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moonlightazriel · 2 days

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Chapter 11: Illusions /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: They part on their journey to Koschei’s lair.

Word Count: 2,3K

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of fighting and blood.

Notes: I love this chapter so so much hehehehehe

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Worlds Apart Masterlist

She woke up to a familiar smell, her face pressed against a soft, warm chest. Her eyes slowly blinked, and she looked up, seeing the most beautiful sight ever. Azriel rested peacefully, sun casting a glow to his brown skin, his hair softly falling on his forehead.

His lips formed a cute pout and he snored a bit. He looked so serene and pretty like this. She kept watching him, her finger tracing the contour of his jaw, watching as his long eyelashes fluttered open.

“Good morning.” He said, his voice raspy from sleeping. He caressed her cheek.

“Good morning.” She replied, yawning as she got up. “We have to prepare, we will travel tonight.” She announced, going to her bathroom and closing the door.

Azriel sighed happily, waking up with her was something he dreamed rather frequently, and he hoped their relationship improved to the point that they would do this forever, he wanted to wake up to that beautiful face, trace her scar and make love to her before going out to training, he wanted to be able to bring her breakfast in bed and always see that beautiful smile across her face.

He got up, opening the door and poking his head out, looking at both sides before he sneaked out, just to bump in none other than Elain. He scratched his head, feeling a bit embarrassed as she looked at him up and down. He opened his mouth to say anything but he was interrupted by Lucien coming out of her room as well. The three stood there, facing each other in silence.

It was Elain who started to laugh, her airy giggles filling the hallway, prompting the two males to laugh too.

“Now that’s embarrassing.” She said, and Lucien walked closer to her, his hand brushing hers.

“I have to say that the Mother indeed has a good sense of humour.” Azriel said, eyeing the couple. “But I’m glad things worked out for you two.” Lucien relaxed at that.

“Same Az, same.” She replied, before grabbing Lucien’s hand and walking towards the dining room. Azriel entered his chambers, locking the door behind him, laughing to himself.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Azriel, huh?” Lucien said, he watched as she tied her bags across the saddle of Meraxes, offering to take their clothes for them.

“What?” She yelled from up there.

“Saw him leaving your room this morning.” Lucien laughed.

“When you left Elain’s room?” She quipped, making the male blush.

“I took her home yesterday, she said she wanted to talk.” Lucien scratched his head. “We talked almost all night, she opened her heart and I opened mine, we’re ready to start again, courting each other the right way.”

Lucien held his bag above his head, throwing it to her open hands, she clutched it, tying against her own bag. Sliding down the wyvern’s leg, she wiped the sweat out of her forehead.

“We talked too, after last night I couldn’t stand being alone.” She said, patting Meraxes on the nose and walking with Lucien back to the house, Azriel’s bag already up there.

“I’m glad things are going great.” He pulled her closer by the shoulders and she rested her head against him with a smile. “We deserve it.”

“We definitely do.” She agreed, and the two parted ways. Nesta had called her for training later that day, since Gwyn had morning duties and couldn’t attend.

So she followed to the training ring she went to last time. Nesta and the females greeted her, and they started to train, with basic exercises to prepare their muscles first, then hand in hand combat.

Nesta paired up with her, they bowed to each other in respect before assuming their fighting positions. The two circled each other, studying their movements and looking for any breach so they could attack.

Y/N noticed the opening in her left flank and the smugness on Nesta’s face, and she knew it was on purpose, aiming there before she crouched, spinning and hitting Nesta’s legs with her own, sending the female stumbling down on her back. Nesta gasped as the air was knocked out of her lungs, jumping until she was back on her feet, lunging for the female.

Her fist hit the side of her ribs, making her groan and punch her hands away from her body. Nesta grabbed her by the neck, prompting Y/N to sneak her arms from under Nesta’s, forcing her to let go of her neck, she forced Nesta down, her stomach colliding against her raised knee.

A punch to Y/N’s face, making the skin go purple immediately. The two kept going at each other's throat, Y/N would never go easy on her because she respected Nesta as a warrior, and she was glad Nesta was doing the same to her, putting all of her efforts in trying to win the sparring match.

Twenty minutes later, blood and sweat mixed as the two kept landing blow after blow. She was getting tired, so she wrapped her legs around Nesta’s torso, pulling her down with her, locking her arm in a breaking grip. Nesta groaned trying to free herself but Y/N gripped her harder, not allowing her to.

“Tap out.” She ordered and Nesta huffed, tapping her leg three times, Y/N let her go, getting up and helping Nesta back to her feet. “It was a good match.”

“You’re very good, you should join us more often.” Nesta offered, smiling at the female and Y/N nodded.

“Let’s think about it.” She said, wiping the sweat off her forehead with a cloth Emerie offered her. She stayed with them, eating sandwiches and drinking cold tea by the sparring ring.

The females sat together, laughing and talking about training, some more shy than others, just nodding and not actually talking. Nesta noticed how Y/N looked at them, slowly sliding until she was sat by her back, Y/N turned her head, looking at Nesta with only one eye open.

“They come from the library, each female there has a tragic story and that is their safe space. I convinced them to train so they would never be vulnerable again.” She whispered and Y/N nodded, she had no idea.

“That’s really nice of you, giving them a second chance.” She smiled.

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” Nesta had a distant look on her face, and Y/N remembered the story Nesta had told her.

“I’m glad it’s you then, they have a lot to learn from you.” Nesta rested her head against her back, feeling happiness settle in her heart, the only one that had appreciated and supported her like this besides her Valkyries, was Cassian. It was a nice feeling having someone complimenting and being proud of her like this.

As the females left the ring to go back to their lives, Nesta guided Y/N back inside, pulling her towards her bathroom, where she forced her to sit on the sink counter while she cleaned her wounds, they looked worse than hers. She healed slower after all. Nesta cleaned the blue blood smeared across her face, and then pulled out a little bottle from inside the cabinet.

“For the swell of your eye.” She handed the potion, watching Y/N dump it in one strike. “I don’t want Azriel pestering me about it.”

“He wouldn’t.” Y/N reassured, feeling her eye starting to open little by little, soon only the purple marks would remain.

“He cares a lot about you, of course he would.” Nesta jokes, getting away from her and starting to clean her own face.

“You think so?” She shyly asked, getting out of the sink.

“Yeah, I do.” The female replied, and Y/N nodded.

“Thank you for the potion.” She said, hearing Nesta hum in agreement as she exited the bathroom and went towards her own room to have a shower.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

They sat there, having dinner. Y/N had spent the rest of her day reading the diary Morrigan had found, it talked about old gods and how they got to Prythian. They would travel all night and stay at the manor Lucien lived with his friends. Despite taking her bags for him, he would winnow first, to prepare the house for them, while Y/N took Azriel on Meraxes with her.

She kept quiet, still a bit uncomfortable with the pity stares the inner circle directed at her, especially Feyre. She tried to ignore but it was hard, so she just sat there in silence, eating her food and drinking her blood that Amren had provided for her again, in a way to comfort her for what she had seen yesterday.

“Are you ready to go?” Azriel asked as he noticed her empty plate.

“Just need to grab something.” She said, excusing herself and walking back to her room, to brush her teeth and get her sword. After she was done, she got back to the dining room, where everyone shared their goodbyes to them.

“Please come back to us.” Feyre begged as she hugged Y/N, the female swallowed the lump on her throat at the sight of the teary eyed high lady.

“I will.” She promised, parting their hug and going to another pair of arms, one by one, they hugged her like she was never going to be back. They enjoyed having her around and despite wanting to help her to go back, they didn’t really want her to be gone from their lives.

“Let’s go.” Azriel urged, pulling her by the hand towards the balcony Meraxes waited. It felt weird flying with something else that it wasn’t his own wings, but the distance he would take days to achieve, Meraxes could in hours.

So Azriel shut his mouth, hugging her waist as he sat behind her, a belt steadying him into place. Meraxes started to fly and it felt so different, the winds were stronger and he was faster.

“Do you remember the way?” She mocked, sensing the tense male behind her.

“Just go in a straight line and we’ll be fine.” He said above the sound of the wind.

“Hear that boy?” She asked Meraxes. “Let’s go then.” The winds intensified as the wyvern beat his wings faster, soaring over the city and towards the Band of Exiles home, where they would stay and watch Koschei closely.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We’re just a day away from the house.” Azriel said looking at the map, they had stopped in a hidden place around the Spring Court border. Since she refused to leave Meraxes behind, they could only travel at night to keep him hidden from curious eyes.

“Great.” She said finishing with the sheep she was feeding the wyvern. Azriel had flown to a nearby city to get two of them for Meraxes, Lucien had guaranteed he would have enough to feed him for as long as they needed to stay.

Meraxes loudly burped after he finished his meal, receiving an incredulous glare from Azriel and a scoff from his rider. “You’re so nasty.” She had said, just to be rudely pushed by his nose, making her lose balance and fall on her ass. Azriel started to laugh, receiving another scoff from her.

“Keep laughing and I’ll keep the tent just for myself.” She threatened and he lifted his hands in surrender.

“I won’t.” He promised, and she got up, her hands dirty as she groaned. “There’s a lake nearby if you want to clean yourself.” She started to roam around her things, pulling a pair of lighter clothes and a towel.

“Be right back.” She said, turning her back to him and swaying her hips away towards the lake.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She had left for at least 20 minutes, and Azriel was starting to get worried, he shared a look with Meraxes and the thing nodded, like he understood that he should keep guard while Azriel searched for her.

He walked towards the lake, finding her discarded clothes both dirty and clean by the shore. He couldn’t spot her on the lake either. So he followed the wet trail that led him towards the closed parts of the woods.

He found her there, drenched and coated in blood. Her sword hanging from her hand, and laying limply by her side, was Azriel. He looked at her and at himself laying there, with an open neck and blood pouring out of the wound.

“You appeared out of nowhere, saying that you had something you wanted to tell me.” She started, and Azriel looked at her again, swallowing as he took in her naked form? Blood coated her full breasts, her soft waist and the lower parts of her body like she had bathed in it. “When I got here you tried to fucking kill me.” She gritted her teeth, and Azriel slowly got closer to her.

“That was a Puca, they create illusions to try and lure people.” He grabbed her hand and she flinched. He slowly pulled her hand up, above his heart. “See? It’s beating, I’m real.” She looked at him. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He kept looking at her eyes to avoid looking down.

She quietly followed him, going to the lake as Azriel discarded his own clothes, going after her to help her clean. He pulled her close by the waist, the water above her shoulders, not dark enough to hide her frame from his curious eyes.

“I thought it was you.” She said quietly.

“It’s okay, I’m here now.” He pulled her chin up, eyes drifting to her lips as a thought crossed his mind.

Puca’s assumed the form of what the person desired most to lull them and kill them after. His dead body replayed itself in his mind, meaning that the Puca knew this was the only way to convince her to go with him.

With that in mind, Azriel lowered his head, capturing her lips in a kiss.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #moonlightazriel #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #worlds apart fic

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her-devils-advocate · 2 days

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To the dark I said pour and forgot to say when

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

summary: It's starting to become too much for you, training the recruits just to watch them die. You take pride in your position within the scouts, but pride can't suffocate the growing guilt. Luckily, Levi is there to help pull you together.

warning: mentions of overthinking, anxiety, and breakdowns

@humanitys-strongest-bamf, since you wanted to be tagged once it was finished! <3 Hope it's still okay to tag you in!

word count: 2,491

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55262311

It had been a while since he had seen you, not since earlier that morning on the training grounds. You had asked if he could take over training the recruits for you, the cold and crisp morning air had felt unusually tense when you approached him, almost as if he could sense the war raging behind your eyes.

You hate having to pass up duties like that, guilt tearing you apart as you think of the long list of responsibilities that he's had to put aside for you. Not to mention that you enjoy training the cadets. You enjoy watching them grow stronger each day and doing all you can to give them the best chance they can have within the Survey Corps.

Maybe that's why you passed the morning's session along to Captain Levi instead.

His piercing eyes followed your every move as you tried to act natural. Your shaking hands tightly gripping your biceps as you crossed your arms, throwing him a sweet smile while you made the request. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned the evergrowing paperwork awaiting him on his desk had shocked you, the common tease often thrown between you going unused, yet you didn’t dare question it in case it ruined your chance of shifting routines.

You simply thanked him before quickly retreating after he slowly agreed to do so, missing the way his eyebrows crinkled with unease.

You take pride in your position as one of the squad leaders within the Scouts, a position you take very seriously and have worked hard to achieve. While you know better by now, you can’t help but get attached to the people under your command. How could you not with so many different and young personalities looking up to you for guidance? You care for them and want to see them thrive.

Yet each new attachment brings a fresh crack in your heart whenever a mission goes badly. No amount of training or lectures can prevent the inevitability of the world you live in; while you wish for the best when it comes to your cadets, sometimes the world wishes otherwise.

The world is cruel and the titans are merciless.

You have lost many soldiers under your command, some of whom you consider friends. You still see their faces when you try to close your eyes, guilt flooding through you whenever you realise you have forgotten a name. You can’t remember the last time you slept the whole night instead of being haunted by the suffocating past.

How can you train these fresh faces when you have so many to remember already?

Are you even capable of training them after losing so many?

What gives you the right to survive after so many have fallen?

The thoughts are relentless as you rush into your room, you slam the door shut behind you before diving into the worn mattress on the bed. The familiar sting of tears is the only warning you get before the dam breaks and all the unwanted feelings you had bottled up begin to rush down your cheeks.

You push your face deeper into the pillow, wishing that the thin fabric would drown out the thoughts rattling around your skull. You feel miserable as your mind torments you relentlessly and a part of you feels bitter that it couldn’t wait until nightfall before starting its assault. Your mind couldn’t even give you the decency of letting you hide your shame in the shadows.

The golden rays of sunlight flowing in through the window taunt you, giving the room a peaceful haze and ignoring the despair within. You stare up at the soft light, the river of tears silently flowing down your cheeks and onto the pillow, as you simply watch the silver specs of dust float around you.

Your tears grow and your breathing quickens, how dare you appreciate such a sight when so many you care for are now unable to?

You weakly hit the pillow, as if you could transfer the thoughts out of your mind and into its damp cotton prison instead.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but from the busy commotion echoing around the headquarters, you can guess that training has since finished. You’re not surprised when Levi eventually finds you, although you hate him seeing you like this.

He slowly walks over to you, and the sight of your tear-soaked pillow causes his heart to clench. He had a feeling something was off when you had spoken to him and he regrets not stopping you and asking then and there.

"Hey, talk to me."

Levi's voice is unusually soft as he takes in your red-rimmed eyes, slightly swollen from the hours spent crying. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern as he reaches his arm out, hovering just above your shoulder, almost as if he's conflicted on whether he should touch you or not in your current state. He quickly makes up his mind as he gives it a comforting squeeze. You timidly look up at him, finally meeting his gaze. Even through the blur of tears, you can see the worry on his face as his usual mask of composure slips.

"You'll think I'm pathetic." You say quietly. If it were anyone else, you would have ushered them out of the room by now, content to be left alone to drown in your self-doubts. If it were anyone else, it would have been an order, but it just had to be one of the few members ranking higher than you who had come to check up on you.

If you were in any other mood, you might have tried to jokingly order him away, teasing him with his rank in a way you know he pretends to hate. Instead, you simply sigh. You know he’s unlikely to drop the subject when it involves you, even more so when he’s concerned. And as much as you hate to admit it, you’ve given him multiple reasons to be.

"I won't."

The sincerity of his voice makes you freeze momentarily, part of you would be fine with him shrugging and walking away, silently agreeing and leaving you alone to deal with it. It would sting, giving you yet another thing to overthink once you get through the current bout of thoughts. Not that he would leave you in such a state, but at least that way you wouldn't have to bear the heart you dedicated with all the current cracks on display.

"You should."

"I won't. Don’t tell me how I should feel." His voice takes on a stern edge, the tone softened by the grip on your shoulder tightening before he kneels on the floor before you. His eyes are determined, unwilling to let you bottle it up, much like how he would. A habit of his that he would rather keep to himself than share, for your wellbeing.

You groan, digging the heels of your hands against your swollen eyes, trying to wipe away what remains of your tears. You take a few seconds to compose yourself and to try and quiet the whirlwind in your mind, just enough to vocalise your distress. You can feel Levi’s steel eyes following every little move you make, almost as if staring hard enough would unlock all the answers for him. “If only that would work,” you think dejectedly.

“It was just too much.” The words come out as a small whisper against your wrist. You can almost hear his mind working to connect the pieces.

“It’s just one of those days, I guess. You know the ones where you wake up and everything just feels…wrong? Then I took one look at the recruits waiting for me to train them and remembered all the other recruits that I had failed.”

His gaze softens as he takes your hands, pulling them away from your face and forcing you to look at him. Gone is the aloof and somewhat intimidating captain that the Scouts have come to know. Before you is the man behind the title of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, the side of him that only a select few get to see.

“That’s not your fault, not now, not ever. You can’t control everything that happens when we leave the Walls and I know that you know that.” He releases one of your hands so that he can gently grip your chin, tilting your head down to look him in the eyes.

Pure determination and understanding swim within the sea of silver that stares up at you. You want to hide from his gaze, feeling undeserving of it, yet his soft hand keeps you firmly in place.

“I’m not going to bullshit you and say that all the kids we’re training won’t drop like flies in a mission one day, and frankly if you wanted to hear that, you would have gone to someone else.”

“Technically, you came to me.”

The slight twitch of his eyes almost makes the corner of your lips lift.

“What I’m trying to say before you interrupt me again, is that what we can do is our damn best to prepare them. I’ve seen how you train them and it’s impressive. You have a talent when it comes to getting the brats to pay attention. We know the risks, as do they, but at least you are giving them the best fighting chance they can get. Got it?”

You stall for a moment, mind peacefully going blank at his words. You know he struggles to show the emotions he had buried deep below the wings of freedom adorning the breast of his uniform, but seeing him try for your sake causes a new lump to form in your throat.

Your silence tests his short patience and he gently tugs your chin, almost as if trying to force you to nod and accept his words. You fight the urge to jump into his arms, squeezing him tight in response. Instead, you clear your throat to try and dislodge the emotions building up.

“Got it, and you’re right. I’m sorry for being so pathetic. I know we can’t save everyone and that it’s a naive dream in the first place, which is why I always do my best to train them as much as I can.” You give him a watery smile, blinking rapidly to prevent the new wave of tears from escaping.

“I think everything I was trying to bottle up slipped out over time and snuck up on me today. Thank you, Levi.”

You receive an eye-roll in response, yet you don’t miss the way his shoulders relax, the one hand still holding onto yours giving you a warm and reassuring squeeze.

“Good. I don’t think those kids would have lasted this long if it weren’t for the rigorous training you’ve put them through.” Levi’s voice is low as he considers his words.

“Don’t forget that and don’t let this,” he gives your forehead a light flick as if to emphasise his point, “make you its prisoner. Overthinking like this will never do you any good, trust me. If you want to talk, you know where my office is. It’s not like you don’t already waste my time chatting my ear off about four-eyes’ shitty experiments or anything.

This time, you can’t hold back as a few tears begin to slide down your flushed cheeks, betrayed by the warm relief spreading through you. You scramble to wipe them away, having cried enough for the evening and maybe even a lifetime now.

“That will be twenty extra laps around the training grounds, by the way.”

You can hear the amusement in Levi’s voice, yet his face remains passive as he watches for your reaction. You throw him a glare as his eyes crinkle, clearly happy with the response he has gotten. Your self-doubts and tormenting thoughts are now a thing of the past with his subtle distractions, something you slowly realise was his plan all along. If annoying someone out of their misery was a sport, you figure Levi would have dozens of gold medals by now.

“Why? Is this for getting you to train my squad earlier?” Your voice is raised in pitch, the confusion evident as you cross your arms.

“No, that’s for calling yourself pathetic in my presence. Twice.”

“I’m learning to make sure you’re not in range when I do so.” You mumble, unaware that the man before you has caught your private words.

Now it’s Levi’s turn to fix you with a glare of his own, clearly not amused with the idea. You begin to fidget under the silence, wondering if you had taken it too far, too soon. Before your still anxious mind can replay the last minute, he flicks your forehead again, harder than before.

“That's thirty laps now. I’ll make it fifty if I hear a single complaint.”

You release a dramatic sigh, showing your displeasure with the command without digging a deeper hole for yourself so soon. You anxiously break eye contact, earning a small eyebrow raise in response as you fiddle with the frayed blanket beside you.

“I’ve changed my mind,” his gruff voice cuts through the silence that fell between you, catching your nervous attention once more.

“Sixty.”

“By the walls, Levi. Stop making it higher, I’m not going to complain!” You throw your hands into your lap in exhaustion, your previous breakdown having sapped any strength you had for the day.

“I just… I wanted to thank you again, for checking up on me and for making me feel better.”

He clicks his tongue in response, his hand coming up to ruffle your hair, before giving one of the strands a playful tug. You groan at the action, playfully swatting him away while rolling your eyes.

“If you want to thank me properly, then you can go and make us some tea for the evening. Bring it to my office once you’re done. Bring a book as well, I need to finish this paperwork tonight and I don’t care for whatever trouble Hange has recently caused.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” You give him a lighthearted salute before rushing to the door, not even trying to hide the excitement at the idea of spending the evening curled up in his office, drifting off to the sound of his pen gliding across paper.

Once you reach the door, his low voice catches your attention once more, rooting you in place. “Oi, I mean it.”

“What? The stupid amount of laps you will throw on me if you hear me complaining?”

“Tch, not that. I meant it when I said you could come to me. Now don’t you have tea to be making?”

You hold back a retort, feeling too happy to bicker with him, even in a playful manner. Instead, you simply nod before silently moving towards the kitchen, your heart feeling lighter than it has in months.

#♥. writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman x you #captain levi #aot levi #captain levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #snk #this took longer than i thought considering its the 2nd levi fic i started #only to end up being the 5th one posted

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liketwoswansinbalance · 2 days

Note

What if Rafal couldn't save Rhian in time? Like Vulcan successfully stabbed him with the pen before Rafal could prevent it?

The comedic answer is that I have one word for you: gibbeting.

That's the more "fun" answer, a form of medieval execution/torture, which was specifically intended to make an example of someone, publicly, to deter further criminal acts, and if Vulcan murdered Rhian, well, he deserves the worst death possible! And why not make it a creative one? However, I think, to an extent, that gibbeting could be too extreme, and that Rafal would recognize that if Rhian were alive, he'd view it as an eyesore, tasteless, or simply too brutal, so it's probably unlikely to happen. But, Rafal might not be above it, considering that the Doom Room exists, so it could go either way, potentially.

Plus, there's some added, bonus "fun" here, in how a certain canon moment would come full circle. Vulcan put Rafal in a birdcage (while he was a black sparrow), and now, Rafal would get the pleasure of hanging Vulcan (or rather, his slowly dying and later, decomposing body) up in a cage, a pretty neat form of revenge, if I do say so myself, haha! Besides, Vulcan was a bit exhibitionistic, wasn't he? So, this would also make for an ironical fate.

⸻

Now for the serious answer. I hope you don't mind it if I get a little more subjective/personal with this one at some point. It's not quite as much an overblown, narrative-style post, and may be more understated than usual.

I took this "what if" ask to essentially mean: how would Rafal react to Rhian's death and how would he mourn Rhian over time? If I misinterpreted your ask, and this wasn't the kind of response you were expecting, please let me know. Also, everything is speculative, of course, so take my interpretations with a grain of salt. I'm open to hearing other opinions!

I think Rafal's immediate, knee-jerk reaction would probably be to murder Vulcan as revenge, but also it would serve the more practical reason of disposing of the tyrant usurper, ousting him from the School permanently. However, I don't think Rafal would find catharsis in it, not this time at least, considering why he is doing it.

He'd have to act on his feet, and quickly, because, Vulcan would still pose a threat to his own life, which would force Rafal to delay any kind of visceral, emotional reaction.

That is why I think the murder would be done instantaneously because speed is more important, and so is getting the task done right. And, having Vulcan dead sooner for everyone's safety is more important than the potential brutality of any kind of gruesome catharsis Rafal could derive from the act. That's why I think Rafal would go about performing this particular murder in a less sadistic fashion, for once, like how Vulcan died in canon by a stab wound, versus the time when Rafal turned Rufius to gold and shattered him, or did worse to others, generally. If Vulcan had simply been a foe who was already incapacitated, that could've given Rafal the opportunity to go for a worse form of murder, but Vulcan isn't harmless.

Thus, employing a "kinder" form of murder in this instance wouldn't be out of sympathy for Vulcan, but more so, to fulfill an urgent need. And, in some sense, the act of murder would be done out of a kind of duty to Rhian, for Rhian's sake and nothing more. I think Rafal deriving pleasure/catharsis out of this murder could possibly be a bit of a slight to Rhian's memory because this is somber business.

Then, after that adrenaline or rage-fueled clarity and the action taken, I think Rafal would next probably feel some kind of uncomprehending fog next because Rhian was suddenly ripped away from him with little warning. His supposedly immortal brother, who was supposed to be with him forever, just died. To an extent, that has to feel surreal.

The surreal feeling could start out as a detached, dissociated feeling, like the kind of out-of-body experience where you're like a third-person observer, (probably a similar feeling as a panic attack?) Like, what? What has my life become? Rhian is suddenly gone, for good.

(The revelation of Rhian's death being real could also prompt a lot of thought as to why their bond wasn't able to save or revive Rhian, and could evoke guilt.)

Once Rafal processes the implications of Rhian's death, his initial outburst could be the most, actual, unbridled emotion he lets out, at all, if ever—maybe, one raw, primal scream of agony into the ether and that’s it. (Yet, I'm also tempted to say, that's too dramatic of a reaction, even for him. As interesting as it is to go to extremes in other cases, I'm attempting to go for something closer to realism here, so bear with me.)

While there is probably a narrow chance, that under the exact, right conditions, he could be driven insane or become an extremist in some way, out of guilt or by how ridiculously unjust the whole situation would be, I think it's a little more plausible that Rafal would just bury himself in his work. He could devote his life to Evil, and still keep it in balance with Good, without Rhian there to keep him in check, even if he was more often the one to keep Rhian in check, from what we saw. (He could also become disillusioned with the world and the Pen.)

Given how I view Rafal, I think he would shut down emotionally but not functionally. He wouldn't let himself dwell on the grief for long, and he might even (irrationally) resent Rhian for dying, at first, on the surface, because he's now got twice the work. And yet, the work would be a welcome distraction from his actual grief.

Additionally, I think Rafal would become numb and immune to all emotional appeals from other people. Not even a trick like Hook reminding him of Rhian would work to convince him to change his mind that he's already made up in any future instance. He's never, never investing himself in the fate of another person again. Not when he could lose them. He just... does his job. Someone has to do it after all.

That said, I think his paranoia level would absolutely skyrocket, too, as a result of the whole Vulcan incident, and that he'd isolate himself more than he already did before.

Now comes the part where this may or may not take a weird turn, and I could be projecting with what I'm about to say, but I think I have actual reason to apply it to Rafal, purely out of thinking it could make sense for him, (as just one of the many possible ways he could take Rhian's death. Again, this is all just my speculation. I could easily be wrong, so keep that in mind.)

Ok, I'm not sure if this is a common or a weird thing to think and I had a feeling it could be controversial. Thus, I'm going to preface it with this: my intention is not to sound callous, but...

I (usually) do not miss people when they are gone. (Death is different from just absence though.)

I doubt that I "miss" people in what is the typical way, from what I have heard from others? Though, I have an explanation. Obviously, it depends, but missing others doesn't occupy my every waking thought. (And thoughts about fictional characters are a different type of thought to arise.)

I feel others' presence when they’re around, and when they’re not around, unless I'm concerned for them, I don’t exactly think about them. It's kind of "out of sight, out of mind," except for the cases in which I actually am holding something to say to them in mind for our next encounter.

I’m sorry if this is strange, but I think that’s how I operate most of the time. I don't "wait around" for people to return because I always have some thing to occupy myself with. Can anyone relate?

I suspect that the reason why is because, to me, missing someone is what I would classify as an active feeling. When someone I love is apart from me, I'm usually busy, regardless of whether they're present or not (that doesn't change), and I know that when you're busy, you don't have the time to feel, at least not active emotions. They just... don't occur to you? Or maybe they are not conscious?

Now, from my view of things, if something you feel becomes a problem, and interferes with your daily functioning or general contentment with everyday life, that could very well surface as a real reaction or outburst. But, that's an entirely different matter. I also think that I am reminded of people at times, but that I usually don't "miss" them without there being some kind of (internal or external) stimuli that causes me to think about them.

Maybe, I'm just projecting onto Rafal too much because I relate to him over other characters, and this is silly, or junk psychoanalysis, but it seemed to fit his character also???

Sometimes, I just want recognition more than I want actual companionship since I don't get lonely. I wonder what that says about me? That I'm an introvert, or lazy because relationships require regular maintenance to sustain them? I promise I'm not a misanthrope!

Ok, back to Rafal. He's sunken himself into his work and as such, he wouldn't actively miss Rhian. (If anyone would like more clarification, I'm not saying he wouldn't grieve Rhian at all. It's not that.)

And, if we're going down a more realistic than dramatic route, he wouldn’t lose his sense of self, or his mind over Rhian. Yes, not even Rhian. I think the only thing keeping him running and tethered to his life would be his commitment to the School/keeping himself alive.

What this makes me think of is how people romanticize grief or unrequited love, how they may end up looking wan and eventually wasting away (well, if we're talking about being heartsick in literary/symbolic contexts...). And, I just don't think Rafal would be the type of person to fall into some kind of "madness" or melancholic malady. Grief just wouldn’t be so debilitating or all-consuming to him because he wouldn’t let it do that to him. He wouldn’t stop eating or sleeping as I would expect these behaviors more from someone like Rhian, not him.

Similarly, he might not indulge in pleasurable things, but he’s a bit of an ascetic already anyway, so that’s that. He could potentially renounce pleasurable things in life out of mourning, in a traditional way, but I doubt that would happen either, to be honest. It probably wouldn't cross his mind. At least, it wouldn't happen on a formal, conscious level, even if he could very well deprive himself without realizing it.

I just don't think Rafal would be engulfed by grief, simply because he isn’t that much of an emotionally driven person or that vulnerable to being swept up by personal tragedy, when compared to Rhian, who's more "wild." He’d only let his grief manifest so far, assuming his emotions do still remained locked down and under his control.

So, while he may think about Rhian regularly, he might just accept the fact of Rhian's death, carry on, and not miss him because Rafal missing Rhian could (implicitly) mean becoming non-functional due to grief (or guilt) and that would be too great of a risk for Rafal to take, considering his current reality alone. Basically, to let himself wallow in those emotions would be an unnecessary "risk," from his viewpoint. That's why he might repress that reflective type of thought.

Such feelings would be too much mess or potential disorder for someone like him, especially if he realized he couldn't keep them contained, and they, as a consequence, actually jeopardized his fate or the School's, assuming the grief made him unable to perform his job properly.

(He'd probably subtly resent the Storian as well, for not preserving Rhian's life.)

Also, one small point: in canon, was his bond with Rhian really, truly all-consuming? Let's stop and ask ourselves that for a moment.

Yes, for a time, their bond may have seemed like it was priority no. 1, but Rafal was apart from Rhian for six months, and might not have consciously missed him, if it took him that long to return after getting an external reminder from his interactions with Hook. It might have taken something outside of himself (like the prophecy) for him to come to the realization that he had to return and reestablish his loyalty to Rhian (which was arguably never gone, just dormant for a while). And this would mean that if left alone to his own devices, had he never been moved by James, or "awakened" and been made aware by Adela Sader, he could have taken longer than even six months to return... if he ever decided to at all, if the thought ever arose in the first place.

So, overall, it would only be rarely, when he has nothing to occupy himself with, that Rafal would grieve in some quiet way, and over time, the grief would fade. It wouldn't leave him entirely, but it would diminish, I think, the more and more he distances himself from everything else.

Also, in canon, I suspect that he lies to himself about how much he cares for Rhian. He never shows Rhian much affection, but he sacrifices his life for him, on instinct, which probably means a grieving Rafal would also lie to himself about how “little” he mourns Rhian. In reality, he’d probably mourn Rhian a great deal more than he could know, but wouldn’t have enough self-awareness to realize it.

Perhaps, at night, he would be haunted by Rhian's memory, and take on Rhian's insomniac trait on occasion. Also, to credit @cursed-daydreamer, I think it would be plausible for Rafal to take on a few of Rhian's traits, unconsciously, to compensate for the loss, and fill his void; it could be a way of keeping Rhian's presence in his life.

Lastly, I doubt that Rafal would publicly erect monuments or dedicate anything to Rhian. He wouldn’t want a painful, visual reminder around. His rituals, if we were to call them that, any form of remembrance, I mean, would likely be private, away from prying eyes and students. Rafal wouldn't want to come across as weak or sentimental. That’s the last thing he needs at the moment, a ruined reputation, another so-called threat to his own life/power. Because, increased paranoia could lead him to believe that if he were to show any sign of vulnerability, more "Vulcans" could prey on him and the School.

He could maintain the cherry blossom trees though, but it'd always be a sobering occasion, and he'd never take the credit.

Besides that, he probably wouldn’t go eulogizing his brother or canonizing him. He can still recognize Rhian's flaws, and to praise Rhian so completely would be "too much," too public, and the performative (or contrived) nature of certain mourning customs like those would probably strike him as "wrong" because they just seem... insincere. I don't think Nevers (if we're assuming Rafal remains Evil) put as much much stock in praise anyway, according to their value system.

The exception to the rule would probably be if he recognized that it would be Rhian's wish, to receive some recognition or a dedication. Then, he would do it, out of reverence, I think. He'd have reason to "excuse" it (Rhian's dying wishes), unlike visible emotions, which don't have an excuse to be felt.

⸻

Also, I was wondering: does anyone agree or disagree? I'm really curious because this ask provoked a train of thought I'd never considered before!

#school for good and evil #rise of the school for good and evil #rafal #rafal mistral #rhian #rhian mistral #vulcan of netherwood #sge #sfgae #the school for good and evil #tsfgae #rotsge #rotsfgae #my post #ask #death #grief

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bakersimmer · 2 days

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Instead of traditional wedding vows, Martin and Laila had borrowed a few lines from an old poem that spoke of eternal love and the promise to bring peace to each other's hearts.

But there was also a cautionary note woven into this text: "They will try to the end because they have sworn so. Grant that they also wish so." It was a reminder that commitment required not just duty, but genuine desire. Lately, Martin had started questioning his vow. He struggled with uncertainty, unsure if his growing desire to let go and start anew was just a fleeting impulse or a sign that his heart and sense of duty were no longer in sync.

Martin: I'm having a really hard time understanding you and your actions. Is this your way of asking for help or getting my attention?

Laila: (whispers) Both. Martin: You have my attention; tell me what I can do to help you. Laila: Come back home. Martin: I can't do that. But. You'll continue seeing your therapist, and I'll make time to spend a few hours with you each week. Laila: (frustrated) Few hours? That's... (Martin interrupts)

Martin: That's the most I'm willing to do at the moment. Laila: (sighs) And what if this "married for a few hours a week" doesn't work? What if it drives us apart? Martin: (pauses) If it doesn't work... we shouldn't force something that isn't meant to work. Laila: (wraps her arms around Martin)

previous / beginning /

Hopefully, someday, even beyond the trials of life, they will still whisper to each other in truth, "I love you.”

#MartinsESC #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #sims story #Martin Archer #Laila Mellov #Escape23 #And that's it for now #👋🏻

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forestdeath1 · 3 days

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do you think james bullied snape because he was poor? do you think it had anything to do with classism?

Nope, I don't think so. When I first heard this version, I was really surprised. I think it comes from fanfiction? Some authors use the detail that if a child is rich, they will always bully the poor. That's not true.

We don't see any evidence that in the relationship between James+Sirius (why do they always forget about Sirius? He was very harsh verbally towards Snape and did it without much reason in his head) and Snape, there's anything related to Snape's poverty.

Here are a few reasons:

1. Sirius doesn't like the trappings of his family's wealth; he despises it. He's intentionally shown as the complete opposite of Lucius Malfoy (even their appearance, black and white, the most rebellious of purebloods and the most sycophantic, the one who values wealth and money and the one who despises it). Do you think he would love and be friends with someone who bullies others because of... money?! No way. It's actually pretty demeaning for the person themselves to brag about how much money they have. Considering how proud Sirius is, I doubt their bullying had anything to do with Snape's poverty.

And I think this Sirius's pride is partly seeded by his family. Because…

2. I think the Malfoys narratively were a bit the opposite of the Blacks in general. Their moneyed arrogance and bullying from Lucius and Draco - that's a pretty specific case, very similar to how some people think their money solves everything and defines who they are. The Malfoys are raised like that —they believe just having money makes them better than others. If we're talking about the old style upper class —it's not about thinking money makes you better, it's about how you're raised, what family you're born into, how you live, how you grow up – that's what makes you upper class, not your money. For wizards – their blood purity and loyalty to pureblood ideals. They might not even have much money, but they'd still be proud. Meanwhile, you might become rich, but you'll never become upper class. And it's pretty odd for this "class" to bully others based on money. The way the Malfoys do it is pretty crude and demeaning for themselves. In canon, it's well shown that the Malfoys are fixated on money. Whereas the Blacks aren't about money, but about their status. For the Blacks, it's all about status and primarily about blood purity. The Malfoys marry half-bloods, while the Blacks disown their children for wrong marriages.

3. I don't think wizards really have classes based on wealth.

(Also it’s pretty obvious but just in case, wizards don't have aristocracy in the traditional sense. After the introduction of the Statute of Secrecy, wizards don't have titles. Titles are purely a Muggle construct. Before the Statute, they existed, we know the Malfoys came with the Normans and were given lands. We know about the Bloody Baron. But there's no indication in canon of these aristocratic arrangements among wizards after the Statute (which, by its nature, implies service). The only lord among wizards was Voldemort. Because he called himself a lord. The fact that wizards deliberately don't use titles, even though the Malfoys had it, speaks only to one thing — the very idea of calling yourself by such titles is abhorrent to pure-blood wizards. It's a connection to Muggles and Muggle royalty. And being an aristocrat isn't just a privilege, it's also a duty.)

I think their upper class is pure-blood wizards. Their nobility is blood nobility. Their nobility was based on blood purity and loyalty to blood purity. They have a book called "Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy." So all their nobility — it's natural, inborn, blood, or rather pure-blood. But it's nowhere regulated, except in the minds of those pure-bloods. Their society is inequality in minds, where some consider themselves better than others.

Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn’t believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good.” (Professor Slughorn)

Even "not-biased" Slughorn was biased against muggleborns

They take a very harsh stance against "blood traitors". And true blood purists are much more tolerant of poverty if it's truly loyal to pureblood ideals (even families like the Gaunts). Blood is more important than money. The Black family tree has many marriages to different families, but not all of them are wealthy; it's impossible in their small society. I think, given how small wizarding society is, only three families were truly wealthy — the Blacks, the Malfoys, and the Lestranges. And I believe the Malfoys mostly gained their wealth from dealing with Muggles. Pure blood and being on the "Sacred 28" list doesn't make a family rich. Why if someone's in Slytherin, they're rich? Where did this wealth come from? In the Muggle world, this is understandable (but that's not always true either). But in the wizarding world? So it's a pretty weird trope that all Slytherins and pure-bloods are rich.

Wealth itself also doesn't make someone a member of the "upper class" in the wizarding world. No matter how wealthy you are, if you're a blood traitor or Muggle-born, then this pure-blood upper class won't accept you into their society.

Therefore, I believe bullying Snape had nothing to do with Snape being poor and classism.

There aren't that many rich people in the wizarding world.

Not everyone in Slytherin was wealthy. Their "upper class" is not related to wealth.

Sirius certainly didn't show any interest in wealth or judging people based on their money. The Blacks probably thought their blood was more important than any money.

James didn't show that either. Remus and Peter probably weren't rich, and they all got along fine.

All we know about James and his attitude towards money is this:

James was amused by Vernon, and made the mistake of showing it. Vernon tried to patronise James, asking what car he drove. James described his racing broom. Vernon supposed out loud that wizards had to live on unemployment benefit. James explained about Gringotts, and the fortune his parents had saved there, in solid gold. Vernon could not tell whether he was being made fun of or not, and grew angry.

I don't see anything here that suggests James was intentionally trying to flaunt his wealth. It was a response to Vernon's assumption that they live on benefits. That wasn’t bullying. Sirius would hardly have said so, but James obviously didn't think talking about money was something embarrassing. But it's not bullying.

#sirius black #james potter #hp meta #sirius black meta #james potter meta #the noble and most ancient house of black #pureblood society

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fanficapologist · 1 day

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Of Dragons and Maelstroms: Aemond POV

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Six

The Gods had a plan, that much was clear. He always knew there was more to him. More than just a second son, more than a scholar or a swordsman. From his blood would come the King of Kings, who would take over the world even more so than Aegon the Conqueror. Yet he knew the Gods would not simply grant him this honour, Aemond thought. No, they sought to test him, to put him on trial to see if he was worthy. And what better way to do so than to bind him to a person he could not stand?

Aemond was a devout follower of the Seven, his mother had ensured it. Dragons may have made the Targaryen’s Kings but there was a higher power all men must answer to, be they peasants or Princes. He would trust the Gods judgement for what they had in store for him, yet he yearned for their guidance in the face of adversity. The moment he returned to Kings Landing, he first visited the Sept, looking for answers. In the dark and stoney building, where the scent of incense filled the air, Aemond kneeled before an altar and lit a few candles.

To the Father, he prayed for strength to fulfill his duty, to uphold the legacy of House Targaryen, even in the face of personal anguish and resentment. To the Mother, he asked for patience and understanding as he embarked on the path set out for him. To the Maiden, Aemond pleaded for purity of intention, to be able to cast aside past turmoil in order for the marriage to bear fruit. When beseeching his chosen god, the Warrior, he asked for courage and valor, praying for the bravery to face the challenges ahead with steadfast resolve, even in the face of his own doubts and fears.

To the Smith, he prayed to be forged with resilience and fortitude, that he may withstand the trials and tribulations of a marriage born not of love but of necessity, and that he would be able serve the Realm justly. Aemond asked for the Crone to illuminate the path before him with her wisdom, that he may discern the lessons to be learned from this unexpected turn of fate, and that he may navigate the complexities of his future with clarity and insight. And finally, to the Stranger, he begged for guidance through the shadows of doubt and uncertainty, that he may emerge on the other side with acceptance and peace.

The Prince knew finding contentment with his great future, mapped out by the Gods themselves, would be easier some days compared to others. One such day that seemed easier was when he arrived back at the Keep and saw his sister, Queen Helaena, his nephews and niece, and Maera, laughing in the gardens. The lush greenery of the gardens provided a picturesque backdrop, with vibrant flowers blooming and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze lending a tranquil atmosphere.

Maera’s animated gestures and bright smile captivated Aemond’s attention, momentarily thawing the icy disdain between them. Despite their turbulent history, seeing Maera engrossed in conversation with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera stirred a small sense of warmth within Aemond. It seemed as though Maera was regaling the children with a captivating tale, her enthusiasm infectious and drawing genuine smiles from the young prince and princess.

As Aemond leaned against the cool marble pillar, his mind was consumed with conflicting thoughts and emotions. Despite his deep-seated disdain for Maera, he couldn't deny her natural affinity with children. Growing up in a House teeming with siblings, Maera's nurturing instinct seemed innate, effortlessly drawing the royal children to her side. It was no wonder they were captivated by her presence.

In his mind's eye, Aemond envisioned a future where Maera stood as a mother to their own offspring, silver-haired children destined to leave an indelible mark on the world. Though he harbored no affection for Maera, he couldn't deny the image of her nurturing her own children with unwavering love and dedication.

As he grappled with the realization of their intertwined fate, Aemond felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Their mutual disdain for each other seemed insurmountable, yet the prophecy foretold a future where their bloodline would shape the course of history. Despite the tumultuous journey that lay ahead, Aemond resolved to endure, accepting the weight of his destiny bound to Maera.

As Jaehaerys and Jaehaera rushed to greet him, their youthful enthusiasm brought a fleeting smile to Aemond’s lips. Their innocent energy provided a brief respite from the tension that lingered between him and Maera. Yet, as the Lady approached, her gaze locked onto his single violet eye, and Aemond couldn’t help but feel a sense of uneasy truce settle between them for the moment, if only for the sake of the children.

After the initial greetings, Jaehaera turned to Aemond with a serious expression. "Are female warriors as fierce as men, Kepus?”

Maera interjected before the one-eyed Prince could reply to his niece. "Absolutely, they are,” she declared firmly.

Aemond couldn’t help but smirk when he questioned her, watching the way Maera’s face scrunched up in annoyance, yet her eyebrows raised in intrigue, almost as if she was trying to hide the fact she too enjoyed the thrill of a challenge.

"Join me for training tomorrow in the courtyard, just like old times. I will fight for the young Prince and you can fight for Princess Jaehaera,” he requested as Maera folded her arms across her chest and furrowed her brow. Aemond would hate to admit it, but he was hoping with all his being that she would say yes.

Eventually she dropped arms and with a sigh, a small smile graced her face. “How could I refuse?” Maera replied, looking at the smiles beaming on the twins faces.

Aemond’s interest was piqued, and he couldn’t deny the allure of facing off against her in combat. The Gods may have bound them together, but Aemond refused to accept a weak partner. If Maera claimed to practice often, her skill with the sword must be honed and formidable.

And how delighted Aemond was to be right. A day later, as the Prince was practising with the Lord Commander, a sharp dagger flying through the air and hitting one of the straw dummies caught the crowd’s attention. Clad in a blue tunic and brown leather vest and trousers, she cut a striking figure, her brown and silver locks braided away from her face to accentuate her piercing forest green eyes.

Despite the intensity of his own practice, Aemond couldn’t help but steal glances in Maera’s direction. From the corner of his eye, he observed her swift movements as she engaged with the three squires the Lord Commander had assigned to her. With each clash of blades, Maera displayed a fierce determination that Aemond couldn’t help but begrudgingly admire. Amidst the clang of steel and the grunts of exertion, Aemond recognised Maera’s tenacity and skill on the training grounds as she beat all three men.

When the time finally came for the one-eyed Prince to spar with the Lady, their movements seemed to flow seamlessly, like dancers gliding across a ballroom floor. Their swords clashed with precision and grace, each strike and parry executed with fluidity and finesse. Their footwork was agile and precise, reminiscent of a choreographed dance, as they circled each other with a grace that belied the intensity of their duel. Their swords sang through the air as they hit each other, creating a mesmerizing rhythm that echoed throughout the courtyard. It almost came across as romantic.

As they continued their spar, Aemond felt a surge of exhilaration coursing through him. It was as if a piece of his old self, the youthful and carefree young boy of years past, was resurfacing amidst the intensity of their duel. Despite the weight of his responsibilities and the burdens of his past, in this moment, he felt alive, relishing the thrill of the fight. However, despite the Lady’s prowess, he sensed a momentary lapse in her focus. It was a familiar trait from their childhood days, one that he knew how to exploit.

With a calculated strike, Aemond breached Maera’s defense, his sword finding its mark and leaving a gash across her chest. He observed her wince, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that fueled his determination. seizing the opportunity, he delivered a swift kick, sending Maera crashing to the ground.With Maera lying beneath him, Aemond swiftly straddled her hips, his weight pressing down as he pinned her to the ground. His sword hovered dangerously close to her throat, a silent threat that demanded her submission.

Holding her in place, Aemond took in the sight before him. Maera's face flushed with exertion, beads of sweat glistening on her brow as she breathed deeply. Strands of her brown and silver hair had escaped their braid, framing her face in a wild halo. Her blue tunic bore the marks of their spar, torn and stained with blood from where his blade had struck her, revealing glimpses of her heaving chest beneath.

The Prince’s mind wandered as his breathing fell into a rhythm with hers. There was a strange and unsettling beauty in seeing her in such a vulnerable position, beneath him, her power stripped away. It was an intoxicating sensation, one that made his heart race and sent shivers down his spine. It was like a drug, addicting and irresistible.

When Maera finally yielded, Aemond smirked in victory, relishing in her admission of defeat. He knew how stubborn she could be, and forcing her to submit must have been a bitter pill for her to swallow. But oh, how he reveled in making her feel that pain.

That evening he could not help but stroke his cock to the sheer image of her defeated body beneath him, grunting softly as he slid his hand up and down repeatedly. His face twisted in pleasure as his mouth fell open, picturing her heaving breasts, her reddened face, her intense green-eyed stare before releasing into his hand. The image of her swollen with his child, the continuation of his bloodline foretold by the Gods, was enough to make him hard once more. And it made him angry, reminding him of the night of Aegon and Helaena’s wedding, when he desperately sought relief by his own hand because of Maera.

The Prince vowed not lose himself to depravity. He wanted to maintain some form of control, and whilst he knew Maera was a key part of his future, he would not allow himself to become ensnared by her. Not her beauty, not her wit, not her skill with the sword. He needed to remain sharp of mind, so he occupied himself with his duties, just as he always had. The dutiful son of House Targaryen.

For weeks he patrolled the Reach, Riverlands, and Westerlands tirelessly, his presence a looming shadow over the lands he traversed. He made it a point to liaise with the High Lords of each region, maintaining alliances and ensuring their unwavering loyalty to his brother, Aegon. Aemond’s commanding presence and diplomatic skills proved invaluable as he navigated the complex web of politics and power dynamics that governed each territory.

In addition to his diplomatic efforts, Aemond diligently sent ravens bearing news and requests back to the Capital, keeping his brother informed and up to date on the latest developments across the realm. His dedication to his duties served as both a distraction from his inner turmoil and a testament to his loyalty to the crown.

Yet he could not get returning to Kings Landing out of his mind. To face off against Maera once more brought him a strange excitement. The last time he saw her was the night the blue and black dragon landed on the beach—a moment that felt like an omen from the Gods, occurring as Aemond and Maera stood together, gazing up into the night sky.

During that encounter, Aemond took a perverse pleasure in verbally tormenting her. She stood before him in a thin cotton nightgown and robe, her curves accentuated beneath the white fabric, squirming uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Bandages adorned her chest, evidence of the wound Aemond had inflicted upon her during their sparring match.

And how he so looked forward to their fights continuing once he returned. In their battles of wit, the Prince found a peculiar joy—a satisfaction derived from the sharpening of his intellect and the thrill of outmaneuvering his opponent. With every exchange, he revelled in his victories, savoring each triumphant moment while carefully analyzing his missteps, always striving to improve his skills.

Beneath the surface of his desire for intellectual supremacy lay a deeper, more primal urge. He yearned for dominance over Maera in every facet of their interactions. He longed to exert control over her, to make her feel small and insignificant in his presence—a fitting retribution for what he perceived as her betrayal and the bewildering effect she had on his emotions. For Aemond, the prospect of facing Maera once again was not just an opportunity for verbal sparring; it was a chance to assert his power and assert his dominance over the woman who had unsettled him like no other.

One stormy day upon his return to the Red Keep, he intended to find his mother and sister. His usually sleek and straight white hair now clung to his face and neck, dampened by the relentless downpour outside, its ends curling slightly from the moisture.

Upon arriving at his mother's chambers, Aemond found them empty, devoid of the usual warmth and presence that he associated with her. Instead, he was directed by the guards stationed at the door to his sister Helaena's rooms. With a nod of acknowledgment, he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors.

As Aemond entered his sister Helaena's chambers, he found his mother, the dowager-queen Alicent, seated by the window, her expression fraught with concern as she watched the maids help her daughter out of the bath. The tension in her shoulders seemed to dissolve as Alicent’s gaze fell upon her second son, relief washing over her features.

“Mother…” Aemond began, concern etched into his expression. Before Aemond could utter another word, Alicent enveloped him in a tight embrace. Despite his usual reserve, he returned the gesture, his arms encircling her form.

When Alicent finally pulled away, she brushed a tear from her brown eye, managing a smile. “It’s fine, Aemond, we’re fine.”

Aemond’s gaze drifted to Helaena, now clad in her nightgown holding a millipede in her palm, her wet hair being gently combed by the maids. She seemed content in her own little world. “What happened?” Aemond inquired, his voice tinged with concern.

Alicent’s gaze turned towards her daughter, sadness clouding her features. “She’d been unsettled all afternoon,” Alicent began, her voice soft, laden with worry. “She asked to go outside for some air, and then we couldn’t coax her back in during the storm. She was hysterical.”

Aemond, standing by the door, felt a weight settle in his chest. Guilt tugged at him for not being there for his mother and sister in their time of need. Aegon, his elder brother, had once again proved of little assistance, and Aemond regretted being away from the Keep to attend to his duties, knowing his closer bond with Helaena could have offered solace.

His one-eyed gaze lingered on Helaena as she delicately lifted a millipede to her face, her expression serene yet distant. Their violet eyes met briefly, and she uttered cryptic words, her voice soft and ethereal. “It is not blind but it does not see.”

His brow furrowed in confusion at her enigmatic remark, but before he could inquire further, Alicent gently guided their attention back to her.

“Then Maera came,” Alicent continued, her tone tinged with a sense of relief. “And, well… they have always shared an unspoken bond.”

Aemond couldn’t help but feel a mixture of gratitude and frustration towards his foe. While he harbored resentment towards her, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt knowing that Helaena had been spared the anguish of being restrained or further distress, a testament to the calming influence that Maera seemed to possess. No one could reach Helaena like she could.

Lord Commander Criston Cole had taught the a prince that sometimes a truce was better than losing when facing an enemy. Despite their mutual disdain, they were bound by the will of the Gods, a fact that Aemond couldn’t ignore. With a hum, he acknowledged that perhaps it was time to bridge the gap between them, if only to make his own life easier.

Determined to confront Lady Maera and initiate this uneasy truce, Aemond stormed to her chambers, his steps echoing with purpose down the corridor. Upon arrival, he was met by her maid, who informed him that she was currently bathing. Despite the maid’s attempts to dissuade him, Aemond insisted on having an audience with Maera, his resolve unyielding.

There was a twisted pleasure in knowing that, as a Prince of the blood, he could demand to see her whenever he pleased, a small victory that gave him a sense of power over her. He enjoyed the idea of disrupting her routine, knowing full well that it would annoy her, yet finding joy in the knowledge that he held the upper hand in this encounter.

As Aemond entered the room, his gaze immediately fell upon the wooden screen that shielded Maera as she bathed. Despite the barrier between them, he wasted no time in inquiring about his sister's well-being, his concern evident in his voice. When Maera revealed the events of the storm and her role in bringing Helaena to safety, Aemond couldn't help but begrudgingly thank her, acknowledging her efforts in preventing further distress to his sister.

Seated near the hearth in Maera's room, Aemond suppressed a chuckle at the sight of her feeble attempt to maintain her modesty behind the screen. It struck him as ridiculous, given that any semblance of reputation Maera once held had long been tarnished, and therefore there was no need to hide from him. At least that was what he told himself.

The Prince remembered Helaena’s words from her wedding day, many years ago when he walked her down the aisle. Dragon fire melts the steel to bridge the gap between sky and sea. And what better way to bond with her than sword fighting like when they were children? It took some convincing but when she finally agreed, Aemond saw it as a step towards bridging the gap between them and potentially fulfilling the prophecy foretold by the witch of Harrenhall.

As weeks went by, Aemond couldn’t deny the exhilaration he felt. Despite their differences, they each possessed unique strengths with the sword that complemented one another. Through their training, they not only honed their swordsmanship but also coached each other to improve, fostering a sense of camaraderie between them. With each passing week, Aemond sensed a small part of his childhood self resurfacing, softening the cold and hardened edges he had acquired over the years.

Yet after each session, the Prince found himself grappling with newfound confusion and inner turmoil, leaving him unsettled and frustrated. He had always prided himself on his unwavering certainty and control over his surroundings, but the shifting dynamics with Maera left him feeling adrift and uncertain. When he was with her, Aemond experienced a sense of excitement and renewal, a departure from the stoicism that had defined him for so long. He couldn’t comprehend these conflicting emotions, and they gnawed at him like a relentless fire, consuming him from within. Despite his efforts to maintain control, he found himself burning alive. Burning for her.

“She has declared herself a virgin?” The witch’s tone was cool, her eyes glinting with an unsettling knowingness as she sat at her table.

Aemond sat in the dimly lit room of Harrenhall, visiting once again to attend to his duties, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the hearth. At Alys’s question, he turned his head and furrowed his brow, his voice laced with confusion and frustration. “She did not outright declare it, but it was something she said…”

His mind took him back to a day in the Godswood, having just returned from a trip to the Westerlands. The Prince immediately spotted Maera seated beneath the towering Weirwood tree, engrossed in the pages of the Seven-Pointed Star. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently as she muttered the words to herself. Aemond couldn’t help but find the sight endearing, a stark contrast to her usual confident demeanor.

Her dark brown curls, adorned with the distinctive silver streak, cascaded around her shoulders, framing her face as she looked up from her book to meet his gaze. However, instead of the usual warmth, Aemond detected a troubled expression in her emerald eyes.

“Nyke se mandia,” I'm the eldest she said, the words heavy with emotion. "Nyke yenka emagon issare idīntan ēlī . sytiotāpagon zirȳ va skorkydoso naejot sagon sȳz ābrazȳrys se muña. Y…” I should have been married first. So I could guide them, advise them on being good wives, good mothers, on how to navigate the wedding night. But instead I…

“Why would she not defend herself? Why keep silent?” Aemond muttered, more to himself than to Alys, his thoughts swirling with unanswered questions.

Alys’s grin widened, her gaze piercing. “It’s like wine on a cotton shift; a stain not easily removed once spilled,” she remarked cryptically before shrugging. “If she refuted the claims, it would not have mattered anyway.”

Aemond shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. “If she is proved a maiden in the eyes of the court, she will be free to wed, and therefore seen as a more suitable wife for myself,” he mused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the thought of Maera as his wife, as well as the great life they would lead, if what the witch predicted was true. Quickly refocusing, he continued, “The King of Kings must come from our blood. Though coming from a minor House, her chances are still slim.”

“The scales can still be tipped in your favor, my Prince,” Alys stated calmly, rising from her chair with purpose evident in her movements. “If you'll allow me?” Aemond tilted his head, studying her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded in reluctant agreement, though his expression remained guarded.

Alys proceeded to gather ingredients from various shelves, her movements fluid and deliberate. With practiced precision, she arranged them on the table before retrieving a knife from a nearby chest.

“Your blood, my Prince,” she requested, extending her hand toward him as if it were a perfectly ordinary request.

Aemond's frown deepened, his stance rigid with discomfort. “Blood magic is blasphemous,” he protested, the weight of his upbringing and values evident in his words.

Alys met his gaze steadily, her own unwavering. “And yet the Gods demand it,” she countered, her tone firm and unwavering. Seeing his reluctance, she added, “Blood mages have ancient roots, tracing back to the days of Old Valyria. Your ancestors had no qualms practicing it.”

Aemond averted his gaze, conflicted by the truth in her words. The history of his lineage was filled with tales of ancient magic and power. Could he dismiss it so easily now, when faced with a solution to his current predicament?

Alys's voice sliced through the tense air, snapping Aemond out of his contemplations. “If you wish to conduct your investigation without my help, so be it,” she declared firmly, her cat-like eyes boring into his with unwavering determination. “But time is not on your side.”

Aemond's jaw clenched as he wrestled with his inner turmoil. He knew the urgency of the situation, the pressing need to resolve the matter swiftly. The vision of the King of Kings seemed to slip further away with each passing day, and he couldn't afford to let that happen. Maera's fate hung in the balance, and he refused to let her slip through his fingers.

With a frustrated growl, he extended his hand toward the witch, a silent acknowledgment of his reluctant acceptance. “Just see it done,” he grumbled, his voice laced with impatience and resolve.

Alys wasted no time, and with a deft slice, she pierced through the Prince's palm, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. She then positioned the mortar beneath his hand, allowing the crimson droplets to pool within its depths. Retreating slightly, Alys placed the mortar on the table before deftly adding the tea leaves. With a measured hand, she began to grind the leaves and blood together, the sound of the mortar echoing softly in the room.

Once satisfied with the mixture, the witch retrieved a pot of boiling water, her movements deliberate and precise. Pouring the steaming liquid into a cup, she added the concoction from the mortar, stirring it methodically until the contents melded into a dark, swirling brew. After a muttering of some words, Alys raised the cup to her lips and drank the potion in a single gulp.

Aemond watched the ritual unfold before him, a mix of bewilderment and revulsion churning within him. The sight of his own blood mingling with the tea leaves filled him with a sense of unease, a stark departure from the teachings of the Faith of the Seven that he had been raised with. Yet, in the face of necessity, he found himself willing to set aside his reservations, driven by a relentless determination to seek out answers and secure Maera to his side.

Once Alys finished consuming the dark concoction, she hummed softly to herself, her gaze shifting from the cup to the Prince with a focused intensity. "I see a man hanging above a maelstrom you do not know. Upon the orders of two white feathers."

Aemond's brow furrowed in frustration at the cryptic words. "Riddles will not help me," he growled, his tone laced with impatience and anger.

Undeterred, Alys pressed on, her expression unwavering. "But this might. The ship known as the Bird of Thousand Colours," she declared, her voice carrying an air of certainty. "Find records of its departure from Blackwater Bay and any passengers on board. That will lead you to finding discrepancies in the rumours and clearing the Lady’s name."

Aemond's frustration boiled over, his anger evident in the sharpness of his retort. "You are sending me off to look for ship records? How will this prove she is a maiden to the court?!" he demanded, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"I can only tell you what I see, my Prince," Alys replied calmly, her demeanor serene despite the Prince's growing agitation.

With a huff of exasperation, Aemond stormed out of the room, his rage simmering beneath the surface. He was more frustrated than ever, his mind grappling with the seemingly futile task ahead. As he left Harrenhall behind, the weight of uncertainty hung heavy on his shoulders, his thoughts consumed with the looming challenge ahead.

The prospect of embarking on what he perceived as a wild goose chase only served to stoke the flames of his anger, and he vowed that if Alys’s words proved to be false, she would pay dearly for leading him astray.

Notes: Hey! I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, my health has been really shit. So doctor now thinks it’s ME (CFS) rather than PVFS because it’s been going on for almost five months. I’ve started new meds for headaches and nausea so I’ve been a bit all over the place. Uploads might be slower than usual but I’m writing when I can. And I see your asks and messages I’ll get to them soon but thought I’d upload a chapter while I get my shit together 🖤

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon #aemond fanfic

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hestiaflames · 5 hours

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the enigma of jeremy knox

after one full read and revisiting some of my annotations (and shoutout to @andrewminyardslawyer for this collection of passages) I have attempted to collect my observations and conclusions/theories about the enigma named Jeremy Knox

please tell me your interpretations

Jeremy’s Dad

Mr. Wilshire is Jeremy’s stepfather (we know from "Bryson is in the sitting room with Mr. Wilshire" and then Jeremy referring to him as his stepfather. I was confused about this at the beginning lol)

This means that Knox is Jeremy’s dad’s name. Why doesn’t he want to be called Knox? Is it the reminder of divorce or his family drama when he’d rather not think about it?

Speaking of Jeremy’s dad: "Dad's been stationed [in Europe] a couple times". Most likely military, then. The tense (“Dad has been”) suggests that his dad is still in his life, not dead or estranged (otherwise I’d expect “Dad was stationed” instead). Unless perhaps Jeremy is going out of his way to hide it? He does avoid talking about his family, but he brings this up unprompted and I get the sense that Laila and Cat would know something that big so I don’t think this is a lie

Jeremy maintaining a relationship with his dad could certainly be a point of conflict with his stepfather and siblings, but doesn't seem to fit the "freshman year exy banquet scandal" we're catching wind of. It's possible his dad was involved, but I don't think it's where my money would go.

Jeremy’s Siblings

Cat tells Jean that Jeremy has one sister and two brothers. Twice we hear Bryson referred to as “the older brother” and Annalise as his younger sister, so the siblings are: Bryson, Jeremy, and Annalise-and-unnamed-brother-in-unknown-order.

Of course, we must address “Jeremy has–three” and Jean “idly wondering what she’d changed at the last minute and why”. It sounds like the number changed (unless I’m missing a possibility here?), so why?

Step or half siblings? There is a stepfather in the mix, so she could have increased it to include step or half siblings, but I lean towards not this. Jeremy says that “the Knox family was duty-bound to dress up and smile bright for [the] cameras”, which would be odd to say if his siblings weren’t all Knoxes. Also, Cat tells Jean this after telling him that her two oldest siblings are half siblings, so imo it would be an odd thing to hide on Jeremy’s behalf

Otherwise, I think we’re talking about a death or estrangement. The unnamed younger brother, probably (though perhaps a fourth sibling). Now this is “broke the family in half” or “destroyed the family” territory. “broke the family in half” could be a death but almost sounds more like a schism, perhaps between Dad & Unnamed Brother and the rest of the family? Or perhaps Jeremy&Dad?

Jeremy & Bryson. What is going on here?

Pretty much the first thing we learn about Jeremy is that he is avoiding his older brother, leaving without his keys to avoid the possibility of an interaction.

Jeremy says that Bryson always spends his summers at home, and also specifically says he’ll be staying at Cat & Laila’s over the summer but then only over on weekends during the school year.

The conversation he has with Lucas: “Do you feel safe with him there?” “He’s my brother” “That’s not what I asked” could be read as him being protective of his teammate, but also could be implying that Jeremy knows what it’s like to feel unsafe around his brother. Learning there have been physical altercations wouldn’t come from left field.

The Fall Banquet Exy Scandal

Speaking of breaking the family in half, what happened at this fall banquet?

Annalise says “Overdue for a new scandal… End the way you started”, so it happened his freshman year. She went out of her way to forget everything about Exy and can’t forgive Jeremy for continuing to play, so she seems to blame Exy as much as she blames Jeremy.

If it did in fact have to do with the younger brother, did he get hurt badly or die playing? If a high schooler died playing Exy three years before, would we have heard about it from Jean or Neil? Our other two narrators are not what you’d call tuned into the outside world all the time. On the other hand, yes Jeremy compartmentalizes even in his narration, but you’re telling me it never crosses his mind while playing a very rough sport if his brother was severely injured? It’s possible, but I’m not sold on this theory. It also wouldn’t explain why it’s tied specifically to the banquet.

The other thought I have is that something happened at that banquet that was some kind of PR mess. The family-in-politics obsession with being a “picture-perfect family” and Jeremy being unwelcome at dinner after bleaching his hair support this, but the Trojan reputation doesn’t. Whatever happened would have to walk the line between totally unacceptable to the family but also not a blemish on the Trojan reputation. Jeremy is made captain and Jean (who knows who he is and would be aware of a Trojan scandal even if it happened before his freshman year, since he was in the Nest and with Riko and Kevin) doesn’t know about it. Kevin is obsessed with the Trojans and with Jeremy, and Jeremy’s teammates (besides Lucas’ almost-comment about him being gay) show nothing but respect for him and his leadership.

I’ve seen speculation that it could have to do with Jeremy being gay, but this would again seem to contradict the fact that Jean and especially Kevin would know, wouldn’t they? I also don’t think Nora’s gonna do that. She wrote gay, trans, and polyamorous Trojans, which you could argue are accepted because it’s the Trojans, but even Jean doesn’t blink about Cody’s pronouns. It doesn’t really make sense to me that she’d pointedly avoid doing 2007-appropriate homophobia and then turn around and do 2007-appropriate homophobia. Possible? Yes. Do I think it’s gonna happen? No.

Cops

“There was little to no chance he’d know them, and no reason they’d recognize him, but Jeremy kept his gaze forward and mouth shut until they were past”. He’s afraid to be recognized. Is it because of a previous interaction (from the banquet? the scandal?) or because of his family? Is he apprehensive about them reacting to him, or something getting back to his family?

Later Rhemann offers to send Jeremy away before bringing the cops in after Jean is attacked. Jean has no idea why Rhemann is suggesting it, but it means that whatever Jeremy’s fear of cops is, he knows about it and also assumes Jeremy told Jean. This doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that Just Comes Up with your coach, so it’s probably based on a prior experience in college. The freshman year banquet again sounds like the likely explanation here.

Jeremy and Mental Health

Jean says “Maybe [Grayson] will also kill himself” and Jeremy replies “That isn’t a joke”, with “unexpected ferocity”. Cat winces. This could be Jeremy being well adjusted (A little before this, Cat says, “That’s not a thing well-adjusted people say”, after all), but his tone and Cat’s reaction makes it seem a lot more personal than Jeremy just saying “Suicide jokes aren’t funny”.

Guys, I think Jeremy’s mystery brother might’ve killed himself. If he played Exy and was bullied or maybe got seriously injured and later killed himself, and cops showed up when it happened, and it was somehow brought up during that banquet and Jeremy said something or reacted somehow that caused a familial rift… I think this is my leading theory.

Initially I didn’t think anything of “There’s been an accident”, but I wonder if maybe that’s how the news was broken to him about his brother. Or if his family insists on calling it “an accident” and maybe what happened at the banquet was Jeremy acknowledging that he doesn’t think it was.

“The right therapist can be legit life changing–just look at Jeremy for proof”, Cat says. We knew from the first Jeremy chapter that he was in therapy and talked about his family, but “life changing” speaks to the severity of all of it. His mom picking the therapist suggests that either he was off the rails enough for her to intervene (more likely mental health issues than something like drug use, again given the Trojans) or that she’s more supportive or sympathetic to him than his siblings and step father. We hear few references to his mom; just a passing comment about her bookkeeper, a mention that she makes the kids go to fundraisers and other events, and that she’s allergic to dogs. Oh, we also know that his mother didn’t hit him. We know he doesn’t get on with his sister or older brother and is “permanently on his stepfather’s bad side”, but very little at all about his relationship with his mom.

Miscellaneous

About the floozies, and I actually don’t think this is Jeremy backstory. Cat says it was “in response to some drama my freshman year”. She’s a rising junior, so that would’ve been Jeremy’s junior year. Jeremy’s scandalous exy banquet was his freshman year, so I think this is Catalina backstory, not Jeremy’s. I am obsessed with the fact that the queer Trojans nicknamed themselves the floozy line. Icons

One other line that seems potentially telling to me is, “What’s Grandpa think of this investment of yours”. What did Annalise mean by investment? Jeremy putting his time into exy? His use of money? The last thing Jeremy said was about Jean, could he be the “investment”? I think it’s most likely about exy, maybe how his commitment to it either reflects badly on the family or is seen as a silly endeavor

god, i could not be more excited for tsc2, or for the speculation in the meantime

#the sunshine court #tsc #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court spoilers #jeremy knox #jean moreau #usc trojans #aftg #all for the game #my post #aftg meta #tsc meta

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thesunfyre4446 · 1 day

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Yo. New to the HoTD discourse. I hope you don't mind me rant dumping on your blog. I'm a bit scatterbrained so I hope I lay out my feelings about these things clearly. I have finally watched HoTD and ....

Listen, I could have liked Rhaenyra well enough, in fact I didn't really mind her in the beginning. But it really all changed once I saw what the audience were saying. How the majority seems to have no sympathy for Allicent at all.

I thought we all understood that no character in Westeros is really all that great?? So I really cant understand the vile hatred spewed towards her? It feels like they even hate her more than anyone ever hated Joffrey or Cersei. People were rightfully angry with the show runners decision to have Jaime r*** her in that one scene. People were capable of feeling empathy for Cersei despite how despicable she is. But there's SOOO much victim blaming for Alicent. It drives me fucking nuts. And to show sympathy for her would have people dogging on you.

I really cannot believe my eyes when I see people thinking she willingly seduced that rotten walking corpse.

I was so naive to think people would understand where her character is coming from. She is utterly powerless. She doesn't have a king for a father to pardon every mistake she makes. She's suffocating and it makes sense for her to hate Rhaenyra who has more privilege than any woman who ever lived in that world, and yet still step over every single rule while expecting everyone else to just live with the consequences of her actions. We're supposed to like her??

I GET that the point of it all is that monarchy is just a shitty way to run a kingdom. I GET that Rhaenyra being a terrible ruler is the point. Man or woman it never mattered.

What I don't get is people thinking she's some feminist figurehead?? She behaves as a man does in that universe, entitled and unfit for what they feel entitled to. I get that that's the point, but that doesn't mean she's for the women at all. Like any man, she's out for herself. Why would I like her if she behaves as any corrupt man in that world would, when the only difference is she doesn't have a dick? And I wouldn't necessarily mind that? I don't watch HoTD or GoT for perfect characters. But if only the audience didn't treat her like some sort of hero and Alicent the pure villain.

I never felt frustrated with GoT discourse. Why the fuck does it seem like HoTD has bred this extremely toxic environment? You can't seem to have a different opinion unless your mouths dick sucking on Team Black.

Dany, just as entitled as she was, she was still able to do as duty demanded. Rhaenyra is a just a spoiled child all the way through. The hatred for Alicent and the inability for people to see Rhaenyra for what she is, has me thinking people have really missed the fucking point about what feminism actually is. And once again, I didnt watch HoTD for feminism. But the audience seems to think Rhaenyra is a beacon for it. Wether intentional or not, ideas take on a life of its own and you cannot divorce these fan-imposed ideas from the show anymore. That's really the part of all this that pisses me off.

I'm TG now not because I condone everything they've ever done. Literally everyone fucking sucks. I'm TG because I understand everyone fucking sucks. And I dislike being tube fed by the biased writers on what to think and feel.

anon, not a single lie was told.

people hate on alicent for displaying human emotions. it's insane. it's always "rhaenyra will turn westeros into barbieland" until someone brings out the fact that she has no intention of helping any other woman other then herself and then it's all "well, we shouldn't judge her from a modern day pov"..

"I'm TG because I understand everyone fucking sucks" this!! also, they have better characters lol

#hotd #house of the dragon #anon ask #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti team black stans #anti rhaenyra stans

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your-astro-mami · 2 days

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What astrological placements would you say shows self-discipline and really sticking to your routines? I love reading your asks where you answer questions like these, so if you do get to answer this one, thank you!

Sun/Moon/Mercury in the 6th House

They tend to enjoy a routine, having a routine - it could be a classic schedule or just what works for them, but there is always an order in which they do things. They can easily get anxious by unexpected plans, lack of order. They are good at planning, committing to a schedule - they have a dutiful nature and a good sense of responsibility in general.

Saturn in the 1st/3rd/6th House

Saturn in 1st hold themselves up to a high standard - they expect a lot from others but are also willing to put a lot of effort themselves. Saturn in 3rd are great at plans, time organization, while Saturn in 6th can be very disciplined at work, with their responsibilities, with their health routine.

Sun/Moon/Mercury conjunct Saturn

Sun-Saturn and Moon-Saturn are very self-critical so they always want to give their best and have a good result in what they do. Mercury-Saturn shows good organization, clear thinking, great at planning/committing to a schedule.

Ruler of the 1st House conjunct Saturn

Self-critical, ambitious, committed to the things they do in most areas of their life.

example: Leo Ascendant, Leo is ruled by the Sun, the Sun is conjunct Saturn.

Ruler of the 3rd House conjunct Saturn

Extremely organized, committed to their plans and ideas, puts a lot of energy into completing what they set on their mind.

Ruler of the 6th House conjunct Saturn

They have a strong sense of responsibility connected to work, their job, they day to day responsibilities, schedule, health routine. Very disciplined about health/fitness if that is a goal of theirs.

Sun/Moon/Mercury/Mars in Virgo can be very responsible, reliable, very willing to do their best at anything they start. Virgo on the 6th House cusp as well. They enjoy a routine, a schedule, they like to be on time.

#astrology #zodiac signs #routine #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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stayevildarling · 2 days

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hi, i loved your work a while back where mina wasn’t feeling well & reader helped. could you write something with cordelia x billie x mina x reader where mina gets hurt and they all try to help her but she tries to refuses…or something along those lines? no pressure i know you are probably busy. thanks you

Cordelia Goode x Billie Dean Howard x Wilhemina Venable x Reader- A silence so loud

A/N: It pains me so much to write poor Mina baby in pain but I have had a few requests about it so 🙇‍♀️

word count: 6k

tw: mention of scoliosis, mention of pain medication, mention of doctors, smoking, angst

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay, @whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson, @isle-of-earle, @paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime, @ohrwurm26, @wastdstime

Today was quiet, the atmosphere in the academy almost filled with a sense of unease, the air feeling a little colder than usual, the sky outside much darker than usual and the weather taking a sudden turn as the sky pours with rain. The four of you had decided to do some things of your own, still having some things mostly related to work left and excited to spend the evening in each other's embrace, Delia deciding to head to the markets to get some ingredients for dinner.

Billie Dean sitting in the living room by the fire place, in between face time calls to her agents and doing some things on social media to promote the upcoming season of her show. You had opted for doing some things around the academy in order to help out your girlfriends, especially Cordelia who has had a long week, filled with supreme duties. At first you briefly tidied her office for her, enough to make it clean and sort through some documents but not enough to invade her privacy. The supreme didn't mind, not having any secrets and trusting you enough to teach classes and help look after the girls but you still never wanted to pry. Afterwards, you took care of some things in the greenhouse, helping some of the few girls left at the academy packing their things and heading out for the weekend.

And as you close to the front door, walking through the large white hallway, you catch a glimpse of Billie, typing away on her laptop, taking some sips of the coffee you had brought her a while ago and you can't help but smile, seeing her in her element, looking as ethereal as ever in a long flower skirt and blouse and wondering how she managed to always look so stunning, even on a quiet rainy weekend. Suddenly, the thought of your redhead girlfriend crosses your mind, thinking how she seemed a little tense this week, not enough for either of you to worry but enough for you to notice. And then it kind of dawns on you that despite it now being the afternoon, you hadn't seen her today.

This morning you only caught a glimpse of her, not long enough to really even have a conversation with her and then as thunder strikes through the academy, Billie shrieking a little at the sudden noise, it dawns on you again how when you had tried to bring her some tea before, she wasn't in her office and so you had left it on her desk. With a sense of urgency, you glance at Billie, who had abandoned her phone call a while ago, deciding it was enough working for the day. ,,Billie?'' you ask, almost a little anxiously as she turns her head to look at you. At first she thinks the thunder may have upset you, quickly on her feet as her heels tap against the marble floor. ,,Are you okay babydoll?'' she asks, as soon as she reaches you, noticing your slightly pale expression.

,,Have you seen Mina today?'' you question, your voice betraying your anxiety. Billie's eyebrows furrow for a moment, thinking back but she also had no recollection of really seeing the redhead today, trying to think whether she mentioned anything about heading out today. ,,No babydoll'' she reassures, a flicker of worry now mirroring her brown orbs.

Clearing your throat, your eyes wander to the staircase, before taking a deep breath ,,I'm going to check on her'' you announce, already on your way, before Billie is quick to follow behind. ,,Let me come babydoll'' she ushers, taking your hand as the two of you climb the staircase, halting outside the redheads office door.

What neither of you three had known was that the past week had tested the usual strong woman in ways she hadn't been tested before. Her work had been unusually demanding, her bosses draining all the energy she had left to give with their usual demanding and ridiculous personalities. She felt more agitated, struggling a little to keep the perfect facade up as soon as she returned home in the evenings. All she wanted to do was hide away, to the comfort of bed or even the silence of her office. But she couldn't, Wilhemina never able to lay out her feelings in front of either of you, her past having scarred her in ways neither of her girlfriends could imagine.

Despite everything, the redhead felt like she had a job with you three, a purpose. Being the shoulder Cordelia could lean on whenever the academy and being the most powerful witch weighed heavily on her shoulders. Whenever doubts filled her about whether she was doing this justice, whether she was slowly turning into her mother. The two of them had a quiet understanding and of course Cordelia knew all too well about Wilhemina's past and sorrow. She tried hard to make her life easier in any ways she could, offering her full support, whether that was with Wilhemina's demanding job, her pains, often offering to accompany her to Doctors appointments, pick up her medication for her, anything to make her life easier.

With Billie, the redhead felt like she had the purpose to cheer the medium, knowing despite all the fun parts of her job it was never really easy, the hauntings, the ghosts, often keeping Billie up at night and Wilhemina the one awake and softly coaxing her back to sleep. Often the two of them communicating with nothing but sarcasm and bickering but it was their love language, it always had been, Billie knowing it triggered the redhead a little but at the same time coaxed her out of her stoic shell at times. And Billie wasn't great with words sometimes and so the only thing she could do for the redhead was coax her in her attention and love. Mostly showering her in gifts that Wilhemina would find randomly almost weekly in her office. One time it was a small lilac Chanel purse that Wilhemina had taken to work ever since. Another time a lavender candle that the redhead kept lit in her office and just this week a bouquet of lilac flowers, that Wilhemina had kept on her night table, a reminder that she could get through this week as Billie had, in silence, noticed that this week was a little harsher on her girlfriend.

And at last there was you, her little one. Since meeting you and you joining their relationship, Wilhemina felt an odd amount of protectiveness over you. She felt the same towards Cordelia and Billie, especially considering the dangers their jobs and lives brought. But you were different for some reason, Wilhemina seeing a small part of her younger self in you, wanting to protect you from life's pain and burdens. She was always by your side, a set of brown eyes always lingering whenever you are nearby, making sure Madison wasn't teasing you too much, making sure your students respected you, as she sometimes made an appearance at your classes, observing quietly from a distance. Wilhemina made sure whenever you were in pain, may it be a simple headache or a specifically painful period, that you would confide in her. You didn't know but deep down she never wanted you to be like her, not able to ask for help. And so she showered you in love, nothing too much for her, often making it a habit to make some time with just you, sometimes reading to you, even teaching you to knit a while ago. And in return you gave her your everything, there was something special about your love with all of them but Mina was different.

You had never loved anyone so deeply, as no one ever made you feel quite that safe. And you knew all too well about her stubbornness, her refusal of asking for help and so you tried to do it in silence. Every morning, she would find a packed lunchbox on the kitchen table, along with the daily newspaper, the kettle and some tea already prepared for her. When she returned from work, she would find a nice warm bath waiting for her, her office always tidy and her medication draw always stocked up. And despite her hating it secretly, she accepted it from you, knowing you meant well, you never pried, never asked too much or the wrong questions and she adored you for it. But despite it all, she couldn't confide in either of you this week, how her back had hurt so much more than usual, how she couldn't walk at times, how her legs, arms and hands and every single bone in her body hurt so much that sometimes it brought tears to her eyes. How she had considered to take double her usual dosage as it all felt a little unbearable.

And so, the only thing she could do today, was sit in her office, not to do any work, giving you all that excuse to be left alone but simply to deal with her pain. Deal with this week, knowing if she wasn't going to get this quiet time she would lash out, letting all the anger and frustration out on either of you, like she had done many times in the past, her eyes always pleading for forgiveness after but she didn't want to do this today. Not after all the kindness you all had showed her and continue to show her. And then her thoughts are interrupted by a knock, a very quiet one and she knew it was you by the way it was so faint and quiet, knowing you had no intention of disturbing her. But she also knew it was Billie, hearing the sound of heels ascend the stairs moments before and she sighs, knowing she couldn't stay in here forever as the evening approached and she had every intention of spending it with you three, having missed you this week.

,,Come in'' she announces and you breathe out in relief, as you gently open the door, exposing her sitting in her armchair, her expression neutral despite the pain. As you glance around her office, you notice how it all looked the same, the tea cup in the same spot you had left it in, her computer and work pile not being touched either and it makes you wonder what she had done all day. Billie approaches, lacking your gentleness, walking over to the redhead and pressing a kiss to her cheeks. ,,We wanted to check on you Venable, haven't seen you all day'' the medium announces and you can't help but notice the way she winced when Billie gently placed her hand on her shoulders and kissed her cheeks. ,,Is everything okay Mina?'' you ask, anxiously, knowing she was unusually quiet today. ,,Fine, little one'' she replies, forcing her best smile and watching Billie as she strolls through her office almost noisily and Wilhemina watching carefully.

,,So what have you been up to?'' Billie asks, almost absent-mindedly as she lights a cigarette and continues strolling through her office and by your girlfriends reaction you knew she was about to snap. Wilhemina didn't condone the habit and she wouldn't usually say anything about Billie smoking near her or in her room but you also knew whenever she was agitated, she would scold her and tell her off for just that habit. ,,Really Howard?'' Wilhemina questions, her eyebrow perched up and her voice mirroring her annoyance. Billie simply shrugs, while you continue to observe carefully. And then with a swift motion and almost too quickly, Wilhemina gets up, reaching for her cane, her steps echoing through the room as she walks towards you, noticing your worried expression. ,,I'm going to make some tea, would you like some little one?'' she asks and you simply nod, unsure how to interject.

Billie and you follow behind as the redhead walks down the stairs, almost a little slower than usual and you can't help but notice the way her right foot was limping a bit, ever so slightly but that wasn't usually there. And as your eyes meet the mediums, the same expression is on her face but you remain silent, knowing you couldn't bring this up now. Billie observes quietly as she stands by the doorframe of the kitchen, taking turns between scrolling on her phone and lighting another cigarette. You stand almost frozen as you watch the redhead walk up to the kettle, struggling as her shaky hands fill it up with water. And then comes the first challenge as you had clumsily put the tea back on one of the top shelves, needing a little stool before as one of the girls had put it there you assume. And you scold yourself internally, usually being so mindful of the redhead around the academy and wanting to make everything accessible for her.

,,Mina let me help'' you usher, walking over to her but she glares at you then, her features filled with anger, hating to be treated like a child as you never would have offered the same with Billie or Cordelia. And you halt in your steps, Billie watching the scene unfold quietly as your heart breaks in front of you. But you can't help it, knowing by now she was upset but wanting to help, wanting to make things easier, not wanting her to hurt by reaching for the tea herself.

,,Mina, I'm sorry I must have put it up there by accident earlier, let me get it'' you try again but her stubbornness takes over as she glares at you again, abandoning her cane on the kitchen counter and stepping onto the little stool ,,I am more than capable-'' she begins but she doesn't get to finish as fate decides to have a turn. And then just as the front door opens, Cordelia returning with some shopping bags and a smile on her face, excited to see her girlfriends, Wilhemina slips, her heels scraping against the stool as she loses her balance, her hand pathetically trying to hold onto something but there was nothing to hold onto. And despite Billie dropping her cigarette, Cordelia trying to move quickly and you leaving your frozen state and lunging forward she slips, falling backwards, the thud that follows sending waves of pain through your heart and her back.

There is a split moment of silence, the room frozen as the seconds tick by, Wilhemina on the floor, Cordelia almost by the kitchen now, Billie and you watching in shock. And you all heard it, that crack and as you all snap awake, you see her ankle and the way you could only imagine what just happened and how much that must hurt. ,,Mina'' you call out, ever so quietly as you finally find the ability to breathe and walk again, quick by her side as you kneel in front of her. Her eyes are closed, not from unconsciousness but pain and the medium and supreme are quick by her side as well, Cordelia dropping the shopping bags and Billie quickly abandoning her cigarette in the sink.

,,Honey?'' Cordelia tries, gently taking her swollen and red ankle into her hands but she flinches at her touch then. Opening her eyes, you see a fire in them, anger but also tears but she definitely knows how to fight those back. ,,I'm fine'' she is quick to compose herself and sit up, ignoring the waves of pain crashing over her body. ,,Darling, let us help'' Billie tries, feeling awful that she simply stood and watched this unfold. And as Wilhemina scans her surroundings, trying to find wherever she had abandoned her cane, Cordelia tries again ,,Honey, your ankle looks hurt, let me check'' she fusses but for good reason. However she is having none of it ,,Leave it'' she scolds almost hissing, her voice filled with venom. And you can tell, you can tell she didn't want this, didn't want to be fussed, didn't want any help, all she wanted was to get up and her cane. And so you stand up, quickly reaching for her cane and handing it to her. And as her eyes meet yours, they mirror some gratefulness, the anger slowly subsiding.

And so she takes her cane into her hand, the stubbornness winning over as she simply gets back up, as if she didn't just break her ankle, as if this wasn't the second time she had fallen this week, despite remaining quiet about it. As if she hadn't hurt her ankle this week already at work but putting on a brave face. As if everything within her just wanted to cry and let the pain win over. But that side always won and so the three of you back away a little, Cordelia's hand lingering behind the redhead to at least be able to help if she lost her balance again, Billie taking some steps away, giving Wilhemina space. And then she stands there again, composed, as if nothing happened, taking a deep breath, before leaving, definitely wanting to be alone now. You watch in pain as she exits the kitchen, even slower than usual walking away, leaving the three of you behind in pain, as the sound of the kettle startles you, a painful reminder that this was all your fault due to your foolishness of leaving the tea on the top shelf.

,,Mina-'' you try one more time, tears lingering in your eyes but she doesn't pay you any attention, simply walking up the stairs, carrying the whole world of pain on her tired shoulders. Billie is quick to leave, abandoning all of this to cool off, to have a cigarette outside, wanting to be alone and deal with this herself. And so it leaves you and Cordelia, the supreme watching in pain as the redhead finally makes it up the stairs and back to her office, you a shivering mess in front of her. ,,Sweetheart'' she tries, moving closer to you and placing her hand on your shoulder to get you to turn around. And when you do, your face filled with tears, she takes you into her arms as you sob quietly into her chest, her holding you, despite not having the full picture on what had happened.

Cordelia is quick to turn the kettle off, to rid you of the painful sound and reminder on what happened, before sitting you down at the table, kneeling in front of you. And for the first time today, you really see your girlfriend, taking in her features as she looks ethereal as ever, wearing a black slightly see-through flower patterned blouse, her usual black long flowy pants and some heels. Her features are filled with concern and worry before she speaks softly ,,Darling, what happened?'' she asks quietly, placing her hands on your knees, rubbing little circles on them to comfort you. Her eyes reassuring you it was okay and she was going to fix it but that she needed all the details.

,,I- I'' you struggle to find your words, focusing in order to make your tears and pathetic breathing stop and return to normal. ,,I didn't see Mina a lot today and me and Billie checked on her'' you begin, the supreme listening intently. ,,And I think she got a little annoyed with us'' you admit, thinking back to the conversation in Wilhemina's office. ,,She came down to make some tea'' you explain further before your gaze averts her, catching a glimpse of Billie returning and heading to the hallway, to collect the dropped bags from Cordelia. ,,It was my fault'' you admit, meeting her brown eyes before her eyebrows furrow. ,,I- I made her some tea around lunch time and I must have placed it on the shelf- I'm sorry'' you cry but Delia is quick to shush you. ,,Hey sweetie, it's okay'' she coos, pulling you forward and back into her safe arms. ,,You couldn't have known darling, this isn't on you'' she reassures.

And then Billie startles you, despite not meaning to as she places the bags neatly on the table, wanting to desperately help out as she is feeling utterly useless in this whole situation. ,,I think'' Billie begins as she clears her throat, catching yours and Cordelia's attention. ,,I think there is something off'' she announces, nervously unpacking the groceries. ,,She seemed off this week and-'' she stops herself then before looking to you. ,,I can't be the only one who noticed the limping earlier, babydoll?'' she questions only to be met with your agreement. ,,When she walked downstairs she was limping on that ankle already'' you confess to Cordelia, hoping the supreme could fix this, could help your Mina. And again, the supreme listens intently, slowly understanding by getting the full picture.

Silence fills the kitchen as the blonde tries to weigh her options, knowing how stern Wilhemina was and knowing there wasn't really a right way to approach this. ,,I'll try and talk to her'' she announces after a little while and you and Billie simply nod gratefully. Before the supreme gets ready to leave, you stop her. ,,Wait'' you call out, quickly walking over to the counter and finishing what Mina had tried to do in the first place. ,,Can you take this up?'' you ask, your eyes pleading with her as you hand her a cup of tea. She smiles then, before taking it and pressing a kiss to your forehead, adoring your kindness. And when Cordelia walks upstairs, Billie comes up from behind, wrapping her arms around you protectively. ,,How about we get a head start on that dinner?'' she murmurs and you simply nod, wanting to help out both Cordelia and Mina, hoping the supreme could calm her enough to join you for dinner.

And while the two of you begin, Cordelia finds herself knocking on the redheads office, waiting for a reply but knowing there wasn't going to be any. And so she enters, pushing aside the voice in her head telling her not to but refusing to let her girlfriend struggle in silence. ,,Mina darling?'' she tries as she enters. She finds her office empty, but hearing a faint noise from the bathroom and so she closes the door, abandoning the tea cup on her desk, finding another cup there, assuming it was the one you had taken up to her hours before, despite it being left untouched. The door to the bathroom is closed and so she knocks again, this time a little more urgently ,,Darling?'' she tries, her voice betraying her concern and anxiety. And Wilhemina stands by the mirror, tears lingering in her eyes as she holds onto a bottle of her pain medication, the pain of her ankle almost killing her but the guilt weighing more heavily on her as she didn't mean for her stubbornness to win over again.

She ignores the supreme, her pleas to open the door, as she contemplates what to do, whether to finally just open up and let those walls tumble down. But the voice has the upper hand again, causing for her to simply extract two more pills, quickly swallowing them, before composing herself and opening the door, again as if nothing had happened. ,,Are you okay?'' Cordelia whispers, her eyebrows furrowed and the redhead simply nods, brushing past her and taking a seat on her armchair again, Cordelia of course noticing the limping and trying hard to contain her emotions. And so the supreme stands there, unsure what to do or say. ,,Here'' she softly tries, walking over to her desk and handing her the cup of tea, hoping it could at least coax her out a little. Wilhemina takes it almost hesitantly, abandoning it again on the little table next to her, wanting nothing more than to be left alone.

,,You need to let me take a look darling'' she announces, her voice sounding a little firm, glancing at Wilhemina's red and swollen ankle. And as Cordelia kneels down in front of her, the redhead watches carefully but there was always something about the blonde that made her falter even a little bit. And so as Cordelia inspects it carefully, hovering her hands above it while she closes her eyes, Wilhemina simply watches in silence, ignoring the voice for once. And as Cordelia looks up, noticing how the red and swelling didn't go, how the pain was still there in her girlfriends eyes, she knows this was more severe than her magic could fix. ,,Honey, I'm afraid it may be broken, otherwise my magic could have fixed it'' she announces and Wilhemina simply scoffs then. ,,Darling, I need you to see a doctor'' she tries, again firmly but her eyes still portraying the usual gentleness. ,,I will do no such thing' she scoffs again, averting her gaze.

,,Mina darling'' Cordelia tries again but the redhead is having none of it. ,,I'll be fine Cordelia, just stop worrying'' she hisses but then something snaps within the supreme, not being able to take her stubbornness for a second longer, especially if her wellbeing was at risk. ,,No you aren't fine Wilhemina'' the blonde blurts out, her eyes meeting hers. ,,You are hurting and we can all see it and you have been hurting all week'' she exclaims. And then Wilhemina's eyes meet hers, locking with her girlfriends, maybe the slight sternness from her girlfriend, finally causing some walls to break down.

,,What happened this week?'' Cordelia asks, noticing the redheads confusion ,,The first time this happened?'' she questions and Wilhemina almost cries then, unsure how exactly the supreme had figured it out but all the pain finally faltering. And in response, Wilhemina lets the tears flow, a very rare occasion, tears of pain, physical pain from her back, ankle and her tired bones. Heartache from treating you three like this before and having to remain so stoic and stubborn all the time. And Cordelia doesn't push for answers, simply letting her fall apart in front of her, not saying anything as she knows words are too much, simply placing a comforting warm hand on her girlfriends knees as she continues to kneel in front of her.

Meanwhile Billie and you had finished cooking and as the food simmers, you watch as the blonde paces a little, sighing in frustration. ,,Billie?'' you question gently, noticing how her mood suddenly changed a little and how agitated she seems. ,,I'm sure she broke her ankle'' the medium sighs, fiddling nervously with her nails. You can't help but equally sigh, frustrated with how this day turned out and not able to feel anything but guilt. Silence fills the room as you think about it for a moment, only now realising that if this was true, neither you or Cordelia could fix this for your girlfriend as your magic didn't allow and work that way. ,,I really think we should get her to see a doctor'' you sigh, propping yourself up on the kitchen counter as your legs dangle away. ,,She won't go to see one'' Billie huffs, taking a safe distance away from the food and lighting a cigarette in frustration. And then suddenly, an idea pops into your head and Billie can tell by the way you bite your lip, how you always did that, almost biting the words away.

,,What is it babydoll?'' Billie questions, a cloud of smoke surrounding her ,,You know that friend of yours you have mentioned? the one that does visits?'' you ask, remembering how Billie knew all sorts of celebrities and always talked about this specific one, knowing Wilhemina hated hospitals and doctors and she wouldn't go to a place she didn't know, her usual doctors not being an option considering it being the weekend and evening now. And as the revelation registers in the mediums brain, she is quick to abandon her cigarette, reach for her phone and walk into the hallway, pacing in circles as she usually did whenever she was on the phone. And as you listen carefully, not to pry, but to get Mina the help she needed as quick as possible, you hear Billie set all the details. ,,Thank you'' you exclaim with a soft and grateful smile. The medium returns your gentleness with brushing her nails across your cheeks, before kissing your forehead. ,,Thank you babydoll, for being so smart and always listening to me ramble'' she jokes almost, before you watch her ascend the stairs.

And you follow behind, not wanting to disturb either of them but to simply listen and be of assistance if anyone needed anything. And so, Billie Dean walks into Wilhemina's office, not knocking, not really caring, thankfully the supreme having wiped the redheads tears by now. ,,Alright, I don't care what either of you say but-'' Billie begins, pointing her fingers at both of them, earning a small smirk from Cordelia at her antics and even Wilhemina smirks at least internally at her dramatic entrance. ,,I have called one of my close friends, she's a doctor and will be here to do a house call in about 20 minutes''. As she finishes her sentence, Cordelia's face grows a little pale, anxious as she wasn't sure whether she had already gotten Wilhemina to the point where she would be willing to accept help. And as the redhead glances around the room, she notices the anxiousness in both Cordelia and Billie's faces, awaiting her response and as she for the first time notices your presence, as you almost hide behind Billie still feeling guilty and overall horrible that she was suffering so much, she falters, still composed and graceful as ever of course.

,,Alright, thank you Billie'' she announces, both blonde heads snapping in her direction as neither of them expected it. ,,You're welcome and I promise she's great'' Billie assures, giving the redhead a gentle and warm smile. ,,I'm going to go and check on dinner, maybe we can all eat together after she's finished with you Venable?'' Billie jokes, trying to lighten the mood a little and despite everything earning a low chuckle from the redhead and a nod in agreement. ,,Would you like me to stay with you honey?'' Cordelia offers with a smile but as you follow behind Billie, she clears her throat ,,Actually- little one?'' she asks, instantly causing you to turn around and look at her. ,,Would you mind keeping me company?'' she offers, patting the seat next to her. As you glance at Cordelia, she smiles, giving Wilhemina a proud gaze as she leaves you both to it.

,,Come here little one'' she offers, patting her lap as her brown eyes search yours, but you don't feel comfortable considering the pain she must be in and so all you do is take a seat beside her, playing with your rings as a nervous habit. The room fills with silence as Wilhemina watches you intently, trying to think of something to say to get her little one to smile again. ,,I'm so sorry Mina'' you suddenly blurt out, taking you both by surprise. ,,I- I guess someone placed the tea there and when I made you some tea I must have put it back up there'' you cry, tears flowing freely from your eyes as you squeeze them shut. ,,I'm sorry that you are hurting Mina, it's all my fault''. And as she hears your words and takes in your sobbing form, she can't help but fight her own back, how you could ever blame yourself for this, considering this was all due to her own stubbornness and refusing to let you help her. ,,Little one'' she tries, the back of her hand brushing over your cheeks to wipe your tears. ,,None of this is your fault, you have been so kind and gentle and well I- I have just been me'' she admits and this causes you to look at her, your eyes locking with her brown ones.

The two of you are quickly interrupted when Billie knocks on the door, exposing one of her famous doctor friends, who enters with some supplies and two bags. ,,I'll leave you to it'' Billie announces softly, glancing at you and Wilhemina before giving you some space. As the older woman introduces herself to Wilhemina, you retreat from the chair, wanting to give them both some room and the doctor some space to do her examination and as Wilhemina glances at you, you see something in her eyes that you don't usually see, fear and the silent plea for you to stay close. And so you opt to stand behind where she is sitting, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, not enough to hurt her but enough so she can feel you are there. The examination is over quickly, the doctor actually a little unsure whether the bone is broken or just fractured. ,,I recommend you to get an X-ray done tomorrow, I would gladly set up an appointment with Ms Howard for you'' she explains as she wraps up her things. ,,But I urge you to rest and maybe you can make sure she puts some ice on it and uses these creams'' the woman explains now addressing you directly and handing you some supplies. ,,Of course, thank you very much'' you thank her as you watch her wrap up her things and leave.

Cordelia and Billie wait anxiously downstairs until the doctor returns, having set the table for the four of you, hoping after the examination, a sense of normality would follow. ,,And?'' Billie Dean asks nervously as she fiddles with her nails yet again. ,,I can't confirm whether it's broken, I will need to do that at my practice but I'm happy to set up an appointment with you, for now I suggest rest and the medication that I have left with them both'' she confirms and Billie sighs in relief a little, unsure what exactly she was expecting but glad it doesn't seem too serious after all yet. ,,Thank you so much doctor'' Cordelia thanks her with a warm smile before Billie exclaims ,,Rest will be hard with her'' and she is met with a smile and nod from the supreme. ,,She seems tough'' Billie's friend exclaims as she gets ready to leave, Billie guiding her to the door ,,Oh yeah, she's a feisty one'' Billie chuckles before saying her goodbyes.

Meanwhile you kneel in front of your girlfriend gently, glancing around the room a little anxiously before asking ,,Mina?'' and she is quick to hum as a reply, meeting your eyes. ,,May I help you please?'' you ask, your voice filled with gentleness, not an ounce of judging or wanting to coddle her. And so she simply nods, meeting your eyes, a little unsure how to actually accept help when given. ,,Would you like if we get you in some more comfortable clothes?'' you ask and after thinking about it, she nods and you are quick to leave her for a moment to get the necessary things. In a heartbeat you return as you help her gently into some new clothes, with her consent putting some of the cream on her swollen ankle, promising to get her some ice as well. ,,Do you need any more pain medication?'' you ask carefully but she shakes her head, remembering she already had the highest doses today.

,,Would you like to eat downstairs? I could easily take something up here for you'' you try but she shakes her head, already reaching for her cane as she carefully balances on it. And as she walks towards you, a little slower than usual, you smile, grateful and proud that for once your stoic Mina accepted help, despite all the circumstances leading to this. ,,Little one?'' she asks as she holds out her free hand to you. ,,Thank you'' is the words that follow after and it almost brings tears to your eyes then, watching her soften up. And so as you and Wilhemina moments later, walk down the stairs together, Billie and Cordelia watch with expressions filled with love and proudness. And as the four of you finally enjoy each other's company for the night, Cordelia insisting on Wilhemina putting up her leg on a nearby chair and you fetching an ice pack for her, Billie gushing about her doctor friend a little and praising herself mostly, it all comes full circle.

And despite the pain and the unknown of whether your girlfriend in fact really broke her angle, the anxiety of having to get the checks done, waiting for the result and the painful weeks to follow, tonight is another reminder that maybe Wilhemina didn't need to keep her walls so high all the time, at least not with you three. Maybe she could allow Cordelia's hovering at times, Billie's suggestions that sometimes sounded awful but ended up being good in the end and maybe even your kind and gentleness towards her. And as the evening wears on slowly, the mood outside of the safe walls of the academy lightens as well as a bright sunset filled with red and oranges fills the sky, illuminating the kitchen, almost matching Wilhemina's mood as of right now, everything felt right, being with each other.

#sarah paulson #cordelia goode #wilhemina venable #ahs #american horror story #billie dean howard #sarah paulson x reader #cordelia goode x reader #billie dean howard x reader #wilhemina venable x reader

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sitp-recs · 2 days

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do you have a fic rec where harry healed his trauma and then he met draco who still feel so shameful about himself, so then harry helps draco to heal his war trauma? thanks in advance! 💓

Hi anon, what a great ask! I love the idea of them bonding over shared trauma, and I think the best fics exploring this theme are the ones showing that healing is in fact an ongoing (and often non-linear) process, in this sense they’re always healing together 🥹 here are some fics that came to mind, most are down & out Draco but not all of them. Enjoy!

Slow Hands by eleventy7 (T, 10k)

Blood, shadows, and paper hearts. The Shadow hunts students, but Draco Malfoy most of all.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (E, 11k)

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When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

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Draco finds his way after the war.

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Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning.

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Draco's the most unlikely Auror recruited to the department in at least three centuries. Ostracised and unwanted, he's been on paperwork duties for the three years since he finished training. Harry is the Saviour of the Wizarding World with nice forearms and too-large hands who suddenly starts turning up in the Ministry gym when Draco’s there, and sitting on Draco’s desk, and asking for Draco’s assistance on cases.

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Hope may be found in the oddest of places, even in the bleakness of winter.

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Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

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Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #war trauma #Harry helping Draco heal

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blazinghotfoggynights · 1 day

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It is totally possible to be a Buddie endgamer AND still support Buck/Tommy. It's possible to never be shaken from your stance as Buck and Eddie being soulmates while supporting every relationship they have been in, regardless of how dysfunctional it was.

Here's my take:

I want to see both Buck and Eddie explore life and find their true paths independently of each other, Christopher, and the 118. They are more than just each other's best friend/coparent, Christopher's fathers, and firefighters/part of the 118 family.

Since we know there is a season 8, and I would guess a season 9+ if these ratings keep up, it would be awesome to watch a full season, or more, of character evolution. We could watch Buck dating both men and women openly, learning his value, and discovering what he wants for his future.

Buck, as Bobby pointed out, doesn't enter into relationships of his own accord. He stumbles and falls into them without a clue how he got there. One day, he wakes up and he's someone's boyfriend or living with someone and isn't sure how it happened. Buck simply goes wherever someone will accept him. He misconstrues that acceptance and tolerance as genuine romance, feelings, and love.

Abby was bored and lonely and horny. I could say a lot about that relationship. If the motivation strikes, I may post about how that relationship was toxic and manipulative on Abby's part. If there are any Abby fans, you need to know your girl was showing some tendencies that were red flags.

Ali? Buck was single. She showed interest. That's it.

Taylor? Great sex and she kept coming back to Buck. She was there for all the wrong reasons and had questionable morals, but she was there. That was enough for Buck.

Natalia, again, was simply in front of Buck. She was obviously only interested in Buck's death, not Buck as a person, but Buck didn't care. He tried to make it work anyway because Natalia gave him time and attention.

So, we have an established pattern of Buck dating whoever will give him the time of day when he needs it most.

Enter Tommy. Buck is feeling left out. He's probably slipping into loneliness and spiraling because he feels the most important person in his life for the last six years is being taken away from him. (That's Eddie, for those in the back.)

Tommy shows up, sees Buck is spiraling, and kisses him. (Tommy fans, canon has established that Tommy has bad guy capabilities. Stop trying to gaslight the fans who are saying he may not be the good guy his sudden fandom claims he is. He isn't and Hen and Chimney forgiving him doesn't change that. People who are capable of consciously being a-holes are just a-holes. Mmkay?) He doesn't just hit on Buck. He physically initiates contact, giving Buck no doubt the man is open to other men. He showed Buck attention in a moment of crisis and he's a safe option after Buck openly admitted he was jealous and trying to get attention.

Buck stumbles into the next relationship. (Again, I could examine that situation, but if I do, it will be in a separate post.)

The show could give us Eddie admitting he let the expectations and influences of third parties control his destiny and he has no idea who Edmundo Diaz really is outside of what was expected of him, what he was taught, and what he did out of a sense of duty instead of doing what he wanted to.

He was with Shannon because she was pregnant and the right thing to do, per their parents and his faith, was marry her. I think he loves her for giving him his son, but nothing he has ever said or done indicates he was in love with her. I think he thinks he was. I think he wanted to be.

He was with Ana because Christopher needed a mother, per what he was told and taught, and she had an impressive resume and knew Christopher.

He is with Marisol because she fits the perfect mold of what his parents would like and she gets along with Christopher.

Should we talk about Eddie's relationships timing up perfectly with when Buck enters a relationship? No?

That man has never once in six seasons made a believable statement about genuine attraction to or sexual enjoyment with women. Ladies and gentlemen, if you have straight male friends who are in their 20s or 30s, you know you will be subjected to more details about their sexual history than you ever wanted to know. (Many of my close friends historically have been straight men. Conversations with them have been interesting and eye-opening. Sometimes traumatic, too, but I knew what I signed up for when I became their friend.)

Eddie canonically is in his early 30s and has been on the screen since his late 20s, but went without sex for years, never seemed to miss it, and now he's suddenly "pent up"? That is not the whole story and there is more going on there.

I'd love to see Eddie figure out he isn't into Marisol and hasn't been into anyone genuinely, except maybe Shannon. There could easily be a demisexuality arc for Eddie. Keep in mind, the term demisexuality was coined less than 20 years ago and is still not widely known. Eddie could spend a season, or more, working through the feelings he's ignored or been unable to put into words, dealing with overbearing parents, and how his faith has quietly, and unbeknownst to him, guided his choices. He could spend a long time wondering why he never feels an instant connection with anyone, except Buck and Tommy. (You seeing a pattern here?) This season has openly pointed out Eddie is in therapy.

The road to Buddie can be filled with satisfying detours, aka other relationships, leading to the realizations that open their eyes to each other. We don't have to negate the Buck and Eddie's experiences with others to support Buddie.

The part of me that wants instant gratification would love to see Eddie and Buck dancing at Madney's wedding and figuring out they are what they have been looking for all along. Cut to them in a room going at it.

But, the part of me that loves a great story, and doesn't mind waiting if the writing is great, is fine with a slow burn that gives us deep storylines and episodes that grip you from beginning to end. Let's say we have the rest of season 7, season 8, and maybe a season 9. There would be so much possible material.

Buck could go through a relationship with Tommy, a breakup, confusion, dating again, multiple amazing conversations with LGBTQ characters like Hen, Karen. This would also allow for giving other characters more depth, backstory, and more time on-screen. (This would be an amazing time to bring back Rockmond Dunbar as Michael and have him and Buck discuss figuring your sexuality out later in life!)

Eddie could spend that time working through his Catholic guilt and separating his actual needs and desires from what he was taught to need and desire. He could realize he makes excuses to stay with the women he dates then finds an excuse to escape when being with those women gives him anxiety. He could begin questioning if he is gay, bi, pan, or what. Then he could ask himself why he never really gets to know the women he dates. Who has he been close to? What was different? What gives him a feeling of safety and security and home? He needs to figure himself out.

So, yes, I do believe Buck/Tommy is acceptable and I support it, just not as endgame. I think, if written well, it could be integral to a great growth plot that takes us through Eddie and Buck diverging on their paths to self-discovery only to converge later on, a little more scarred but more in tune with themselves, to see their future in each other.

#911 abc #911 on abc #9 1 1 buddie #buddie #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #buddie 911 #eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckley x eddie diaz #buck/tommy #911 tuck #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #911 #911 show #911 season 7

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