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inkskinned · 9 months

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nobody ever gets the mugshot of gluttony right. these days you think it has nothing to do with bodyweight. what a good trick: that gluttony could take a shape. no, there was never any fault in finishing a meal or in taking second helpings. it was always in taking from others that there was an issue - the oil baron's fingers steepled over dead bodies and stolen lands. gluttony - twin of greed, although most think greed and envy are the siblings - gluttony is pleased with the experience of gaining, is thrilled just-by-having. greed is the one that stays hungry, that has to move forever like a shark. gluttony likes it - "a glutton for punishment" is one who is seeking the harm, who loves the rush.

gluttony is a mother using her daughter's body for a diet testing ground, sharpening the bone angles. gluttony is saying why, well not! to the seventh and eighth mansion or yacht. it is not just wanting the six white horses, it is making sure that the horses came from your stables. it is not just bathing in milk - it is bathing in milk while others are starving.

oh, it's true that some sins still blaze in their bright floral prints. wrath in a white woman yelling at a person of color for even daring to be in her neighborhood. the red, incipient rage of a neck tightened at even the thought we would take the guns away. wrath has laurels, and she is good at her job, and works hard.

but sloth wasn't ever the sleepy morning of depression, the hours spent begging a clouded body to please move goddamn it; the protestant work ethic claiming even rest is somehow demonic. it was never chronic fatigue. sloth was subtle, a grey mist. she is watching you get bullied and she is deciding it is none of her business. she crosses the picket line because - what! it's just chicken, isn't it? she is closing her eyes and turning her head when the next anti-gay legislation passes. someone else will handle it. not the tense freeze of anxiety or a lack of preparation - she knows you're hurting and would rather you stay quiet about it. she tells other people i just don't see what the big deal is.

sloth is a father that doesn't do the dishes. sloth is your boyfriend's innocent shrug you're just better at household shit. sloth isn't the missed opportunity - it is the purposeful desire to just get-someone-else-to-do-it.

greed and envy are doing body shots in the back of a private jet. they are the way they always have been, but are lovers in the age of the internet. greed just finished union busting, is rolling a bitcoin over his knuckles, is about to start another MLM. envy is in a broadbrimmed hat, showing off her instagram life, grinning about how if you want it, work for it.

okay, it's true. you have a soft spot for lust, gathering dust in a corner. so tame in comparison to the others. but how funny lust is always painted as being a woman in tight clothes. you've met actually lustful women - the ones that purposefully climb into your partner's lap, the ones that say lesbians are gross but ask bisexual women into bed with their husbands. a lustful woman is not donned in lace and garters and red: that's how men think lust looks, painting their own sins into frame. this way, the sin displaces as fog and hovers above her: a woman in a dress is lust; what the man experiences is just the natural consequence.

here is the thing: lust is doing just fine, save your pity. lust is running more circles than any of them. lust is shutting down safe sexwork sites while also making teenagers in knee-high socks sex sensations. lust is CEO of an advertising network where women never pass 25 years old. all the bras lust makes are pretty to look at but, when worn, legitimately hurt. lust has a podcast, his fur coat looped around his shoulders, sells the idea that only certain people have value, that sex raises some and destroys others. lust is tilting his head and asking what did you expect when you dress like that? lust shuns you, sneers that everything you want is disgusting and taboo - right until he can figure out how to capitalize off of it. lust has the midas ability: everything he touches becomes an object.

people usually say wrath is the scary one. you agree with FMA here, though: the real dangerous one is pride, and the shit-eating grin. the white cloaks and the nationalism and the inability to apologize. it is every partner who threw a book at your head because you don't respect him. it is every mother who said my son doesn't deserve to have his life ruined over allegations. it is the teacher that fails you because you talked back.

you worry you have this one. you feel guilty when you need help but don't ask for it. prideful. ashamed when you complete something and feel good about it. too proud for your own good. but pride is not the reward of hard work or accomplishment: pride is a twitter feed. it is the thing that has to mask i didn't do anything with look at me.

pride is your father's raised hand, his raised voice. how he was never there when you needed him, but he is still "head of house." he ruins dinner and blames it on you: you're an embarrassment to this family. this is the glass you walk around, the cuts in your feet. how he says this isn't how i raised you and you have to bite back the retort: that's because you didn't actually fucking raise me.

#i personally think having any of these desires is totally fine. it's when u use them to hurt others #it's why having ambitions =/= greed: as long as ur ambition isn't ''i hope i can take someone elses good things''#writeblr #warm up #seven deadly sins

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fromforeigntofamiliarity · 9 months

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Hell Hath No Fury | Aemond Targaryen

Request: Yes

Summary: Aemond has become distant and you find out why.

Warning: blood, miscarriage, cheating, assault

Hell Hath No Fury Masterlist

You couldn't believe it.

He was the good brother, the dutiful son, the valiant knight... the faithful husband. There was no way that your Aemond wouldn't do this to you.

This explains why he was traveling so often to Harrenhal away from you for so long when you needed him the most, you thought as you rubbed your swollen belly staring at the piece of paper in your hand.

He had gotten that whore pregnant, and from the letter it seemed you two were both soon to give birth.

Alys Rivers, the strong Bastard, the Witch...Yet another thing you two had in common, maybe your husband had a type.

This was it. the beginning of the end. If Alys Rivers gave birth to that child there is nothing that would stop her from coming to court, having her child legitimized, having Aemond take her as a mistress, bringing shame and embarrassment upon you and your child.

No.

"Push princess, push." The midwife needlessly instructed as someone wiped the sweat from your brow.

"I do appreciate your help and respect and acknowledge that you have helped bring many royals into this world so please forgive me when I say, 'please shut the fuck up and let me concentrate." You yelled back as you took two deep breaths before closing your eyes and letting your head fall backwards.

Opening your eyes again you see your in a hallway standing in front of a door, you can still hear the midwives telling you to push. placing your hand in the door you push it open slowly as you see the sight of Alys Rivers and Aemond in bed together.

His arm is wrapped around her, as they are both naked it isn't hard to guess what it was that had made them so tired. Walking into the room you hear the door close behind you just as you stand right above them. As if sensing your presence Alys' eyes snap open and stare up at you.

She opens her mouth to wake Aemond before you stop her.

"Don't bother calling out, her can't hear us." You informed her reaching for his arm and throwing it away from her causing his to shift in his sleep and turn over. "No one can. From the look on your face I can tell you know exactly who I am, which is amusing considering I knew nothing of you a moon ago."

"I know this must be upsetti-."

"No! You don't because you are not his wife, you are not the one he married and swore loyalty to only to turn around and impregnate some whore." You sneered at her as she flinched back. "What was your plan? to take my husband, become and mistress, you seek to replace me and my child?" You asked as she simply shook her head in denial.

"It was never meant to happen like this, but I love Aemond and he loves me, I'm sorry that you are hurt by this but that is the truth of it. I never thought I would be able to have children but this is a gift that Aemond has given to me and we both are thankful to be having it, but that does not mean he is any less thankful for your child and I promise you that I mean no harm to your life, marriage or the life of your child." Alys rushed to explain. Taking a moment you look on at this women in bed with your husband and think of her words.

"Words....are not enough." You say before Alys' body is forced down into the bed. Leaning over her you pulled the sheets from her body exposing her milky skin to the cold air.

"What are you doing?" Alys asked as she struggled against the invisible force.

"Don't worry I am simply righting a wrong," You informed her as you pulled a knife from your dress. "The child that grows inside of you belongs to my husband" You continue as you placed the blade to her belly.

"No! Please no." Alys pleads as she fight to get away from you. "I'm beg you please. I have wronged you I admit but my child is innocent, Aemond's child is innocent."

"I know." You say before plunging the knife into her womb as she lets out a blood curtailing scream. Once the cut was made you reached inside of her wound ignoring the blood and cries of the women as you pull the child from her body. Cradling the child in your arm you softly coo to the child as Alys lets out another round of sobs. "Please do not morn for the child will live, but it will be birthed by me, as should all children of my husband."

Turning and walking away the door slowly creaks back open allowing you to walk back into the hall. "Though I am very thankful for this gift you and my husband have given to me Alys, I trust it will be the last one" You say before the door closes once again.

"Just one more push my princess." You left you head once again over come with the pain of child birth. "Here it comes." After one more push the room is filled with the cries of your child.

"A prince, you have given birth to a prince." The midwife announced moving to retrieve a blanket for the newborn. She began to hand you your child before you leaned forward and let out a painful groan. "The afterbirth."

another midwife crouched between your leg as you groan in pain. "No there is a head, there is another babe." She informed sending the room into another round of panic as you were instructed again to push.

"Another prince." She soon declares as the second child begins to cry.

Cradling both babes in your arms you look down at the two clearly Targaryen princes with a small smile, Alicent entered the room quickly making it to your side "Aemon and Armon." You names them as she looks to her grandchildren made my her favorite son.

***

It had been three days since Aemond woke to Alys' screams, the sheets around her covered in blood as she cradled her stomach. The maesters said it was a miscarriage, but Alys insisted that it wasn't, when Aemond tried to comfort her she yelled for him to leave her and refused to be near him. After the second day of trying he chose to return to Kingslanding where is was notified that his wife had given birth to twin boys.

Entering the chambers he sees his wife cooing at the two newborns laying on their bed. Turning towards your husband your eyes widen. "Aemond, I thought you were Beth to assist me with taking the twins to midday meal, the family wished to meet them."

"Well I am sorry to disappoint you," Aemond teased walking closer to the bed. "But I promise I can try to be as good as Beth until she arrives."

"Oh stop." You laughed a bit before letting out a sigh. "Actually I am glad that you are here, I wanted to speak with you."

"What is it you wish to speak of?" He asked rubbing his knuckle along Aemon's face.

"I know that this marriage started as an arrangement, but I understand that at the time we both believed that we become fond of each other and perhaps even love, and I thought that we had begun to share these feeling but I realize that I can not hold you to promises we made as children." You now had his full attention. "And if it is what you want, I will not fight you on seeking annulment."

"You have been distant and it was not until the twins were born that I realize just how distant you've become, we used to spend time together, reading, painting, laughing but I gave birth for the first time and my husband was not to be found." You explained. "I do not blame you for not returning my feeling or for pulling away but I can't live thinking that I'm driving you from your home or thinking that this distance between us will affect our children."

"Please," Aemond says grabbing your hand and kneeling at your side. "Your feeling are returned I swear it to you, my distance is of no fault of your own."

"Then what is it?" You pleaded looking into his eyes. "I wish for you to be there for our children, for them to love and be moved by you. You once told me you didn't want to be like your father, I do not want this either."

Looking into your eyes Aemond knew he couldn't tell you the reason, he knew it would break your heart and he couldn't do that to you not after you had just given him two son, not ever. "It matters not, It will never happen again." He assures giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "I will not be the father viserys was to me and I will not be the husband he was to my mother. You three are my life and I will spend every second to assure that you know it.

"My princess It is time for your midday meal with your family." Beth informed entering the chambers.

"Thank you Beth would you please hold Aemon and I will take Armon you instruct as Aemond stands and helps you from the bed. Standing and walking towards the door you asked Beth to please walk ahead of you. "I thank you for hearing me Aemond and I do hope this isn't asking to much but I also must ask something else of you."

Aemond nodded as he rubs his hand up and down your back in comfort.

"I wish for this to be a pleasant occasion so I must ask you not fight with Jace and Luke, though it seems you have grown quite fond of Strong bastards as of late." You say before walking ahead leaving his frozen in the door way of the room.

Part Two

#house of the dragon imagine #House of the dragon #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #aemond x reader #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Alys rivers #aemond x alys #house targaryen #king viserys #jacerys targaryen #lucerys targaryen #harrenhal

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

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Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

Taglist (bold means I couldn't tag you) If I forgot you, I'm sorry! I've never had a taglist this big before!

@hb8301 @that-girl-named-alex @bat-revival @dahlias-and-marigolds @dc-marvel-girl96 @nina2697 @padfooteyes @missusnora @bluebirdonafencepost @bellaisasleep @yentroucnagol @sarahkimtae @imjustboredso @howdoichangemynameto @hopebaker @yelenabeleovapocket @let-love-bleeds-red @maximizedrhythms @xideshiz @siriusdumblittlepuppy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @lemonivall @anisa269 @flavorofsalt @queenofshinigamis @elles-mind-palace @dragonfireandpixiedust @glitterandgoldfinds @daydreamerblues @tswiftsthings @kitkat-writes-stuff @miraclealignertlsp369 @cryztalline @im-obsessed-with-marvel @fluffiy @kotonei-molyneux @natie335 @killjoynotes @mariahossain @bellstwd

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kyra45-helping-others · 28 days

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Please be aware there is scam account called freepalestine1s posting a fake fundraiser that’s copied everything off this one. The fundraiser posted here is the legitimate one! Please don’t donate to the scammer and report them. They are not the person they’re claiming to be. Their fundraiser is a SCAM, do not give them money! Support this one, it’s the source.

(As of 5/21/2024 the scam account is gone now but please watch out if they ever return.)

#gofundme links #palestine #kyra45 speaks

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decolonize-the-left · 5 months

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Within this context let's not forget he also did this in September

If you've taken a break from keeping up with Palestine like calling your reps and helping apply public pressure to the USA and Israel to cease their actions then this is your sign that the break is over.

Your absence is noticeable and you're needed so come back now, please.

#Palestine #gaza #lebanon #Israel #hezbollah

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communistchilchuck · 2 months

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Shahed reached out to me to help spread she and her husband Fadi's fundraiser. They are urgently raising money to evacuate their 11-person family from Gaza. Their campaign has been vetted as legitimate, and they have currently only made $1,245 out of their $62,500 goal! Please share and donate, and if you can't donate, please still share!

Shahed's Tumblr: @shahedsharif11

Fadi's Tumblr: @fadisharif15

From Fadi's GFM:

With a heavy heart and a plea for urgent assistance, I am reaching out to you amidst the dire circumstances faced by my family and me in Gaza. My name is Fadi Al-Sharif, and I reside in Gaza with my wife and our 9-month-old child, alongside my parents, three brothers, and three sisters. We have tragically become victims of the ongoing conflict between Israel and Gaza, which has left our once peaceful home reduced to rubble and ashes.

My goal in communicating is to urgently raise funds to evacuate me and my family from Gaza before the Israeli occupation bombing kills us.

The crossing currently requires a fee of $5,000 per person and $2500 for every child under 16. This is the only way for me and my Family to survive

The funds received will be used as follows:

Fadi $5000

His wife and child: $7,500

Father $5,000

Mother $5,000

Brothers, $15,000

Sisters: $15,000

In addition, we need $10,000 in expenses during our stay in Egypt.

We seek your assistance in this time of uncertainty and despair, as your kindness can make all the difference. Together, let us stand as beacons of hope amidst the darkness of adversity. Your support, regardless of its size, will serve as a ray of light in our darkest hour.

Thank you for extending your hand in solidarity and compassion. With your support, we can begin the journey towards safety

#palestine #free palestine #gaza

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ibtisams · 17 days

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I’m Rania from northern Gaza and this is my story. Can you help us reblog?

By helping us, you will save our lives and you will save my family.

https://gofund.me/bb9466b4

Please help me 😭🍉

This is a legitimate fundraiser with only £15 raised so far! Rania’s husband needs medical treatment, please please donate to help them.

I just donated £5 if anyone can match it!

#gfm #dm

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littlegermanboy · 3 days

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hi @amanigaza , of course i can share.

amani and her three children are seeking to flee gaza after being displaced from gaza city and khan younis, and are now living in a displacement camp in rafah. as of june 5th, her campaign has only raised $1,121 CAD of her $17.7k CAD goal, and her campaign has been active since april 30th - that's only $1k raised in one month. with the unspeakable violence being inflicted across gaza and on the millions of displaced people in rafah, please consider donating to amani's campaign - as little as $5 makes a difference in helping amani's family reach safety outside of gaza. if you can't donate, then please share.

additionally, this campaign has been verified by @nabulsi in this post, so you can be confident your money is going to a legitimate source.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #gaza strip #rafah #eyes on gaza #eyes on rafah #evacuation fund #gaza mutual aid #gaza fundraiser

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charlotte-official · 1 month

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4/15/24 - 4/25/24

THE STEAMBIRD

a/n: ahhhhh I am horrible at keeping up with the schedule I set for myself. HOPEFULLY, however, I'll be able to do better from here on out- especially since summer break is coming up soon!!

headlines: house of the hearth has no rejects, go away il dottore. red haired winery owner is not your daddy. legal advisor helps gay exorcist come out to parents. boys who live with wolves and cat girls are stinky, dawn winery owner says. light of ksharewar angers “the horde” for denying homosexuality. artifacts make super goose, harbinger overthrown.

written by @charnverite

HOUSE OF THE HEARTH HAS NO REJECTS, GO AWAY IL DOTTORE

WARNING: IL DOTTORE IS NOT A LEGITIMATE DOCTOR YOU WANT TO BE SENDING YOUR CHILDREN TO GET CHECKED UP. THIS IS A FORMAL WARNING FROM THE STEAMBIRD. PLEASE DO NOT TRY TO SEEK HIM OUT EXPECTING MIRACLES AND CANDY.

On April 23, Il Dottore asked Arlecchino for the House of the Hearth's rejects, to which she swiftly declined. What transpired was a small argument between the Fatui Harbingers, Il Dottore throwing petty insults here and there before giving up and deciding to leave Arlecchino alone.

Il Dottore, or the 2nd Fatui Harbinger, is known for his wild, cruel, and sadistic nature. The Doctor is infamous for his experiments, being known to go to inhumane and disgusting degrees. Dottore, in approaching the Knave, Arlecchino, the House of the Hearth's director and 4th Fatui Harbinger, asked for the said "rejects" of her "children." To this, the Knave curtly responded with less than 5 words: "No. ♥️"

"He wanted me to send any "rejects" to him. He planned to experiment on them and then share the results with me." ~Arlecchino, The Knave, 4th Fatui Harbinger. Talking about The Doctor - Statement obtained by the Traveler.

The Doctor found himself to be bewildered to be treated with such a simplistic and dismissive statement, replying "Well fuck you too, you bitch. It would’ve been better if your mother won that fight." Arlecchino would continue to respond quickly and calmly as Dottore continuously shot insults at the woman who called him a cunt once. Sarcastically, Dottore would tell her to die and Arlecchino would tell the man that that is his job. He would then give up, saying he'll leave her children alone.

While the Knave may have been able to bore Il Dottore away by being unresponive to his vulgar insults and taunts, there's no guarantee that the Doctor certainly won't try again. As according to several unnamed witnesses, it's been seen that a mint haired man would approach the House of the Hearth at least once every two weeks. Could the Knave be truly considering his offer or does she remain stagnant in her decision?

ft. @arlecchino-official @dottore-official

RED HAIRED WINERY OWNER: NOT YOUR DADDY

Taking a look at the red haired Diluc Ragvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery, would one think that he is a man with children? Well, obviously not, seeing as the man lives alone in his manor and a face too young to be considered a father at any point in his life. However, on some odd day, one of Diluc's anons, Hug anon, decided to tell the man he was father to various children- though not biological.

A sort of routine between the man and his anonymous friend, is that every some day, the two exchange pleasantries in regards to how the other has been doing, or what they have been doing. A consistent pattern with Ragvindr, however, is that nothing very interesting really ever happens to him. So once again, after a slight argument with his friend, they began to exchange said pleasantries, Diluc once more admitting nothing really happened with him. Hug anon, growing a tad impatient, insisting that surely something must've happened, and Diluc continued to deny such.

Growing frustrated, the anon persisted asking that if they were to ask someone else- say, his kids or brother("..who you don't acknowledge"). This is what piqued Diluc's interest. He didn't have any kids, after all, so the man was reasonably confused. The anon continued to elaborate, saying that they weren't biological.

ka"Are you implying that I am either pregnant, gotten someone pregnant, or adopted someone." ~ Diluc Ragvindr, Owner of the Dawn Winery.

The anon continued to tell Diluc, saying that he has "adopted multiple someones whether he has realized it or not." Finally, the anon finally caved and decided to tell who the alleged "children" were, listing off names such as that of the Spark Knight of the Knights of Favonius, Klee, or the Cat's Tail's Bartender, Diona (who has expressed fervently that she despises the man). Diluc denied the accusation, and Hug anon later told him that he just can't accept his emotional attachments. Diluc then became slightly upset, opting to ignore the anon, who rushed to go "tattle" on him to his adopted brother, Kaeya Alberich.

This, unfortunately, backfired. As the Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius pointed out that the claim was rather baseless, as Diluc didn't even interact with said children on a frequent enough basis to be considered a father figure to any of them. Diona, catching wind of the allegation had quite a bit to say on the matter.

"Ew! Diluc is not even close enough to being called my dad! I wouldn't even let myself get within a 5 mile radius if I could choose, ew... And I already have a daddy so scratch the idea!! It's a not very good one, no offense, but EW!!!" ~Diona Katzlein, Bartender for the Cat's Tail.

ft. @diluc-official , @kaeya-official , @diona-official

indirect mention (the literal blog was not actually involved). @razor-official , @bennett-official , @fischl-official , @klee-official .

LEGAL ADVISOR HELPS GAY EXORCIST COME OUT TO PARENTS

It's no secret that the pale haired exorcist, Chongyun of Liyue, is a homosexual. The guy has stated it various times, and unlike Sumeru's Light of Ksharewar, he openly accepts it. ...However, the exception to his open acceptance of sexuality is his parents. With the help of his friend and famous legal advisor, Yanfei, the two scheme and try to lay out a plan to help him come out to his parents.

Chongyun, in desperation, made a statement clearly crying for help, saying that if his family asked again whether he's gotten a partner or not he may just run away to Fontaine to become a potato farmer. Yanfei, friend and "professional bullier" to Chongyun, asked if the exorcist didn't already have a partner, as she was under the impression he did. (She tends to tease him about having a boyfriend, though never names who.) Chongyun denies this and Yanfei begins throwing accusations at the poor exorcist.

With his head in his hands, the exorcist swiftly ignores the legal advisor's questions and explains that his parents don't know anything about his interest in males and that he's scared to tell them about his "swinging the other way." From there, Yanfei attempted to ask Chongyun about the scope of his situation, trying to formulate how he could tell his parents of his situation. Chongyun wasn't very eager about this, asking Yanfei anxiously if his parents really did need to know. However, Yanfei rebutted that if he didn't do it, his parents would begin asking for grandchildren and where his girlfriend or spouse.

Chongyun responded that his parents were already doing as such and asked why it sounded like she had experience in this sort of scenario. Yanfei admitted that her parents didn't know yet and they would ask if she had a boyfriend yet.

"there is no experience a girl just knows ok well actually my parents send letters asking if I have a boyfriend yet and I just send a blank piece of paper that says nothing except 'idk'LISTEN I JUST THINK JTS FUNNY TO SEND THEM BLANK PAPERS LIKE THAT" ~Yanfei, Legal Advisor from Liyue.

"LISTEN I JUST THINK JTS FUNNY TO SEND THEM BLANK PAPERS LIKE THAT" ~Yanfei, Legal Advisor from Liyue.

It turned out, that Yanfei's secret was sending her parents basically blank pieces of paper to avoid the question, to which Chongyun mused, asking if he could try that himself. Yanfei pointed out that it wouldn't work since he lives near his parents. Chongyun admitted that his travels around Teyvat were mostly because he wanted to avoid his parents. So alas, the two friends began discussing how Chongyun could come out of his parents while simultaneously arguing whether he had a boyfriend or not. Chongyun continued to deny as such, saying that he'd never lie to Yanfei. She retorted back that he lied when Xiangling ate one of the pages in her law book.

The two ended up agreeing that Yanfei could help introduce the idea of homosexuality to the exorcist's parents so that all he would need to say is that he was gay. And with that, the Yanfei set off with Chongyun to help get himself uncloseted. How did his parents react? Well, stay subscribed to the Steambird to find out in the future!

ft. @yanfei-official @chongyun-official indirect. @xiangling-official

BOYS WHO LIVE WITH WOLVES AND CAT GIRLS ARE STINKY, DAWN WINERY OWNER SAYS

Diluc Ragnvindr, was asked a question. Who is the stinkiest person in Mondstadt? Diluc, to this, answered immediately, Razor, from Wolvendom. The user denied this answer and asked him to name another person.

"Well he's kinda homeless... So name someone in the city or Springvale." ~user

To this, Diluc began to be more reluctant to answer the question, mumbling that he was actually thinking about Diona, bartender from the Cat's Tail. The user, appalled, asked him why, which he answered was because she smelled like gerbil cages.

ft. diluc-official

indirect: diona-official , razor-official

LIGHT OF KSHAREWAR ANGERS "THE HORDE" FOR DENYING HOMOSEXUALITY

In regards to gossip surrounding Sumeru's Light of Ksharewar, Teyvat continues to speculate the man is a homosexual. The General Mahamatra, being known for his serious nature and horrible jokes, told a joke about the Acting Grand Sage, Alhaitham, about hating pork. To this, the Light of Ksharewar, Kaveh, replied he hates Alhaitham. The rest of Sumeru seemed to disagree.

On a particularly quiet day in Sumeru City, Cyno, the General Mahamatra decided to share another one of his infamous jokes, "Why does no one in Sumeru eat pork? because they All-hait-ham". Kaveh, Light of Ksharewar, catching wind of this, commented that he hates the Alhaitham. Cyno immediately called Kaveh out, calling him a liar, Kaveh arguing back that Cyno can't just throw around assumptions like that(with horrible spelling). Zandik, a scholar, also agreed with the General Mahamatra. The Light of Ksharewar frantically rushed to explain his stance, arguing against the scholar with even worse spelling.

"And here we see a human adult displaying what is deemed 'queer' behavioral traits. Note how the text rapidly goes into 'keysmash' territory and transitions to an 'all-caps' mode. These are key signs of a homo sapiens in distress or in a state of intense emotional responses attributed to overly positive emotions rather than negative. It is best not to further distress the individual lest they alert The Horde. And woe betide any who dare to alert The Horde." ~Dendro Dragon Sovereign, Apep

Apep, Sumeru's Dragon Sovereign, commented on the architect's behavior, much like that of a scientist studying a specimen on a documentary. In regards to Apep's last two sentences, Kaveh found himself confused on who the mysterious "Horde" was. Apep said nothing besides that the lesbians would eat him alive.

ft. @kaveh-official , @general-mahamatra-cyno-official , @zandik-official , @dendro-dragon-apep

SUPER GOOSE TERRORIZES SURROUNDINGS, OVERTHROWS HARBINGER

Did you know the Fatui, an infamous organization in Snezhnaya, has a pet goose? Meet Cecil, the Fatuus goose who was given artifacts by Sumeru's Dragon Sovereign, Apep? Unbeknownst to the goose, she gained immense power and began to terrorize her surroundings.

When Apep spotted the goose trying to pick up a giant claymore with her beak, an amusing thought was brought to the dragon's mind. So alas, naturally they would give the goose ancient artifacts which withhold elemental energy that can boost one's battle performance. With the artifact set being gifted to the goose, Apep sent her off with a boost in physical strength. However, it turns out that the goose was already relatively powerful to begin with! Cecil, as shown through previous interactions is adept with a sword and various other weapons, which she uses to terrorize others. In fact, it was found by the Traveler that the goose posessed a delusion!

In later developments, it was uncovered that the goose had dueled with the 11th Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia. It has been led to believe that the delusion the goose has acquired was from none other then that of beating Tartaglia in said duel! Additionally, the goose has gone as far as to challenge the Traveler to a fight and bite ferociously at Diluc Ragnvindr, Dawn Winery owner, and il Dottore segment, Epsilon. (Who is seemingly... acquainted with Ragvindr despite the redhead being known for his dislike towards the Fatui.)

Despite the goose's aggression towards most, the exceptions to Cecil's ferocity are that of a puppet with the sigil of the Electro Archon and a mermaid from Fontaine. As studied, the bird seems to hold a sort of affection for her puppet friend, Kabukimono, and mermaid pal, Niananian.

In the end, while this Fatui member goose may be simply just a, well, goose, she is a force to be reckoned with! Step with caution, dear readers, because you may want to be wary of geese! You may never know which one has Verdant Blessings of Chaos from the Dendro Dragon Sovereign!

ft. @goose-of-the-fatui , dendro-dragon-apep , @snezhnayain-carrot-top , @not-the-darknight , @segment-epsilon , @stelliferousduo , @thewanderingpuppet , @purple-scales-and-tales

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

Note

I just realised I forgot to send a request!! silly sausage hours fr ✌🏻😔

anywho! if it is at all interesting to you, I was wondering if you’d like to write a Protective!Jon x Short!S/O based piece?? can be whatever you want, a blurb, headcannon, imagine - whatever idea comes to you based on this very vague prompt cuz I want to give you all the creative wiggle room to do what you want to do!!

could be something about the Short!S/O getting hurt defending Jon when someone talks shit about him or Jon sees/finds out his S/O was being harassed/had been touched without consent in any way and he sees RED, could be anything at all!! just some real good protective Jon Snow content pretty please 🥺💗

but, all the same, if this idea doesnt grab you then please do not feel at all pressured in writing it, it’s completely up to you!! no hard feelings 🤗

I wish you the most wonderful rest of your day!! ♡

That’s My Girl

Request: if it is at all interesting to you, I was wondering if you’d like to write a Protective!Jon x Short!S/O based piece?? can be whatever you want, a blurb, headcannon, imagine - whatever idea comes to you based on this very vague prompt cuz I want to give you all the creative wiggle room to do what you want to do!! could be something about the Short!S/O getting hurt defending Jon when someone talks shit about him or Jon sees/finds out his S/O was being harassed/had been touched without consent in any way and he sees RED, could be anything at all!! just some real good protective Jon Snow content pretty please

Hi! Thank you for the request, I'm sorry for the long wait. This is my first time writing for Jon! I’m hoping this is what you were looking for, but if not. Just let me know and I'd be able to fix it or write you something else.

I love Jon, I'm happy to write for him. To make sense of the story, the reader is technically a Bolton, and a sister to Ramsey. I set this around season 5-6. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, violence, a fight, mentions of blood and wounds, slight sexual harassment, gross men, let me know if i missed anything)

—

The Wall was not a good place for a woman. That fact, you knew all too well.

Women weren’t allowed at the wall, regardless of station or reason. This was a fact your family knew, and a fact they ignored.

You were born to a handmaiden, fathered by Roose Bolton. When you entered the early stages of being a woman, Lord Bolton legitimized you, and sent you to Winterfell to learn the ways of being a Lady. He figured you may be useful to him one day, someone he could marry off for an advantage.

Winterfell was where you met Jon Snow. He had always liked you. While you were technically a Bolton, you lived more than half of your life as a Snow. You were no longer legally a bastard, but you felt like one anyway.

Jon knew the feeling, and you became quite close throughout your years, before he left for the Wall and the rest of the Starks left as well.

You lived through the Greyjoy Rebellion, when Theon came and took Winterfell. You received word from your father, and were asked to stay anyways. After Robb’s death, the Bolton’s officially took over the castle.

Despite your father being named Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, he was no family to you. You’d never see him as such. Instead, the Northern folk who had lived in the city since the reign of the Starks took care of you, always there to be a friend if you needed them.

They were your true family. Them, and the Starks, although you hadn’t seen any of them in years. Most of them were dead.

When Lord Bolton died and his position was passed to the newly legitimized Ramsay Bolton, the families that had helped you sent you away for your own safety.

With you being the last legitimate Bolton, other than Ramsey, you challenged the claim to the North, despite being a woman. The North liked you more, and Ramsay was afraid they’d rebel if he allowed you to live.

You went to the Wall, seeking asylum.

You reconnected with Jon, who had recently been named Lord Commander. He allowed you to stay, despite the rules he was meant to follow.

But if he had allowed the Wildlings passage, he could allow you to stay as well.

To appease the men, you worked as a stewardess, making up for being another mouth to feed and for filling a bed in the single room. The only other empty single room, next to the Lord Commander’s suite.

It got easier as the weeks passed, and you slipped into a routine that was comfortable enough.

Sometimes, the men were a little rough with you. It was if they forgot you were a woman, not remembering to be gentler with you.

Others never forgot you were a woman, keeping their eyes on you at all times.

This occurred on opposite ends of the spectrum, one end containing men like Jon, Edd, and Sam, and the other containing men like Ser Allister, who hated you being there, as well as the men who wouldn’t hesitate to do you harm.

You knew those who followed Jon would keep an eye on you, never allowing true harm to come your way, but you still kept your guard up most of the time. In between doing your duties, you trained with the men, learning combat skills.

It reminded you of the times in Winterfell as children, when Jon would sneak you out of lessons with the Septa to train with him.

You were quite short, compared to the women of your age. Jon was on the shorter side too, in comparison to other men, but he could hold his own well enough. He wanted you to be able to do the same, so he wouldn’t have to worry as much about your safety.

You had gotten quite good at it, especially with the refresher at the Wall, and you were confident enough that you could handle yourself.

That didn’t mean you necessarily wanted to. If you could avoid it, you’d try and keep to yourself for most of the day, ignoring the men you didn’t like. But some of them made it quite hard on you.

“Lady Snow,” Ser Alliser taunted, coming into the kitchen where you were scrubbing pots. “Where’s your Commander? Figured he would’ve sent one of his watchdogs to come guard you, considering he isn’t here to do it himself.”

“He’s just as much your Commander as he is mine,” you replied, not looking up to dignify him with a reaction.

“That may be,” he said, taking a step towards you. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a growl coming from behind you, and saw a white beast stepping out from behind your legs.

“You’re right, My Lord,” you said, leaning over to scratch behind Ghost’s ears. “Jon did leave me unattended. Although, I expect a direwolf is as good of a watchdog as any man here. Would you like to test that theory? Come closer, then.”

Ghost snarled at Ser Alliser, making him take a step back. He glared at you, retreating to the door.

“You don’t belong here, Snow. You’ll come to see that soon.”

“Thank you for that,” you called, returning back to your work. “You can piss off now.”

—

Later that day, much to your annoyance, another group of some of the men tried your patience again.

It was before dinner, when you had just finished up with your duties for the day. You had just brought Ghost his dinner, and were returning to the hall to eat, when three men cornered you in the courtyard.

“What do you want?” You asked, unimpressed.

“We want you to go,” one replied, making you roll your eyes.

The one closest to you nodded in agreement. “We didn’t vote for Jon to be the Commander.”

“You’re lucky you have him—“

He cut you off, his tone more aggressive. “Are we? So far, in the weeks he’s been Commander, he let the Wildlings through our gates. Now, he’s let a girl in.”

“That’s your problem? Ser Alliser almost let the Wall fall because of his own pride,” you spat, growing angry. “He should have listened to Jon when he had the chance. It cost us lives.”

“Us? There’s no us, you’re not one of us,” the man on the right finally spoke. His voice was significantly higher than he looked like he would sound, making you chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” The middle man asked.

“All of you,” you replied. “You’re very amusing to watch. Pathetic, really.”

“Watch your tone, bitch,” the man closest to you said. “Nobody wants to hear your mouth. As far I’m concerned, a woman has two purposes. Popping out kids, and warming my bed. Would you be interested in either?

You raised a brow, clenching your fists at your sides. He smirked, taking a step closer to you.

“What? Cat got your tongue, bitch? Not brave enough to say something without your useless Lord Commander there to save you?”

You couldn’t contain yourself any longer, swinging and cracking your knuckles across his jaw. You swung again before he could recover, smashing your fist into the bridge of his nose. He faltered back this time, landing on his ass.

“What?” You smirked, flexing your hand. “Cat got your tongue?”

He snarled, standing up. The other two tried to hold him back, afraid of what would happen if they actually hurt the Lord Commander’s girl, but they weren’t strong enough. He broke through, shaking them off.

Before you could take a step back, you felt a palm strike across your cheek, stinging the flesh. His ring caught on your cheekbone, cutting a small slit.

You brought a hand up to your face in shock, balling your hand into a fist, but he caught your wrist in the air, squeezing it tight. You gasped in pain, whimpering.

“What are you gonna do now?” He asked, wiping the blood from his nose.

“Let me go,” you said, trying to pull away. “Let me go, or you’ll regret it.”

“Yeah? Why’s that? What are—“

“Hey!”

You turned your heads across the yard to see Edd standing near the kennel door, Ghost standing next to his side. Ghost snarled, looking ready to pounce.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her go!” He said, bounding towards you.

You felt the man let go of your wrist, and heard their footsteps retreating as Edd approached you. You rubbed your wrist, reaching down to run a hand through Ghost’s fur when he got to your side.

“Hey, boy,” you muttered, then turning to Edd. “What are you doing? Why’d you let Ghost out?”

“He was pawing at the door, whining, I heard him all the way from the watchtower. He wouldn’t stop till I let him out. He ran out here, and I followed him. What happened, what did they do to you?”

You shook your head. “It’s alright, I’m fine.”

“Your cheek is red and scratched, and your wrist is already bruising. You’re not fine. Jon is gonna raise hell when he sees it. Not that you couldn’t handle your own, but what were you thinking? Three against one isn’t good odds to start throwing punches.”

You groaned, casting your eyes on the ground. Edd sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Come on, then. He’s still in his office, and everyone else is in the dining hall. I’ll take you halfway, and keep everyone occupied till you’re ready to come back.”

“But—“

“No buts. Jon would have my head if I didn’t take you to him straight away. You’re going.”

You relented, giving him a grateful nod as he led the way. He left you halfway, as promised. You walked the rest of the way yourself, only hesitating when you found yourself outside of Jon’s office.

Sighing, you went in.

He was at his desk, his head down. He shuffled through papers, sorting through everything on his desk. You slowly approached, wringing your hands together.

“Jon,” you said softly.

��I’m almost done, love, give me a minute.”

You internally groaned, preparing yourself for the painful conversation you were about to have. You spoke again.

“Jon.”

“What?” He sighed, looking up, only to drop his things at the sight of you. “Y/N?”

He hurriedly stood, pushing his chair back and bounding around his desk to stand in front of you, cupping your jaw in his hands. You grimaced as he turned your head, inspecting your cheek more closely. He was absolutely fuming, practically shaking with rage.

His voice was eerily calm. “Who?”

“Jon—“ You started, but he cut you off.

“Y/N…who?”

“I don’t even know their names, you’ll have to ask Edd,” you relented. “It was three men. He stopped them.”

“What happened?”

“The same as usual. They don’t like that I’m here, they don’t like that you’re Lord Commander, and they think I’m making it worse for everyone being with you.”

“That’s not true—“

“I know,” you immediately said, sighing. “I know. And normally, I ignore them, or stay calm till they get bored and eventually leave me alone. But this time, I just got too angry. It wasn’t just me they were insulting, it was you, too.”

Jon seethed as he listened to you talk, moving from your cheek to inspect your wrist. The bruise had settled to a garish green.

“He threatened me, and I swung. I don’t know why I did it, but he went down. Obviously, he didn’t take very kindly to being hit by a girl, as you can see.”

“You don’t hit a woman,” Jon said, cradling your face in his palms, gently wiping away the dry blood on your cheek. “I’ll find them. I’ll find them, and they’ll wish they’d never laid eyes on you. The noose is too good for them.”

You leaned your forehead against his, trying to calm him down.

“I’m alright, Jon. I’m alright. That’s enough, for now.”

He took a deep breath as he rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. You ran a comforting hand over his, drawing circles with your thumb over the back of it.

“You can’t fight my battles for me, darling. You can’t get yourself hurt because of me.”

You shook your head, almost grinning. “Why not? You do it for me.”

“You’re too pretty for scars,” he mused, caressing your cheeks.

“So are you,” you agreed, tracing your finger across the one that had faded to a thin white line, just over his brow. “And yet you fight for me. It’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

Jon sighed, looking down at you with soft and loving eyes. “So, what did he look like?”

“What?” You asked, shaking your head in confusion.

“The other guy. What did he look like?”

“Worse,” you grinned proudly. “Much worse. I think I broke his nose. And his jaw is sure to be hurting for the next few days.”

Jon smiled, holding you by the waist and pulling you into him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing you in.

“That’s my girl.”

—

A/N - Hi! Sorry that this is on the shorter side, I hope you still like it. I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think!

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #jon snow #jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader

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nabulsi · 3 days

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Hi I received this ask and would like to see if it is legitimate. Thank you for your help!

I am Mahmoud Helles, the owner of the donation campaign. The campaign aims to get my family out of Gaza and take my wife to Egypt. Please share 🌹🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🌹😭😭https://gofund.me/53fa2830

Hi! Thanks for reaching out. I think I already confirmed this but it bears repeating of course. Mahmoud is legitimate. He is a Gazan father who had to leave Gaza to provide for his family and he seeks to evacuate his family and reunite with them. Please donate and share if you can.

#mahmoud hilles #palestine #gaza #free palestine #free gaza #gaza fundraiser #gaza mutual aid #gaza under attack #gaza families #paptalk #anonymous

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castielslostwings · 2 years

Text

Please help me tell people about my book!

Hi! I'm publishing a book! It's HERE, just in time for Christmas!! It's GAY!! It's romantic!!! It's HOT! It has firefighters and background sapphic romance, and is exciting AF!!!

I'm very excited, too!

Both U.S. domestic and international friends can order shipped Paperbacks from me directly via my Ko-Fi shop (retailers take less of a cut): https://ko-fi.com/castielslostwings/shop Or you can order on amazon directly, this is the only way to get the KINDLE ebook option: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1945687126

Standard EPUB format is available to download directly from me for $1 cheaper than Amazon: https://ko-fi.com/s/2a82c64d56

And WILL be available at other retailers soon!

Here's the thing: I had a pretty solid platform on Twitter, but since Elon took over, a lot of my followers left, the algorithm crashed, and the whole thing might go under. I don't have the same reach on other platforms, so I need some help! Please share this post if you like GAY SHIT and BOOKS and helping indie content creators be successful!!! Please follow me or check out my ko-fi for updates! Thanks!!! Here's my pitch, hope you like it:

"Fire & Ice": The flaming hot queer romance novel where a foray into BDSM helps two best friends find themselves, each other, and what it really means to burn. Summary: "Firefighter Tripp Truett has somehow tumbled into a whole new kind of relationship with his quirky paramedic best friend, Lee, but mutual relief from their high-stress jobs quickly develops into something more. With all the missed signals and crossed wires, can these two ever figure out that they're so much closer to being on the same page than they think?"

**************************************** About the author (info dump ahoy!!!!) :

I'm Robin, sometimes known as Wings! I'm a 36-year-old, queer, autistic, disabled mom of 2 humans and 5 senior rescue dogs, former R.N. & paramedic. I'm a hardcore fangirl and a proud fanfic writer (and reader), and while I know some people will judge me for that, I am not ashamed! I started writing as a hobby after becoming physically disabled and unable to work as an RN. Fanfic gave me an audience and an outlet, gifted me purpose and hope again. Transformative fiction is FUN! It fosters creativity and passion, heals wounds, and makes people happy. If someone wants to discredit me for that, then perhaps they aren't the audience I'm seeking.

Ultimately, I know I'm taking a risk, but since people seem to enjoy my fics, this book is my attempt to try and make ends meet through original fiction! I know some people WILL discredit me. But I'm always about being myself and speaking on what I feel matters: Fanfic should be legitimized as a creative medium. I assure you, friends—the thousands of hours I've spent on my fanworks are as REAL as it gets. The intersection of disparaging fanfic + sexism/misogyny can't be overstated—women (esp queer women)'s unpaid work is often treated as a "hobby," not worthy of uplifting. I'm here to uplift! The risk is worth it—I would have nothing without fanfic & I'm proud. Younger creators shouldn't feel shame about writing/reading fanfic. We should ALL approach it as a legitimate medium. In fact, MOST new media these days is transformative "fanwork" of SOME kind, whether it's inspired by, based on, or outright rebooting existing worlds.

Plus, we queer folk simply deserve to see our stories in the mainstream media and to see the characters we fall in love, identify with, and root for to get their happily ever afters.

TL;DR: I'm keeping my name and history. Hopefully, I'll be successful in original fiction, but if not, I'll still be a fangirl. Please consider supporting me + other creators attempting to dip into original works. Follow or subscribe to my ko-fi for previews, updates, access to my discord community where I share exclusive content, and more: https://ko-fi.com/castielslostwings FIRE & ICE IS NOW AVAILABLE THROUGH MULTIPLE PLATFORMS! Ko-Fi subscribers will have the option to buy signed copies & merch bundles! The link to purchase will also be posted there first.

A MAJOR thank you to my friends, editors, and to everyone who in my server for supporting and encouraging me to put myself out there and try something new. Love you guys so much. <3 Thank you to @chaoticdean for the beautiful cover. Many more thank yous to come. P.S. If you are reading this and know anyone with a platform who might be interested in receiving a free copy in exchange for promo (only if they enjoy, ofc), please holler at me, I can use all the help I can get!

<3 Wings

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mushroomweirdo · 5 days

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https://www.gofundme.com/f/ne9gzx-help-them-to-survive?utm_campaign=p_lico+share-sheet-first-launch&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_source=customer

Dear Friends,

I hope this message finds you well. I am writing to share an urgent plea for help. Due to the ongoing conflict in Gaza, my family and I have been forced to flee our home and seek refuge in Khan Younis. My mother, who is pregnant, is in critical need of assistance to ensure her safety and the safety of her unborn child.

We are facing severe hardships and are struggling to provide her with the necessary medical care and basic necessities. I have launched a campaign to raise funds for my mother's survival during this perilous time.

Your support in sharing our campaign on social media could make a life-saving difference. Please help us spread the word and gather the support we desperately need.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Sincerely,

Please help us by sharing the post on your page so that we can collect donations and get out of the war. You are our hope. I will be very grateful to you . ❤️🙏🏼

"this fundraiser is vetted by nabulsi, fallahifag, el-shab-hussein, ibtisams, sayruq"

This fundraiser has been proven to be legitimate,so please do anything you can to help Laila and her family get out of the war❤️.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #jerusalem #current events #israel #yemen #tel aviv #palestine news #important #fundraisers

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thezombieprostitute · 4 months

Text

Sparks fly - Part 2

Summary: After working as an engineer for Wilford & Gilliam Trust for several years you find evidence of seedy dealings and burned books. After turning in the evidence you find yourself in danger and seek help. You're taken into the protection of a mob family where you run into your high school best friend, Mace.

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 1 -- Part 3

Series Masterlist

After Huffman left you hugged Mace again, much tighter this time. You'd been hiding how scared and angry you were from Huffman but Mace was a familiar, trustworthy face. He hugged you back and you cried out your frustrations from the past week. Mace didn't say anything the entire time and you appreciated that.

When you felt a little better you gently pull yourself away and ask, "so how is this place different from the last three? Other than a familiar face. Why is this place deemed safer?"

"Because it's not an on-the-books safehouse," he starts. "That means any moles on the force won't know about it. And, because we know who to talk to and whose palms to grease, we can install security measures way more potent than the legitimate safehouses get away with."

"This... This isn't legal?" Your eyes widen as your voice lowers to a whisper, "Mace, what kind of people are you involved with?"

“Good people,” he assures. “People who look out for their communities first and foremost. People who take protection seriously.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I know it’s been a while, but I’ll trust you about the people.” You hesitate before asking, “can I see some of the security measures? For my own peace of mind?”

“Of course,” he confirmed. “Let’s start with the basics.” He takes you on a tour of the apartment, detailing all of the security measures. Bulletproof windows, motion sensors that turn on the lights when the front door is opened, even a solid steel headboard on the bed to protect from possible shots through the walls. It definitely felt safer than the last few places you were in.

Mace was talking you through the setup when your stomach made an audible growl. Heat rushed to your face in mortification but Mace definitely heard it and asked when you had last eaten.

“I…I think it was this morning? Maybe a granola bar?”

“Well that won’t do,” he says as he heads into the kitchen. “I wasn’t able to fully stock the place given the time, but I definitely got enough to cook us up some dinner.”

“Since when can you cook,” you giggle. “Last time I saw you in a kitchen you were burning the instant ramen in the microwave!”

“I’ve changed a lot since high school,” he bantered. “I’ve picked up lots of skills since you last saw me.”

“Also a sense of style,” you tease. “I forgot to mention that I like the haircut. Buzzcut definitely suits you better than that mop you had back then.”

He laughs at that as he starts cooking. You’re so glad he agreed to stay. You haven’t felt this calm in days. Well, you haven’t felt this safe in days; you haven’t felt this relaxed in years. The two of you chat as he cooks up some grilled cheeses, making sure to cut yours diagonally.

“You remembered,” you exclaim.

“Kinda hard to forget your comfort foods when they’re also my comfort foods.”

“Yeah, but you don’t like yours cut diagonally, heathen.”

He smiles, “it’s because you always made such a big deal about me not cutting my sandwiches that I remember.”

You eat the grilled cheese faster than you intend, finally realizing how hungry you are. You want to ask for another but he still hasn’t finished his so you wait. He sees you eyeing his sandwich, smiles, and heads back into the kitchen, cooking up another for you while eating his own. “Thanks AC,” you whisper.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about being hungry, DC,” he gently chides.

“I know,” you concede. “I’ve gotten better about putting my needs first but…”

“It’s easy to fall back on old habits? Especially when you’ve been put through the wringer in terms of stress? Especially when you’ve been in survival mode for at least a week?”

You smile, “thank you for understanding.” He smiles as nods as he monitors his cooking. “Some days I really do miss having you to help me against bullies. Or other people who wanted me to do their homework for them. Having you around probably would’ve kept me from getting involved in all of this.”

“How so?”

“Helping everyone with their work let me see connections they couldn’t. I was able to pick up on a bunch of irregularities because I was doing second checking for other departments. Daryl from Chemical Engineering R&D needed me to take on some of his work so he could flirt with Jo from Accounting. Elaine from Bio-engineering asked me to help her with some equations so she could leave work early. Just, all these people from all of these different branches and that’s how I noticed things I probably shouldn’t have.”

“All because you wanted to be helpful, because you’re a good, nice person,” Mace comments as he hands you another sandwich, sliced diagonally. You nod your head as you start eating. “Might sound strange, but I’m glad.” You tilt your head in confusion. “I’m glad you’re still a good person. That you still want to be a good person. It can be incredibly tough to do.”

The moment is interrupted by Mace’s phone buzzing. He reads the text message and you can’t read the expression on his face.

“Backup has been found,” he tells you. “The guy’s methods are…a little off but he’s one of the best.”

“Will I be meeting him?”

“No, thankfully. GBH likes to keep as low a profile as he can while he’s working.”

“GBH?”

Mace sighs, “he…he calls himself God the Bounty Hunter.” Your eyes widen with shock. “I know, I know. Like I said, he’s weird but dammit if he isn’t great at protection. If they got someone that I didn’t think could keep you safe I’d argue for someone else.” His blue green eyes look deep into yours, “please trust me, DC?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Now, we should probably get you some sleep. The bed is yours. Feel free to keep on whatever lights you want or need to help you sleep. If you need a fan or a white noise machine, I can get that set up for you.”

“Where are you sleeping?”

“I’ll be pushing that living room chair in front of the door. Make sure no one can open it and no one can try to open it without alerting me.”

“Mace! There’s no way you’re sleeping like that!”

“I’ve slept in worse scenarios, DC. Besides, I personally test all the chairs and couches in the safehouses so I know damn well how comfortable it is.”

“But…”

“No arguments. You’re tired. You’ve had a very long and very dangerous week. We’ve got backup watching over this apartment and I know I’ll sleep easier knowing I’m between you and the door.” He gently pushes you towards the bedroom, “so please let yourself get some sleep. If you need me, I’ll be right here. Don’t be afraid to wake me up for anything, okay?”

“Thank you,” you hummed. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”