of bending the knee or dying, and burning the Tarlys alive. That last point is interestingly enough never brought up with Jon the same way the maesters don’t inform Samwell - which makes me feel like it’s been left out for now, for a reason. It’ll come back and change Jon’s perspective of her further.
5) Contrasting D*ny’s ruling methods with Sansa’s. While D*enerys’ loot train attack destroyed the food that would have fed the people, in the same episode we see Sansa trying to ensure that her people are fed. It’s there for a reason. For us to be able to extract and juxtaposition these two together and start questioning who would make a better Queen - a ‘foreign invader’ and conquerer who uses her weapons of mass destruction to pave a way for her on the Iron Throne, or the key to the North who has learnt how to play the Game of Thrones from arguably a few of the best players(Cersei, Margaery, and Littlefinger).
6) Cersei’s Prophecy of the Younger, more beautiful Queen. People seem to overlook this when it’s actually quite indicative of endgame. People are also quick to assume that D*ny is the Younger Queen that would talk all that [Cersei] holds dear. But how could she be? D*enerys had nothing to do with the deaths of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. Sansa did. Although unknowingly. Sansa was the one who informed Olenna Tyrell of how much of a monster Joffrey was - this set the chain of events that led to all three of Cersei’s children’s deaths. While Margaery could be perceived as the Younger Queen as well - she had no clue of Olenna’s involvement, and furthermore - Cersei still has Jaime while Margaery has already been reduced to ashes. So, if Jaime were to sometime in the future join forces under Sansa, she would fulfil the prophecy. I highly doubt that Jaime would be keen on joining D*enerys after what he’s seen her do with fire - I’m sure he was getting war flashbacks, poor guy.
**I’d like to mention and give fair warning that past this point, I’ve hinted at some things that happen in E06 so if you want to be absolutely spoiler free, please stop yourself from reading further. Or, you could go ahead and read only the bolded first line of each point!**
7) A marriage between D*enerys and Jon serves no greater purpose.We are reminded that D*ny is barren(please don’t make it seem like I’m picking at this being her fault and hating her for it, I’m trying to be rational), she cannot give Jon an heir(children he’s always wanted though I don’t doubt that if he truly loves someone he wouldn’t mind giving that dream up, so don’t see this as me trying to pit two women against each other for the sole reason of one not being able to have children). So the Targaryen lineage would truly die with D*enerys if this marriage is realised. Furthermore, the North will not accept a Southern ruler, and will always follow the Stark name. If Jon bends the knee, not only will he be giving up what his family fought for, but he would be betraying the wants of his people. If it is revealed that he is Targaryen and it’s made public knowledge, the marriage that makes the most sense to maintain peace is if he marries Sansa - a Stark, since Jon would be abdicating his position as King in the North by bending the knee and Sansa would still be Lady of Winterfell as she has the Stark name. On the topic of children though, for some reason in E06 we keep getting hints of possibly foreshadowings of Jon having his own children - specifically when Jorah doesn’t accept Longclaw, saying it would serve [Jon]’s children well - and then the scene cuts to Sansa and Arya.
8) Jon possibly playing D*enerys is not completely OOC. Take into account what he did with Ygritte, then take into account the number of reminders he’s had this season alone. Sansa reminds him to be smarter than Robb and Ned, and one of the other Northern Lords reminds him that Robb rode South once, married a foreigner and lost the North. What’s the one thing Kit Harrington says about Jon this season? That he’s beginning to listen to Sansa. You may argue that it’s character assassination to have Jon, who’s so pure, resort to manipulation but he could be putting his family and duty first - he needs to do what he can to secure her alliance. In fact I think it’s more insulting to his character if we were to assume that he would deliberately give up the North without first consulting his people, let alone Sansa. It’s way past time Jon plays a little bit of the game, it does his character justice to develop and learn from past mistakes at least that much. Of course, there’s also guilt following the events of E06 during the wight hunt. Let’s not forget D*ny’s prophecy that states that she will be betrayed thrice - once for blood, once for gold and once for love(this last one has yet to happen).
9) The Odysseus/Penelope/Calypso parallel. I saw this going around at some point and it’s been quite popular ever since! Unfortunately I’m not too sure who the original source is, but please feel free to tag them below! They made a link between the three greek characters with Jon, Sansa and D*ny respectfully. Calypso had detained Odysseus on her island for some time, while Penelope stayed behind and ruled on behalf of him in his absence. Odysseus and Calypso end up sleeping together but in the end, he comes back to his Penelope. It’s not to say that I like the idea of Sansa being ‘second’, but I’m choosing to interpret this in a way that guarantees Jon coming back to Sansa despite the boatbang.
That concludes this little list/semi-meta(?) I’ve never taken a go at these, in fact I’m pretty sure this is my second time making my own textpost. Again, the point of this was not to put one character against the other just so we can be satisfied with our ship. You are allowed to ship whoever you want to! I simply felt the need to bring these points up again because the night is dark and full of red-herrings.
Please try to leave this post as hate-free as possible. If it appears on the wrong tag, I apologise. But if you were secure with your ship then you wouldn’t feel the need to come at me. Although if you do still feel the need to defend a certain character, no one’s stopping you - just be respectful! x
Last but not least… can we just… appreciate these two. (I saw this gif online but I’m not sure where, apologies if it’s yours - all credit to you and please don’t hesitate to let me know.)
For the anon who requested the bed-sharing trope. It kind of turned out peculiar.
“make it look pretty, but train it to kill”
The timer sharply ran at ten o’clock, and Nesta plucked the micro-device out of her ear, tossing it onto the soiled Earth. Her heels crushed the piece of tech, and soon her legs stalked forward, hands holding the edges of her ruby gown swishing around her. Once her high-stiletto shoes reached the marbled tiles, she dropped the silky fabric, a slight breeze in the crisp night kissing her skin.
Rounding the corner of the castle grounds, her eyes darted over the faceless security patrols who spared her a passing glance, some daring glance over the high slit of the dress on her right leg. She merely smiled prettily, running a tongue over her lower lip, painted with blood-red lipstick. Her fingers dipped into the curve of her breasts, and she smirked at the dazed and glazed looks cresting over the younger guards marching past her. Snapping the golden embroided invitation out of her bra, she winked at the flustered males, and continued her walk. Fanning the invitation against her face, she studied the towering columns and dark, tinted windows peeking from the upper walls.
Flipping her brown strands gleaming with golden flares, Nesta Archeron stalked to the entrance, listening to the faint whispers of orchestra’s melody and courtesan’s small talks.
She considered it a shame midnight would end with cacophonies and rumors. Pressing the papyrus into the butler’s white gloved hands, she stared down the escort who stepped from the long line of males and held out his elbow to user her up the gilded stairs. The escort swallowed and she dismissed him with a sparse look, striding up and into the gleaming castle. Inside, drafts of warm currents pierced her flesh, the beating sounds of blended notes spiraling throughout the domed room with glass chandeliers sparkling from several quadrants. Low murmurs arose as she stalked through the entrance, a bland smile curled onto her face. When an arm reached out, slightly bent, Nesta gladly took it, and stepped into the lines of circles to dance. Faces turned away from her, the attention of wave’s receding lapping into the back of the mind, as she disappeared from the main sight, and the next guest walked in.
“You didn’t walk with an escort,” the male voice murmured. “Meaning your date’s not here or you want to be scooped up by some other higher ranked—more than a courtesan in the royal courts could offer.”
Nesta offered him a sharp smile, one cultivated from dancing with the viper and drowning in poisons. Her eyes turned towards the warm body offering pouring heat, and blinked at the hazel eyes intently studying her under those dark brows that framed his rough, unshaven face. Wide shoulders corded with thick muscles roped around to his arms, and the black coat hung unbuttoned across his buttoned shirt.
He dipped her low, and leaned back as his eyes skimmed over her exposed collarbone.
“If it’s the first, I frankly don’t believe you’d be stood up,” he leaned down to caress a breathe against her collarbone. “But you already look powerful enough to not need someone else. So what is it?”
They arched back up, and resumed their small circles of steps and little twirls.
A third option, she silently mused, allowing the music to bounce around them, their bodies swaying together in synchrony. Noting the guards slipping behind the curtains and hugging the shadows along the walls, she cocked her head. A distraction fit perfectly as all the royals would be dining and dancing in the other secluded areas, choosing to grace the other invitees later on in the night.
“Want to go somewhere else?” she murmured, weaving her around his chest, each step they took too precise and full of the tensions lurking beneath the luxuries exteriors.
A flash of a grin. “Anything to loosen you up, sweetheart.” A hand strayed near the small of her back, guiding her to one of the dimly lit hallways. Goosebumps flew over her skin as she felt focus slipping from her.
A hush fell over the crowd, the faint tinkling of the glorious music halting. From the opposite direction of the entrance, two goldened and darkened double doors had flung open, one shadow of a figure descending the curve of slanted stairs.
A crown of pure obsidian—no fringe of gold or silver or diamonds or rubies. Not when the King’s own phantom absorbed all darkness and riches. Not when the King’s soldiers had pillaged her own village, one lower-ranked cornering her into the barn the night her house had been set afire. Not when she’d been separated from her own sisters, and then sought her revenge for seven years.
A cold smile settled on that square face—ancient and heavy, full of curses and endurance, eliciting pulses of hatred and demise to pound through her veins and echo within the crevices of her own heart chamber.
Every shape and figure bent, bowing to the King. Nesta let out a low hiss, clenching her teeth.
The music began, sharper and faster, and clean cut blade caressing her ear.
“You still want to get out of here?” the male muttered, not bothering to mask boredom.
“I’m going to greet the King of Hybern,” Nesta said, and started to detach herself from the male’s arms.
A hand wrapped around her wrist. “This is your first time attending this type of event, isn’t it?”
“What?” she snapped.
“Talk to the King and have your head disconnected from the rest of your body.” Those hazel eyes stared down at her, contemplating more than she liked.
She arched a brow, and debated whether slipping out her opinion. She refrained.
“No one’s allowed to infect his presence,” the male recites. “Unworthy to near his space, and worthy to watch from afar.”
That complicated things for a bit. Her information briefing hadn’t been exactly accurate, it seemed.
“But if you want to catch his attention, I suggest you tug down that dress.”
Nesta shot the male a sharp glance. “Excuse me?”
A shrug. “These things get quite dull. I wouldn’t mind a little blood spilled.”
She matched his grin, and they sashayed towards the fringes of the east hall. Rolling her shoulders, she tilted her head, and watched the dark robed King stalk through the corridor, the backs of guards swallowing up his form.
She pressed her hands against the male’s chest, and said a bit loudly, “Let’s find some privacy.” Tucking her face in the crook of the male’s neck, she allowed him to guide her into the darkness and away from the glamor of the middle of the ball.
“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispered, stroking her hair. Nesta noticed the patrols closing in towards them, most likely about to command them to return back into the ballroom. Nesta wrapped her leg with the open slit around the other male’s, and kissed him fully on the lips.
A cry of protest rumbled from the male’s throat, but he quickly absorbed her lips, wrapping her around him, one hand grounding around her hips, the other pressing against the small of her back. A low growl thundered from the base of his throat as they broke apart for air, a crazed and wild look flailing within those hazel eyes, and those orbs raked across her form as if seeing her for the first time.
He leaned down and slammed her against the wall, the shadows of metal and steel streaming away from them. Nesta watched a guard retreat from them, shaking his head, and resumed soaking in the warmth of the stranger of a male. He held her tightly, emanating warmth beyond her once dreams, and devoured her. She groaned as he slowly nipped his way down, exposing the pale column of her throat. A thumb stroked lower from her waist and fingered the fabric of her gown. Her finger lashed out and she tilted his head back up, capturing his mouth within hers, and they waged their own war between teeth and tongue, soiled in the seconds of heat and devourment. His own fingers travelled up over the curve of her shoulders and down, leaving lingering sensations of desire and need erupting within every pore.
A loud crackling sound of metal grinding had Nesta peeling away from the male and mentally scolding herself. She’d gotten too cooped up in the moment, and allowed herself to become too exposed. By the cold, dark eyes of the one wearing the blackened and solid crown, the King of Hybern had spotted another prey, those fathomless eyes staring at her tousled state.
He jerked his chin at the male embracing her, dark eyes flickering. “Out,” he droned.
The hazel eyed male smoothed his hands down her back and tightened his hands on the small of her back, grasping the folds of the back of her gown. A second later, he abruptly released her and stalked into the light where the tinkering of music sounded.
Coldness flooded her once again, an emptiness settling within her core.
The King stalked towards her, and Nesta flattened her back against the wall. She knew that predatory look, the one who forged her into the pillar of ice and steel.
Her hand itched down, as if covering her slit in the dress.
“You dare disrupt my halls,” the King mused. “To lose yourself in feeling.”
Dark eyes, dark heart.
“I wonder what it would be like for a damsel to lose all sense of feelings,” the King pondered.
Nesta spotted the syringe, and danced around the first stroke.
Cold eyes, cold heart.
“You cannot escape,” the King warned, and reached out a hand, which Nesta realized was dripping with blood. “The end of this hallways lies for my…experiments. You’d do your country an honor to join them.”
Nesta knew, knew of the experiments, of the agony, of the horror, of those who walked out there, and were never the same.
Not when Tomas, her first lover of six years, had volunteered service to the King, and returned with dark eyes, a dark heart, cold eyes, and a cold heart.
Nesta unsheathed a dagger from her knife strap, and allowed the reflection of the blade to arc within the darkness.
A weapon to match that inked soul.
A sick smile. “I see,” the King said slowly, and tossed the syringe to the side, the sound clattering.
He lunged towards her, and grabbed her wrist so harshly the knife dropped. He tossed her against the wall, her head colliding with the hard surface. He reached down and ran a finger against the blade.
The strength the King possessed—but the deed had been done.
Nesta smiled, and watched the King prick his finger.
Dark to flame, shadow to madness, lunacy to bone.
Nesta stalked to the syringe and tucked into into her thigh strap securely. Then she strode the King of Hybern, who stared at the domed ceiling with criss crossing beams with an empty look. That ancient face now glazed over, the pulse at his neck fading.
Nesta leaned in. “Not so fun to be experimented on, is it now?” she whispered. “Took me six years to concoct.”
Blood gurgled from the King’s lips, the strangled sound lighting her veins.
“I know you’re going to die. Slowly. But I have to leave now. So,” she twirled the hilt of the dagger around her fingers, her red nails flashing in front of the King, “I’m going to have to speed up the process.”
Nesta Archeron drove the blade. Not through the heart where layers of armor awaited, but across.
She’d practiced this move too many times for too many years.
In utter patience into utter completion, where the head flew across the spine and body and rolled across the ground, coming to a halt. The crown slithered off the black hair and crashed against stone, the sound of the rim of the onyx and ink symbol echoing through the corridor.
The King’s body crumbled at her feet.
Dark eyes lolled up and dark heart unbeating. Cold eyes ripped from this world and dark heart ceased. Picture perfect.
Footsteps neared, and Nesta braced herself.
She stared at the hazel-eyed man, who merely looked at her, and then at the body—and the head.
“Cauldron boil me,” he managed to gasp out, and crossed his arms.
Nesta waited, finding herself oddly rooted to the ground.
“What the hell?” the man snarled, and Nesta angled the knife carefully under her arm and wrist. “You killed my kill, with less blood. Damn my ego and mission.”
She blinked, and stared at the large sword in his hand.
Too obvious, yet obviously typically male.
She silently scrutinized the male in front of her, hearing the distant and clunky patter of footsteps. Slipping the knife into his free hand and damning the aghast look on his chiseled face, Nesta tossed herself against the wall, mustering one of the facades she knew too well.
“Hands up!” Large seas of coats and suits swam through one end of the hall, swords, metal, and steel pointed towards them.
A tear leaked down her face, and Nesta reminded herself to not wear waterproof mascara again. By the looks on the castle’s guard’s face, she’d successfully portrayed herself as the damsel in distress.
“He—” she hiccuped, and stared at the body and head, waving her arms frantically. “He killed the King of Hybern!”
Nesta booked it, slipping out and pushing past the guards, slicing those limbs who reached out to ensnare her. It was another maddening dance, one learned from monstrosity, and living as a corpse within.
She hurried away, away from the male and from the dead and from the memories.
Her eyes turned away from the castle as she stalked away and leaped out the entrance, the stares of many driving her away. Hitting the rendezvous point, she didn’t cast a look back at the towering, tall, and dark castle. She slipped off her shoes and unhooked the rope wrapped around the stern of a slim boat, and pushed the vessel into the river, quickly jumping in. Balancing the boat, she picked up the paddle and rowed, ignoring the beat of the drums of the peals of alarms.
She didn’t bother to catch her breathe her arms continued to move in synchrony, once to a longing beat of music and desire. The cold air kissed her skin, whispering little slivers of words and gentle caresses.
Nesta stared at the moon as she quickly rowed, hours seeming to pass by as she passed by, listening to the chirping of crickets and unidentified howls. In the wilderness, she coexisted.
The vessel hit the edge of the river, and she dragged it under the cover of mosses and overgrown leaves. Trudging up the bank, Nesta listed the edges of her gown, and slipped back on her heels.
She caught the light from the distance, and followed it, ignoring the branches reaching out with ghostly hands to chain her back. Nesta picked apart the sharp tendrils and trudged forward.
A hand wrapped around her elbow, and she jerked back to no avail, only to have her entire body encased by another towering one.
Her body flared in response to the other male’s heat.
She stopped squirming and hissed lowly.
“Kill the King,” the voice snarled. “And frame me? Whose damned side are you on?”
She shrugged as well as she could. “Saw the opportunity and took it.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She twirled around, not before she shot him her infamous viper’s grin, her knee flashing out.
Through the darkness, the moon shining down faint rays of shine, Nesta could recognized the hazel-eyed male.
“How’d you escape?” she bit out.
A roll of eyes—that much she could decipher. A closer look, and she saw flecks of blood coating his hands.
She walked forward, her back to him.
Nesta didn’t understand the underlying feelings running undercurrent through her, her heart vying to trust him, her mind accepting him.
She continued her trek forward.
Those bloodied hands found the small of her back.
“You wondered about the contact who gave you the false invitation?” the male murmured. “That was me. My dealings include women desiring to meet a courtesan or indulge in royalty for one night. Their fantasies fill my pockets with gold.”
The orange glow grew brighter, and Nesta picked up her pace, the male behind her easily matching her strides.
“I didn’t pay your dealer one trove of gold to merely worm into a man,” she noted.
A pause. “No. I plan on returning the trunk to you.”
Nesta faltered a step, and the male crashed into her. His arms instantly wrapped around her, and she sucked in a breath.
“Because you killed the man that killed my parents,” he murmured against her ear. “For having more balls than I.”
Nesta could make out the lanterns of the inn, and jerked her head to it.
The male released her and gave her a nod.
They stalked through the clearing, and Cassian opened the doors.
The receptionist gave them wary looks, observing the muddied fringes of Nesta’s gown and the red painting the other male’s black tux.
“A single room,” said Nesta.
“A single room for me as well.” Cassian winked at the receptionist, while Nesta surveyed the dimly lit entrance, too small for a large command of troops to search through. The back alleys had potholes to impeded vehicles, while the insides did have the array of tables and chairs to use as shields and weapons if utilized correctly.
The receptionist coughed. “I only have one spare room available. You’ll have to share.”
Nesta glared at the male next to her. He merely held up his palms and leaned across the front, winking at the receptionist. “Are you sure?” he said lowly.
The other woman flushed. “I’m sure.”
Nesta held out her hand. “I asked first. Give me the key.”
Cassian slapped a bloodied hand over her palm. “No way. You owe me.” His eyes bored into her.
The receptionist coughed, and Nesta reached out with her other hand for the key.
Cassian’s other hand went into his suit and came out with a thick wad of bills. “One night, one room. Give me the key.”
The traitorous female handed him the key, and Nesta’s jaw hardened. She attempted to disentangle her hand from the male, but he gripped her tightly.
The receptionist took out a pen, and scratched something down. “Name?” she asked.
The male looked at Nesta, full of surety. “Cassian,” he drawled out, and stroked a thumb down the back of her hand.
The receptionist cleared her throat, and eyed both of them. “The room may be single, but has a King’s bed.”
Cassian dragged her deeper into the inn, a cocky grin etched onto his face. No doubt the fate had worked in his odds.
“Release me,” Nesta snapped, but her heart snapped back the opposite. Cauldron, what was happening to her?
The male released her hand, but wrapped an arm around her waist. “You think I’d let you sleep in the wild?” he asked, and guided her up the first step of stairs. “We’re sharing the bed.”
“No,” she simply said.
“Oh really?” he arched a brow. “But who paid for the room?”
Nesta said nothing, and stalked down the hallway until he reached her, those hazel-eyes dancing over her.
“You owe me,” he repeated. “You killed the man I wanted to kill.”
“The King was not a man,” she sneered. “A monster beyond humanity.”
The male inserted the key through the last door, and pushed it open. He beckoned her in, and she pushed past him.
“I don’t see why you’re full of ire,” Nesta continued. “When you were the one who allowed the King to look at me.”
“Because I decided to have you use your feminine wiles so I could get close to him. You think I expected you to be the King’s assassin?”
“Sad you didn’t claim the title?”
Cassian leaned forward, his nose pressed against her forehead. “I’m sad that you’re going to make me sleep on the floor, Nesta Archeron.”
Her eyes flashed. “How do you know my name?”
That cocky grin. “I do make it my business to know those who request false papers, sweetheart.”
She crossed her arms and kicked off her heels. “How’d you escape?”
Cassian unabashedly started to undress himself, shrugging off his coat. “While I didn’t have a damned boat, I did have legs that walked at the same snail pace you were rowing.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Excuse me?”
Cassian leaned down and took of his shoes, displaying the soles, beaten and reinforced with secondary material. “Once I killed the guards, I followed the trail of red, and followed the sounds of the rowing through the river.”
The male flicked the buttons of his shirt, and displayed the toned and muscular, thick skin underneath. Nesta felt her body warm up, and she took a step back when he stalked towards her.
A hand yanked the frills of her dress up, wielding the torn scraps of fabric. “The layers of your gown were my breadcrumbs.”
Nesta cursed. This was too sloppy.
Cassian seemed to read her mind, and shook his head. “Looks like you’re going to have to destroy that dress, sweetheart.”
Before Nesta could open her mouth, Cassian ripped her dress off of her.
Nesta’s knee lunged up again, but he caught her kneecap. “A cheap shot.” His hands released her knee, and he grinned. She steadied herself, and grabbed a pillow and blanket, tossing them on the floor. Within the movements, she stuffed her thigh strap within the pillow covers.
She wouldn’t risk more mistakes tonight.
“What are you doing?” Cassian growled.
Nesta stripped the remains of her gown, and yanked the complimentary bathrobe, hanging over the single chair, over her shoulders. “Sleeping on the floor.”
She laid on the floor, ignoring the cramps shooting through her back from the paddling, and wrapped herself within the blanket.
Seconds later, her body was lifted within her cocoon of warmth, and tossed onto the bed. The pillow slammed into her face a beat later. Snarling, Nesta started to disentangle herself from the blanket, but a body hovered over her.
“I will not force anything on you, if you are worried about that,” Cassian snarled equally back. “You are meaner than you demons, Nesta.”
Her name sounded seemed to be filled with more life, rolling off his tongue.
“You don’t know me,” she hissed. “Who I am, what I’ve done, or what I will do.”
The body rolled off of her, and daftly whacked her with a pillow.
She arched off the bed and crossed her arms.
The male laid across the bed, his chest decorated with scars. His eyes locked on hers. The pillow rested within his fingers again, and when he moved to whack it again, Nesta pounced, and landed on top of him.
Cassian stilled. And then slowly reached out to move a piece of hair that had fallen across her face. “Who says I can’t try to learn?” His breath fanned across her face. “I want to know the woman who can dance like hell and put a royal in hell.”
She laid a hand across his chest, and traced some of the scars, noting the rise and fall of his chest.
“I don’t think—”
The pillow hit her squarely across the jaw.
“I’m trying to knock some sense into you.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating from his chest, deep and rich, and full of life. “Don’t think,” he whispered, and dropped the pillow. “Feel.”
Nesta looked into those hazel-eyes and damned her brain.
She leaned down and kissed him fully, and surely, staring into those warm eyes and warm heart that opened for her, and felt her veins spark with the sensation of desire, shivering into the heat and security in the single room with a King’s bed.
Okay, this was another childhood love of mine, so I had a lot of fun with this idea!
Alya had every reason to believe she’d lose the instant she stepped into the gym. Waterfalls lined the walls, and an enormous Gyarados fountain filled the middle of the room, obscuring all but the trainers she’d have to battle before taking on the leader.
She swore under her breath. So much for using the bulk of her team. She might have to rely on one or two and let the rest sit this one out. Thankfully, Marinette had been sweet enough to share a batch of potions with her last time they met up, so if she was lucky, Alya stood a chance.
After a few battles that hit her harder than she had hoped, Alya finally reached the leader.
“Hey, good job. Looks like you made it.” Interestingly enough, he looked about her age. Not only that, she could swear his bright orange headphones were familiar.
“Yeah, I did.” She stepped up, hands on her hips. “I’m ready to challenge you.”
He raised a brow. “You don’t want to heal up first?”
She frowned, scrutinizing his expression to try and figure out why he seemed so familiar. “No, I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He smiled. “If you’re sure.” He tossed out a Pokeball, calling out his Lapras. “You don’t get extra credit for being stubborn, though.”
She snorted. “I don’t need extra credit to beat you.” She summoned her Pidgeotto. “Let’s do this.”
yall i’m playing ninja storm 4 and I’m at the part where Naruto is breaking down because Obito is sucking peoples life juice out and Sasuke gets in front of Naruto and says, “You done yet?” and Naruto gets a flashback of the Valley and he’s like ‘No he’s trying to go off on his own again I won’t ever let him do that again.’ and bitch its so fucking oh my god the amount of love Naruto has for this boy is making me teeth clench like I cannot do this
“Have you heard from Shawn lately?” She asks, blurting out the question.
“Um, yeah. Spoke to him before lunch.” She says looking down at her phone.
“Okay.” Y/n says, starting to become a little angry.
“What going on?” Aaliyah asks.
“Nothing.” Y/n says becoming defensive.
“Okay.” Aaliyah says backing off, obviously she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“I have to go.”
“Oh okay?” Aaliyah says standing.
“Sorry.” Y/n says walking off, going straight to her car.
She gets in and closes the door, checking her phone for a message from him. But their nothing, been nothing for almost four days now. She clicks on his contact and calls him.
Hey this is Shawn, leave a message.
“You need to call me back, we need to talk.” Is all she says, hanging up cursing at her phone. She drives home, fuming.
She stomps up the stairs to her apartment, slamming the door, throwing her bag on the couch.
She’s so confused, what was happening.
Her phone is going off and she angrily picks it up, glaring at his name as it flashes on her screen.
“Yeah.” She answers, taking deep breaths.
“Hey, are you okay? I got a message from Liyah saying you were acting a bit strange at lunch.”
“What’s going on?” She asks cutting him off.
“Don’t ‘what’ me Shawn, I haven’t spoken to you in days. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“Whoa.” He says, phone shifting on his side.
“Yeah I’m mad Shawn, I haven’t heard from you in days, there are these rumors going around about you and some Haley chick. So tell me, what is going on.”
“Okay, I can. I just have to tell you something but you can’t get mad.”
“Like hell I can’t get mad, I will get mad if I want to.”
“Okay. Just promise me, that we’ll still be okay.”
“Just tell me what the fuck is happening.”
“They want me to do a promo stunt. Be seen out with her, get her name out there. Spark her fame up a bit.”
“What does that mean Shawn?”
“They want me to ‘date’ her, like pretend to date her in public.”
“Yeah, just for a little while, but it’s not real.”
“Not real, bullshit.” She seethes, becoming hot, super pissed off.
“What? A few dates, hand holding. That’s what you’ll promise me, it won’t go past that but then it will be a kiss on the cheek then a small peck to full blown make out sessions.”
“No, it won’t be like that.”
“Shawn.” She says sighing.
“If you don’t want to be with me anymore.” She pauses, his breath hitching. “I need you to just fucking say it, have to the balls to tell me.”
“I want to be with you.” He says frantically.
“Then fucking act like it.” She yells hanging up.
She leans against the counter, pushing her hair back. How could he not think that their was anything wrong with this. He would be dating a different girl. He promised that this wouldn’t happen. This is what she was worried about when she got together with him.
He’s calling, but she needs a second to breathe and calm down. She’ll say something she’ll regret if she answers now.
She walks out of the room, going to take a shower so she can organize her thoughts.
He’s still calling, has been all night. She’s calmed herself and is ready to talk to him. She answers when he calls for the 52nd time.
“Hey.” She says softly.
“Christ, thank god you answered.” He sighs.
“I want to be with you, I am with you.”
“Hear me out okay?”
“This is what I was worried about. When we got together and I said I was worried your job would interfere, this is what I meant. I can’t, can’t sit here and watch you and some other girl be that way. I can’t watch some other girl love all over you knowing that I can only do that in private. How is it fair that she gets to do that when she’s not even you’re girlfriend? How is that fair to me Shawn?”
“It’s not, you’re right.” He says calmly. “I don’t want to do this, I haven’t even gone to the meeting yet, it was pitched a few days ago but I haven’t been able to say anything yet. I know about the rumors but they aren’t true. I want you to know that, I haven’t done anything with her.”
“I trust that. I trust you.”
“But this is like a contract or something, I know it’s not fair. I know that, I hate it too. But it’s my job.” He says, almost like he was shrugging.
“Wow.” She says sitting on the couch. “I get it, I get it. It’s your job, but I’m your girlfriend. At least I thought so.”
“You are.” He interrupts.
“Well then this shouldn’t even be a thought Shawn. I don’t like it, and I don’t want you to do it. I don’t ask for much, I don’t complain about much but I won’t be apart of this.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means.” She swallows the tears. “That if you do this, then we’re done.”
“I can’t do it Shawn, it’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to you. I won’t hold you back.”
“You aren’t holding me back.”
“But I am, I hate to make you choose between me and your job. This is a person I never thought I would be, but I can’t do it Shawn.”
“Wait hold on.” He says, it almost sounds like he’s crying.
“Why does this sound like goodbye?”
“Because it might be.”
“No, what do I have to do for it not to be.”
“Fight Shawn, fight for me.” Is all she says before hanging up. The second the call ends the tears are falling for the both of them.
The thought of losing Shawn is scary. She’s thought of a future with him, he is her future. But not if he acts like this, she can’t handle watching him be with another girl.
The thought of losing Y/n is making Shawn feel sick. He can’t even picture his life without her. Everything he does is for her, he just wants to make her proud. He can’t handle living his life without her. So if she wants him to fight, then he’ll beat the shit out of whoever he needs to.
She’s been crying since she woke up, skipping class because she couldn’t stop.
“No, I haven’t heard from him and it scares me that that was goodbye.”
“It wasn’t goodbye, he’ll call.”
“I don’t know anymore, I’m losing faith.”
She’s on the phone with her best friend.
“Don’t lose faith.” A deep voice says from behind her. She jumps and turns around, meeting a sad Shawn. He’s wearing a hat, he’s got his green jacket on and his grey sweats.
His eyes are puffy and his breathing is erratic.
“Shawn?” She asks, shocked that he was standing in front of her.
“Hi.” He croaks.
“I have to go, I’ll call you later.” She says into the phone, hanging up.
“Don’t lose faith.” He repeats.
“What are you doing here?”
“Fighting.” He says walking closer to her.
“Fighting?” She asks softly.
“I won’t do it.” He says shaking his head. “Not if it means losing you. It’s not worth it.”
“Shawn.” She sighs.
“No, this is me fighting. It’s not worth losing you. To gain a few followers and get my name in a few more tabloids, not worth losing the love of my life. No way.” He says wiping his eyes.
“Are you crying?” She asks stepping up to him.
“Are you judging me right now?” He asks, pulling back.
“No, I’ve never seen you cry before.” She says wiping his tears. “I don’t like it.” She says looking into his eyes.
“I don’t like getting a call from my girlfriend, who’s upset, telling me that. Do you know how scared I’ve been. I’ve been freaking out, called an immediate meeting and said no. Actually I said ‘No fucking way.’”
“I also told them that if they wanted to keep me as an artist, with my new album about to drop, that they would be okay with me having a girlfriend, my girlfriend.”
“We can go public if you want. To shut all these rumors up, if you want. You have control.”
“Wait, they actually said that we could go public.”
“Well actually they said that I was too precious of a client to lose so they said I could what I wanted. I want to do this if you want to do this.”
“Yeah, this is me fighting for you.”
“I love you.”
“Yeah?” He asks, stepping forward.
“I love you too.” He says wrapping his arms around, lifting her off her feet as he hugs her. “Oh my god, you don’t know how good it feels to have you in my arms right now.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“I thought you were leaving me.”
“I thought you were going to leave me.”
“I could never leave you.”
“Please don’t, I haven’t slept for days.”
“Days?” He asks looking at her.
“You hadn’t answered.”
“I know I’m sorry, they took my phone while I was recording.” He says sighing against her.
“They couldn’t have told me?” She asks looking up at her. His eye brows furrow.
“They didn’t tell you?”
“No, I thought you were avoiding me. That’s why I was so angry when we talked.”
“No, I told them to tell you. They said they did.”
“Well they didn’t.”
“Well we’ll be having another meeting.”
“No Shawn, you don’t have to.”
“Yes I do, that is bullshit to tell me one thing and do the opposite. Not okay, especially when it has something to do with you.”
“No it’s not. I almost lost you, I”
“But you didn’t.” She says taking hold of his face. “I’m sorry for making you chose between me and your work. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry. But you fixed it, said no and now we can be together publicly. Don’t push it.”
“I’m at least telling Andrew.”
“So you wanna post something?” He grins looking at her.
“But on your page, then it will be seen.”
“We can post something on yours too.”
“You get yours ready and I’ll get mine and then we’ll post at the same time yeah?”
“Okay.” He says fishing his phone out of his pocket.
They both scroll through pictures, typing up comments. They switch phones and read the others comment. Grinning they both click post at the same time.
@ shawnmendes: She’s the best snuggle buddy I could ask for, 6 months baby. Love you more every day! @ y/tag/n
@ y/tag/n : He makes the late night adventures more adventurous. #he’s the life of my party.
That was it, it was posted and the comments were blowing up fast. It was about time they said it out to the public, and she couldn’t be more happier that he fought to keep her. That he did what he could and much more, finally being able to talk about her.
can we all just take a moment to appreciate what lucas friar said to riley matthews
“my favorite thing in this world is when you talk to me.”
his absolute FAVORITE THING, on this large, gigantic planet, is just talking to riley herself. out of the many many things on this planet, like visiting texas or spending time with zay or seeing his family or eating his favorite food or doing his favorite hobby, they didn’t even come close to riley. like, he bypassed all of that. the things that could easily be his favorite but aren’t. his favorite thing in the world is this girl, who is a complete ray of sunshine in his eyes. his absolute favorite thing in this world is when riley matthews talks to him. just let that sink in. that shows just how much their talk in the library meant to him, he carried that with him and didn’t let it go. his favorite thing on this planet is when he talks to her… I’m going to go cry now
“killing stalking isn’t meant to romanticize abuse; it’s just a psychological horror!!” then why is it’s main genre BL and why is it grouped with other BL comics on the very site it’s published on?????? holy fuck
Αρχίζω να πιστεύω ότι πολλοί σε αυτόν τον κόσμο μπερδεύουν την αγάπη με κάτι προσωρινό. Όταν πήρα το θάρρος να πω πρώτη φορά Σ'αγαπάω σε κάποιον πήρα όλη την ευθύνη της φράσης αυτής. Και παρόλο που το είπε και εκείνος μετά από κάποιες μέρες ήξερα πως δεν είχε πάρει την ίδια ευθύνη με μένα. Επέλεξα να το αγνοήσω όντας ερωτευμένη. Νόμιζα πως ήμουν ευτυχισμένη. Κατέληξα, και είμαι περήφανη γι’ αυτό, να βάζω τα δυνατά μου να σταθώ στο ύψος των συναισθημάτων μου ενώ εκείνος έφευγε. Σχεδόν από το πουθενά μετά από ένα πολύ μικρό διάστημα ήρθε εκείνος στην ζωή μου και έκανε τα πάντα να μοιάζουν καινούργια. Άρχισε η ευτυχία να σημαίνει κάτι για εμένα. Είχα πια καταλάβει πολύ καλά πως ότι είχα ζήσει στο παρελθόν δεν ήταν ούτε κατά διάνοια κοντά στην ευτυχία. Με έκανε να ξεχάσω πόσο καταστροφικό ήταν να χρησιμοποιείς αυτήν την φράση σε έναν κόσμο που την χρησιμοποιεί μόνο για να το κάνει. Κι έτσι το έκανα ξανά. Το είπα και το είπα από το πιο βαθύ κομματάκι της ψυχής μου. Δεν με ένοιαζε τι είχα περάσει εξαιτίας αυτής της φράσης γιατί ένιωθα ότι βρήκα αυτό που έψαχνα. Ώσπου ξαφνικά χάθηκε. Σκορπίστηκε στο ξερό αεράκι του καλοκαιριού. Εκείνος είχε φύγει. Σταμάτησα μια στιγμή και σκέφτηκα: “Θεέ μου αυτή η φράση καταστρέφει ότι φτιάχνω με τόσο κόπο. Παίρνει ότι αγαπώ μακριά.” Θύμωσα, ορκίστηκα ότι δεν θα την ξαναπώ, ότι δεν θα το ξανά νιώσω. Πόσο χαζή ήμουν; σε έναν κόσμο που κανείς δεν παίρνει την ευθύνη για όσα ισχυρίζεται ότι αισθάνεται εγώ ξεχωρίζω. Εγώ όντως αισθάνομαι. Και δεν θα σταματήσω να το κάνω μέχρι να βρω κάποιον που να αισθάνεται μαζί μου. Που να λέει Σαγαπάω και να αφιερώνει όλον του τον εαυτό σε αυτήν την φράση. Ο κόσμος είναι τόσο όμορφος για να σταματήσω να ελπίζω. Για να σταματήσω να αισθάνομαι.