#▸if you would dare to love her it will be the death of you. ↷ ch. APHRODITE aesth.

[ahamkara-apologist]

100%. It's also worth noting that Eramis's grudge with the Traveler and her intent to destroy it wasn't even entirely irrational; she wanted it gone so that people's fates weren't dependent on the whims of gods. She wanted to level the playing fields, and while she was wrong in her assumption that it was the Traveler leaving that led to the destruction of Riis, she also...wasn't entirely wrong, either. Humanity is the only instance where the Traveler stayed and fought back, and we're the only species assailed by the Black Fleet that got to keep our homeworld as a result. We're not any more worthy than the other species that were eradicated we just happened to get lucky. Eramis (and the rest of the Eliksni) have every right to be furious at this, given the amount of horrors that they had to endure on the Drift to get to Sol- horrors that are so bad that in the opening mission of Revenant, Eramis uses the Drift the same way that we would use 'hell' when she roared "Stand before me if you dare! I'll send you back to the Drift again and again!"

Eramis's goal, while foolish, was still selfless, to an extent- it was to destroy the Traveler so that nobody could ever suffer from a second Whirlwind, which, despite everything, did include us as well. She's never liked humanity, much less the Young Wolf, but she's also never given off the vibe of her hatred for us being personal. She genuinely seemed to have thought that we were being treated like pawns by the Traveler in Beyond Light, and, as soon as she unthawed in Plunder and realized that she was the one being used as a pawn, she warmed up to the idea of double-crossing the Witness right quick. I don't remember exactly when she said it, but I do recall hearing her have dialogue where she was talking about how much she hates gods in general, not just the Traveler, and how she wants to be free of them- all of them. If that means giving over the reigns to House Light, then yes, she will do that. Not willingly, ofc, and she has every right to be suspicious about how well House Light will work bc they ARE under the yoke of the Last City, but a big chunk of why she saved Eido in Plunder is bc she sees the future in her (the rest of it was bc, despite her posturing, I don't believe that Eramis would ever be able to stand by and watch a young Eliksni die. She's too much of a mom for that).

And that leads into a whole other thing that people always seem to get wrong: Eramis did not have a choice when it came to firing the warsats. Yes, the Witness exploited her, yes it was preying upon her grief and fury and depression like it did for everyone else it talked to, but she also never had any other option but to fire those missiles, because it was standing right there, staring at her. If she refused, then she likely would have either been killed and/or she would have been horribly punished via more of her people being turned into Scorn and then sent to do it themselves (likely this, bc Eramis is suicidal and does not value her own life). It SEEMED like she did it for Riis, and she likely believed that to be the case, but there was never an option for her to back away, and even if she did, there was never an alternative to the Warsats being fired. People like to bitch about her being the cause of Rasputin's death all the time and it drives me insane bc it's just flat-out not true. Her seeing for her own eyes that it never would have worked anyways was also a key pivotal moment for her character, so like...yeah if Rasputin had to die in order for Eramis and the rest of the Eliksni to get an actual storyline then you bet your ass I'm sending that man to eeby deeby. But that's just a side bit from me being salty (for the record I loved Rasputin's character and was sad he died but also I think the writers got themselves stuck in a corner with the whole Xivu thing and him, and they managed to make his death feel narrative impactful, so. works for me). Eramis's whole stint under the Witness was one of punishment, and the way that the Witness punished her was by forcing her to stand by and watch as her House- full of the people that she swore to protect- got either turned into Wrathborn or Scorn. Mara Fucking Sov confirmed that for us. Eramis had almost no agency under the Witness, and what little she did have, she turned towards helping us, knowing that if she got caught, the consequences would be extreme.

Honestly, I think that the only thing she really did horribly wrong on a personal level was opening the vex portal on her own people, but even then, that could be argued to have been done under duress. Eramis opened the portal after we killed her council (specifically with the intention of destabilizing her btw, as we know that she makes horrible decisions when she doesn't have anyone else to talk her down), in a last-ditch effort to destroy the Young Wolf. I don't count anything that happened under the Witness because nothing she did then could really be considered her own actions/intent, and I think it's really telling that the second she's out from under the Witness's control, her first action was to try to go home to her wife and kids. And then, when the Scorn started threatening her people, she gave that up as well so that she could call the Vanguard to help them. The Vanguard. The people who specifically sent out a strike team to kill all of her friends and break her House. She did all of this knowing that they would capture her and very likely kill her (actually, she's fully under the assumption that we're going to kill her, if you listen to her yapping in her cell), but that didn't matter to her. She had to get her people to safety, and she knew she couldn't do so herself, so she did everything she can to prevent that, even though it meant putting her life and her pride on the line. Sure, she's been suicidally depressed since Plunder, but that doesn't diminish the sacrifice she made in the slightest

Eramis was never selfish. She's right up there with Misraaks in terms of being an extremely selfless, caring leader who'd do anything for her people. It's just that she's not being nice about it to coddle to human empathy, which, given the track record of horrible shit that we've done to her people, we really shouldn't expect from her anyways.

I want everyone who continues to claim that Eramis was in line to be a disciple of the Witness to shut the fuck up and give me 500 dollars right the fuck now btw. These are not the words of someone who was en route to becoming a disciple, aka the most selfish entity of their entire race. These are the words of someone who genuinely does not think she has any worth left in her, but is still fighting because the alternative is that people she cares about will die. Literal opposite of selfishness right here

[novaursa]

To Hold Back The Night

- Summary: The Stranger was a familiar companion for you. And Jace decides to hold your hand while you dream of death.

- Paring: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Everybody dies.

They call it “living,” but in truth, it’s just dying slowly, one breath at a time. You know this because you see it—every death, every scream, every fire-laced ruin. You die each time your eyelids close. You dream, not of soaring, nor of love, nor even of warmth, but of endings. And though you live now, you have died before. You died even before you were born. And you will die again and again, caught in this endless cycle of death and rebirth, trapped in the web of time’s cruelty, a flame only destined to burn itself out.

Tonight, you stand alone on the balcony, looking out at the angry, storm-tossed sea. The storm rages above Dragonstone, a swirling cauldron of lightning and dark clouds, and it feels like a heartbeat—a pulse of wrath in the sky, matching the fury in your dreams. You think of your brothers, each bound to a fate you cannot change.

Jacaerys—the one they call “the Heir,” the one with a fire so fierce it rivals your mother’s, fierce enough to drown even the dreams that haunt you. You see him, armored and cloaked in the colors of your house, riding Vermax into battle. The flames lick at his heels, the heat of dragonfire tearing the sky as he fights against that which cannot be bested. And then, there is nothing. Just silence and ashes, his face turned to the cold earth, eyes empty, his crown no more than a twisted thing in the mud.

And Lucerys. Sweet Luke, with his gentle laughter and kind eyes. You feel his fear as he faces a darkness far greater than any he could’ve imagined. Vhagar’s shadow, vast and relentless, looms over him in your visions. You hear the thunderous beat of her wings, and you feel his last breath, the weight of that terror as he is torn from the sky and cast down into the churning waters below. The waves swallow him, and he is gone, just like that, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a laugh.

Little Joffrey, too young to understand, too young to dream of anything but glory and warmth. He laughs at death as a child would, thinking himself invincible. But you see him surrounded by blood and smoke, his cries lost in the thunder of battle, his body colliding to the ground so fast it doesn't even make the sound once he hits the ground. His death is swift, brutal, the life draining from him with the innocence of his last smile.

Your mother… Rhaenyra, who burns with a fierce love for all of you, so certain that she can shield you all from the flames. But in the end, it is she who stands alone against a tide of betrayal, against the very people she once trusted. You see her, wounded and broken, betrayed by kin and throne alike. They strip her dignity, casting her aside as if she were nothing. And there, in the depths of Dragonstone, in the shadows where no light dares to reach, you see her final moments—a proud queen brought low, left to die in a darkness so deep it seems to swallow even the flame in her eyes.

You breathe, slow and trembling, as you feel each death, as real as if it were your own. Each night, the dreams claim you, binding you to a fate you cannot escape. And though you dread them, you embrace them, too, for they are all you have of them when the waking world fails to provide comfort.

“Do you think I am mad?” you whisper to the storm, letting the words vanish into the roaring winds. The heavens offer no answer, only a fresh burst of lightning, illuminating the dark waves below.

“She would say so,” you murmur, thinking of your mother’s worried glances, the way she would press her hand to your forehead, checking for fevers that were never there. “Or maybe it is the gods’ cruelty, a torment meant for those born under the shadow of dragons.”

You do not hear the door open, nor the footsteps drawing closer, but suddenly, there is a warmth behind you, a familiar presence.

“Y/N.”

His voice is soft, yet it holds that quiet strength you have always known, a steadying force amid the storms that plague your mind. Jacaerys steps closer, his hand gentle as it finds yours, fingers warm against the cold that has seeped into your skin. “Come back inside. You’ll freeze out here.”

You shake your head, your gaze still locked on the storm-tossed horizon. “I… can’t, Jace. Every time I close my eyes, I see it—all of it. How it ends. How you die. How Mother dies. How… I die, too.” The words spill from your lips, raw and unbidden, the pain of it gnawing at your chest.

His grip on your hand tightens, a gentle anchor pulling you back. “Then don’t close your eyes,” he whispers. “Stay here, with me.”

You turn, finally, meeting his gaze. His face is etched with worry, his dark eyes searching yours with a desperation that tugs at your heart. He brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek in a tender gesture that speaks of years of unspoken promises.

“You aren’t alone in this,” he says softly. “Whatever it is you see, whatever you fight against, I will be right by your side.”

Jacaerys found his mother in the solar, a fire crackling in the hearth as she poured over letters and maps by candlelight. Her brows were drawn tight in concentration, shadows dancing across her face, making her look older, wearier, though her fierce beauty still shone through. When she saw him lingering in the doorway, her expression softened.

“Jace,” Rhaenyra said, gesturing for him to come closer. “What troubles you? I can see it in your eyes.”

He stepped forward, closing the door behind him to ensure they were alone. He hesitated, the words feeling heavy on his tongue, tangled with worry and fear. “It’s… it’s Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter than he’d intended.

Rhaenyra’s gaze sharpened, concern flickering over her face. “What of her?”

Jacaerys sighed, running a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as he tried to find the right words. “She… she’s not well, Mother. The dreams… they’re getting worse. She can’t sleep without seeing death. She told me last night she sees us all… dying, over and over. She’s haunted by it.”

Rhaenyra’s face tightened, the lines of worry deepening. “I know. I’ve seen it too, Jace. The way she wanders, the darkness under her eyes… her heart is burdened with things even I can’t understand.” Her voice grew softer, almost mournful. “I wish I could reach her, soothe her fears, but she holds it all so close. It’s as if she’s bearing the weight of the realm alone.”

Jacaerys clenched his fists, his frustration evident. “She shouldn’t have to, Mother. I can’t bear to see her suffer like this. Last night, I found her standing on the balcony, drenched by the rain, staring out as if she were ready to throw herself to the waves.” He swallowed, his voice catching. “And I know… I know it won’t end if something doesn’t change.”

Rhaenyra looked at him, her expression unreadable. “What would you have me do, Jace? I’ve done all I can to help her, to comfort her.”

Jacaerys took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Let me marry her.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, a sharp intake of breath escaping her. “Jacaerys… are you certain? This is not a simple choice. And that path carries its own burdens.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice firm. “But I love her, Mother. And I believe… I believe she needs someone who can be there, always, to help her bear the dreams, to remind her that she isn’t alone. I can do that. I want to do that.”

Rhaenyra studied him, her expression thoughtful, though there was a hint of pain in her gaze. “You think marriage will save her?”

“I don’t know if it will save her,” he admitted, his voice breaking with the weight of his helplessness. “But I can try to give her something solid, something real to hold onto. Every day, I see her slipping further away, lost to those visions, and it’s like watching a flame gutter in the wind. If there’s a chance—if there’s anything I can do to keep her with us, I’ll do it.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers tapped softly against the table, her own gaze turning inward as she considered his words. “When she was born,” she said quietly, “she was small and frail. The maesters doubted she would survive, but I held her close and willed her to live, every night praying that she would see another day.” Her voice trembled slightly. “And now, after all this… I fear she carries a burden I cannot lift. I see her suffering, and I know the pain it causes you. I feel it too.”

“Then let me be the one to help her,” Jacaerys pleaded. “Let me share that burden. Maybe, if she knows she isn’t alone, if she has someone who understands, it might ease the darkness.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, her maternal love evident. “You truly love her, don’t you?”

“With all my heart,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I would do anything for her.”

She sighed, looking at him with both pride and sorrow. “You are more like your father than you know, Jace. Brave and loyal to a fault. If you believe this is the path, if you think it will bring her peace… then I will not stand in your way.”

Relief washed over him, and he reached out to grasp her hand. “Thank you, Mother. I will not fail her.”

Rhaenyra squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “See to it that you don’t. Our family has already seen too much pain, too much loss. I cannot bear to lose either of you.”

Jacaerys nodded, a fierce determination settling in his heart. He would stand by his sister, would anchor her against the currents that sought to pull her under. And perhaps, together, they could find a way to break free from the nightmares that bound her.

As he left the room, he felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. But in his heart, there was a flicker of hope. He would find a way to reach her, to draw her back from the brink.

And he would never let her go.

The morning sun crept through the windows of your chamber. You lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, caught between sleep and waking, lingering in the half-light where dreams clung to you like shadows. Every breath felt weighted, every beat of your heart like the tolling of some distant bell. The visions had come again, the same as they always did—death and fire and faces you loved slipping away into the dark.

The door creaked open, and you felt a presence fill the room before you saw him. You knew it was Jace. There was a warmth, a steady strength in the air that belonged only to him.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, hesitant, as though he feared disturbing you.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. There was worry in his dark eyes, the kind that lingered even when he smiled, though his lips trembled in a faint, hopeful curve. He stepped closer, and you felt his warmth, his hand reaching out but stopping short, hovering as if uncertain.

“Are you… feeling any better?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You gave a faint, humorless smile. “Better? I think that word doesn’t mean much to me anymore, Jace.” Your voice sounded distant, hollow, as though it were echoing from somewhere deep within you. “The dreams never stop. Every night, they grow sharper, more vivid. And I… I am powerless against them.”

Jace’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, he knelt beside your bed, looking up at you with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“Y/N, there’s… there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I spoke with Mother.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, knowing the weight of his words before he even said them. His gaze softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours in a touch that was both warm and hesitant, as though he feared you might vanish.

“We are to be married,” he said quietly, watching your reaction, his eyes searching for something—hope, perhaps, or at least acceptance.

You felt a strange stillness settle over you, a quiet that almost numbed the words. You knew his intentions, the depth of his care, the fierce way he held on to hope. But you also knew the truth—the truth the dreams had shown you time and again. You let your fingers slip away from his, folding your hands in your lap as you looked down, avoiding his gaze.

“That shouldn’t happen,” you murmured, a hollow note in your voice.

He looked taken aback, hurt flashing across his face. “Why? Y/N, I… I love you. I want to help you, to share this burden, to remind you that you’re not alone.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of those dreams settle heavily upon you once more. “Jace, every time I close my eyes, I see death. Our family is crumbling, falling to ruin, and I see myself at the center of it all. How can you say you love me when I bring only suffering?”

His hands reached for yours again, stronger this time, refusing to let go. “You don’t bring suffering, Y/N. You are suffering alone, and I can’t bear it.” His voice broke slightly, and you could see the raw emotion shimmering in his eyes. “You don’t deserve to carry this alone. Let me be there with you, through whatever comes.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard as you pulled your hands free from his grasp. “No, Jace. Don’t you understand? In my dreams, I see you die, over and over. I see you fall, burning. If we marry, I will only draw you closer to that fate. I… I cannot do that to you.”

He leaned forward, capturing your gaze with a fierce determination. “Then let me die by your side, if that is what fate holds,” he said, his voice a low, steady murmur. “If the future is as dark as you say, then I’d rather face it with you than run from it alone. Let me be the one to stand beside you, whatever may come.”

Your throat tightened, words tangling in a knot of fear and longing. “Jace… you don’t know what you’re asking. You don’t know what I’ve seen. I am haunted, every moment, every breath. There is a darkness around me that you cannot see.”

“I see you,” he whispered, his voice rough and resolute. “And that is enough.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and he reached up to brush it away, his touch warm and gentle, like the promise of sunlight breaking through clouds. “Please, Y/N. Don’t push me away. Let me be here with you, let me share the burden.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to hope, to think that perhaps his love could be enough to shield you, that perhaps this weight could be lightened. But then the visions surfaced again, sharp and unyielding, and you saw it once more—Jace, falling, burning, slipping from your grasp as fate tore him away.

“No, Jace,” you whispered, voice trembling as you pulled back. “It would be selfish of me. I can’t… I can’t be the reason you suffer, the reason you fall.”

He shook his head, frustration and love warring in his gaze. “Y/N, this isn’t just about you. This is about us. Don’t you understand? I would rather suffer by your side than live without you.”

The silence between you was thick, filled with all the unspoken fears and dreams, the shadows of what could be and what would never come to pass. Finally, you turned away, the words barely escaping your lips.

“If you marry me, you will only bring the end closer.”

He rose to his feet, standing over you, his hand still hovering as if he wanted to touch you but feared you would slip away. “Then let it come,” he murmured. “Let the end come, if that is what it means to love you. But I will not turn away, Y/N. I will not abandon you to the dark.”

A part of you wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into his embrace and allow him to bear the weight of your pain. But you knew, deep down, that the darkness within you was a burden only you could carry.

“Then we will face it as one,” he whispered, determination firm in his gaze, as if he could will away your fears by sheer force of love. “Even if it means standing in the fire.”

And though a part of you wanted to protest, to argue, you felt yourself soften, your heart stirring with a fragile, flickering hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could stand beside him in the dark. Perhaps, with him, the dreams would loosen their hold, and you could find a measure of peace.

But the shadows lingered, and even as he held you, the visions danced on the edge of your mind, whispering that love was just another kind of flame, destined to burn out.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴛ ʏ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴛ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere HOTD x Targaryen Reader Part 2

Summary: After your mother's death, your life wasn't the same anymore. Everything was changing so fast and you were just watching.

Warning: Y/n herself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Gifs don't belong to me, credit to the owner. Hope you enjoy!

The air felt cool against her damp skin as she stood in front of the window, watching the distant glow of King's Landing beneath the night sky. Her body was still warm from the bath, the steam lingering in the room as it slowly dissipated, leaving behind the soft scent of lavender and rosewater.

She let her fingers trace the edges of the windowpane, feeling the cold, hard glass beneath her fingertips. It was quiet tonight—eerily so. The usual sounds of the city seemed muted, as if the world outside had gone still, holding its breath.

Her handmaid, Elira, stood behind her, gently brushing through her wet hair. The familiar rhythm of the bristles moving through her locks was soothing, almost meditative. Elira had always been there. Since the very beginning. They were the same age, but Elira had always known her place—quiet, loyal, obedient. Always there, always in the background, never faltering.

"It still hurts, you know... losing her." She spoke softly, her voice almost a whisper, more to herself than to Elira. She stared out into the dark horizon, her eyes distant. "Mother was... everything. The only person who truly knew me."

Elira didn't respond—she never did when it came to such things. She just kept brushing her hair, silent, attentive, like the shadow she had always been.

The ache in her chest intensified, a dull, ever-present throb that threatened to consume her. Who’s going to love me now? Her mother had been everything. The one person who had always been kind, always been gentle. And now, she was gone. The gods, if they even existed, had taken her away. Not just her mother, but her newborn brother as well.

Y/n blinked slowly, her eyes burning. Why did they take them? What kind of gods would do this? Why leave me behind with nothing? She couldn’t understand it, couldn’t process the emptiness that had swallowed her whole since that day. The pain was constant, gnawing at her insides like a beast that wouldn’t stop.

She hadn’t left this room since they told her. She hadn’t gone to the funeral. What would be the point? Rhaenyra had been the one to carry their mother’s body. She could have done that too. She could have honored her mother, but what was the point when she wasn’t even here? She was dead. Dead.

Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into the sensation of the brush moving through her hair. "I loved her. I always did... I was kind to her, wasn't I?" The words felt heavy on her tongue, as if she were asking herself more than Elira. She knew the answer already. She had been kind. She had been gentle.

She sighed softly, her breath fogging the glass in front of her as her thoughts drifted. It was supposed to be a boy. A brother. I would’ve been kind to him too. She had already chosen the Dreamfyre egg for him, already imagined what he would look like with his silver hair and violet eyes.

But now... there was no brother. No mother. Just silence.

Suddenly, a sharp tug at her scalp broke through her thoughts, jolting her back to the present. She flinched slightly, her eyes narrowing as she turned her head just enough to glance at Elira.

"I'm so sorry, princess! Please forgive me!" Elira’s voice trembled, her hands shaking as she quickly let go of the brush, dropping it to the floor. She fell to her knees, her head bowed low, not daring to look up at Y/n. "Please, forgive me, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t... please, please, forgive me..."

Y/n stared down at her, unblinking, her mind oddly blank. Elira had always been loyal. She had always done what she was told. And now here she was, groveling on the floor, begging for forgiveness over a simple tug of hair. It was... pathetic.

But she didn’t feel angry. She didn’t feel anything.

"It's alright," she said calmly, her voice soft but devoid of emotion. "You can continue."

Elira hesitated for a moment, her hands still trembling as she slowly picked up the brush again, standing on shaky legs. She resumed her task, this time more careful, her movements slower, more deliberate.

Y/n turned back to the window, her gaze distant once more, her mind drifting in and out of the haze that had settled over her ever since her mother’s death. She could still hear Elira sniffling softly behind her, no doubt still terrified of making another mistake.

It’s fine, she told herself. She’s always been like this. Always afraid. Always apologizing. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

She closed her eyes again, her fingers tracing the cool glass once more, feeling the chill seep into her skin.

“I made a decision,” Viserys looked between his daughters. “I have chosen to name Rhaenyra as my heir.”

The words hit her like a wave of ice-cold water, freezing her smile in place. Wait… what? Her mind stumbled, struggling to make sense of the words. Rhaenyra? She blinked, willing herself to understand, to hear something else, but the reality pressed on her, unyielding.

“That’s… great, Father!” she managed, her voice tight and bright. Her lips twitched, and somehow, she forced them into a smile. She clasped her hands in front of her, feeling them shake, the tremors threatening to give her away. Hold it together, she thought desperately, teeth gritted behind her smile. Don’t let them see. Don’t let them see.

A cacophony of voices began to rise within her, whispering, hissing, each word cutting into her like a thousand small blades. Weak… pathetic… that’s what you are.

Her nails dug into her palms as she continued to hold her smile. No, I’m not weak… he just doesn’t see my worth yet. He doesn’t understand. But he will, he will…

That’s why Father chose her, isn’t it? Because you’re useless. Because you’re nothing.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry, and glanced sideways at Rhaenyra, who was watching her with a mixture of pride and hesitance. Rhaenyra, the golden girl. Rhaenyra, the heir. Rhaenyra… the one Father loves. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she forced herself to keep smiling, her jaw aching from the strain.

Of course he doesn’t love you, they continued. Why would he? You’re not what he wanted. You’re just a mistake, a failure, a useless little girl who couldn’t be more than a shadow.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat like a drum in her ears. She felt hollow, as if she were disappearing from within, crumbling like ash. I’m not useless, I’m not… But they laughed, drowning her, making it impossible to think.

Look at him. Look at how he looks at her. Do you see that warmth in his eyes? He has never looked at you like that. He never will.

Her hands were trembling openly now, and she clasped them tighter, willing herself to stop, to silence the whirlwind inside her. I am more than this, she thought, but the words felt empty, like something fragile that could shatter with a single breath. She lifted her gaze to her father, but his expression was unchanged, his eyes full of pride—for Rhaenyra.

That’s all you are, isn’t it? A disappointment. A shadow, unwanted and unloved.

Her head swam, and she could barely hear anything beyond the mocking laughter echoing in her mind. But she kept smiling, the mask she wore cracking at the edges, her heart sinking with each passing second. You're wrong. You're wrong about me. Father does love me… he has to…

“Are you all right?” Viserys asked, frowning slightly.

The words jolted her back to the room, and she forced herself to nod, ignoring the way her throat tightened. “Yes, Father,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She wanted to scream, to cry, to tear down everything around her, but instead, she turned to leave, her face carefully blank.

As she walked away, the voices clawed at her, unrelenting, ruthless.

Useless. Unwanted. Weak. That’s why he chose her. That’s why he’ll always choose her. Because you will never be enough.

It's finally over. It had been a long day, a day that had dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Today Rhaenyra had been named heir to the Iron Throne and she had to bow before her.

As she walked, Elira, kept a respectful distance behind her, her soft footsteps barely audible. The quiet murmur of the castle, usually so comforting to Y/n, only seemed to intensify the ache in her chest. She quickened her pace, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor as the thoughts spiraled deeper. Why her? Why not me?

"Thanks the gods it's Princess Rhaenyra,"

Y/n froze, her entire body stiffening as she heard the words. Her mind raced, and her steps slowed, her breath catching. She looked around the corner, and saw a small group of servants standing near a doorway, talking among themselves. Her gaze narrowed as she caught the full statement.

"Ah, yes, I'm really thankful the King didn’t choose that mad cunt," one of them laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that made her skin crawl.

"What did you say?"

They immediately froze when they heard her, their faces draining of color. She could hear their frantic whispers, the way their voices faltered in fear. One of them, took a hesitant step backward.

The servants' eyes widened, and they all started stammering apologies, their words tangled together in a rush of panic.

"Please, my lady, we meant no harm, we were just—"

"We were just talking, milady. Please forgive us—"

"Please don’t—"

Her eyes locked onto the boy who had spoken the words. He looked terrified now, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear. She took a step forward, the rage bubbling over, her movements fluid and quick as she closed the distance between them. The boy shrank back, but it was too late.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Y/n half-yelled, her voice a venomous hiss. Everything that had been building inside her—the anger, the hurt, the rejection—came flooding out in a violent, unstoppable wave.

The servants froze, some of them taking instinctive steps back, but they couldn’t escape.

Before the boy could even react, Y/n was on him, her hands grabbing his hair. With a sickening crack, she slammed his skull against the stone wall. She didn’t even register the impact at first, her vision turning red as the anger clouded her thoughts. She did it again. And again. And again.

The sound of his skull crashing against the stone echoed in her ears, drowning out everything else. She didn’t hear the cries, the pleading, the desperate sobs. She didn’t hear Elira begging her to stop, her voice barely cutting through the haze of fury.

"Stop! Please! Stop!" Elira cried, her voice high with fear, but Y/n was beyond reason now. She could feel the boy’s head break beneath her hands, could feel the blood running down her fingers. The sound of his sobs, his frantic begging, only drove her further into madness.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, it was over. She stood there, panting, her breath ragged as she stared down at the boy’s lifeless body. His head was a mangled mess, blood seeping out from the cracks in his skull. Her hands were slick with it, the red staining her fingers, her palms.

She blinked, coming back to herself slowly. The haze began to clear. She looked down at the body, her heart still racing, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Her chest heaved, and for a moment, she could barely comprehend what had just happened. She didn’t even remember how she’d gotten here, or how many times she’d struck him.

He’s dead.

The thought hit her like a punch to the gut. Her heart sank, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface, still clawing at her insides. She turned to look around at the others—the servants were trembling, staring at her in horror, their faces pale and filled with fear.

Why... Why they are looking at me like this?

Y/n glanced down at her dress, now soaked in blood. It was one of her favorites. She frowned as she looked at the deep red stains, the fabric ruined. What a pity.

With a deep sigh, she straightened up, her anger beginning to ebb, leaving a hollow emptiness behind. Her voice was calm, too calm, as she turned to the servants. “Clean this mess up,” she ordered, her voice flat. “And make sure no one finds out about it.”

She didn’t care how they did it, just as long as it was done. She turned to Elira, her voice still controlled, though her emotions were a mess inside her. “Prepare the bath for me,” she said softly, almost pitiful. “I need to wash.”

As she walked away, Elira hesitated for a moment before following her. The others remained rooted to the spot, too afraid to move. Y/n walked through the hallways, the blood drying on her hands, her mind drifting in a haze of confusion and sadness.

I’m so tired. The thought came suddenly, washing over her like a wave. She let out a breath, shaking her head slightly.

But as she entered her chambers, she start thinking about the scene she left behind. The servants would clean it. They always did. But they would never forget. And neither would she.

With that, she closed the door behind her, her thoughts already shifting again, the sadness creeping back in.

"The realm will never accept a woman as their ruler," Rhaenys muttered, her voice laced with the bitterness that always seemed to cloud her words when the topic of succession arose.

Y/n tilted her head and nodded, the movement slow, almost sympathetic. Oh, how tragic, she thought, her lips curling into a faint smirk. All this whining and hand-wringing. Pathetic.

She softened her features, arranging her face into what she imagined looked like mild concern. "Tragic, isn’t it?" she said, her voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed sarcasm that neither of them seemed to catch.

"When I am queen I will create a new order," Rhaenyra said, her tone defiant, her chin lifted as though challenging the world to disagree.

Yes, yes, Rhaenyra, I’m sure you would be a shining example of wisdom and diplomacy, Y/n thought, fighting back a laugh. Keep dreaming.

"Of course you would, dear sister," Y/n replied smoothly, giving a slight, dismissive nod. "The realm would be lucky to have you."

Rhaenys glanced at her, as if sizing her up, before letting out a low, sardonic chuckle. "Men would sooner burn the kingdom than let a woman sit on the throne," she said, a bitter truth in her words that, for some reason, still failed to resonate with Y/n. Power wasn’t something one was given—it was taken. And anyone too weak to seize it had no right to it in the first place.

She hid her thoughts behind a sip of wine, watching them both with a half-lidded gaze, letting their words drift over her like idle gossip. What a pair they are—one too proud to realize her limitations, the other too bitter to let go of her grievances.

"Oh, yes, a kingdom ablaze," Y/n murmured, feigning a wistful tone. "How poetic. Such a tragic tale, isn’t it?" She held out her glass, staring into the dark red liquid as if pondering something deeply moving, though in truth, she was only admiring the way the light caught the wine.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily. "They underestimate us. They see us as delicate things, fit only to be wives and mothers."

"Do they?" Y/n’s smile widened, an amused glint in her eyes. Oh, the endless suffering. Boo-hoo.

Rhaenys was watching her with an arched brow, clearly picking up on the subtle mockery in her tone. "You don’t seem very troubled by any of this, Y/n," she observed, almost as if accusing her.

Y/n shrugged, a slow, lazy movement that exuded indifference. "Oh, I am devastated, truly," she replied, the sarcasm practically dripping from her words. "What a tragic world we live in, where women like us must endure such indignities. Really, it’s heartbreaking."

Rhaenyra shot her a sharp look. "This isn’t a joke, Y/n."

"Of course not," Y/n replied, her voice smooth as silk, unfazed by her sister’s disapproval. "Nothing about any of this is funny." She took another sip, savoring the wine and the absurdity of it all. I should be the one that wear the crown, not you.

Then, as though the thought had only just occurred to her, she sighed and placed her empty goblet aside. "Ah, but I must take my leave, unfortunately." She glanced over at them, feigning a regretful expression. "I’ve a fitting to attend for my dress, you know, for Father’s wedding. It simply wouldn’t do to be unprepared for such an occasion."

The slight in her tone was subtle, but it was there, veiled in a pleasant smile. The wedding going to happen sooner or later. What a spectacle it would be. Their dear father, so desperate to secure his legacy that he’d wed a mere girl, and all to produce another heir—a boy, if the gods were willing, and if not… well, it hardly mattered to her.

"How dutiful of you," Rhaenys remarked, a hint of mockery in her voice. It was clear she saw through Y/n’s thin veneer of civility.

"Indeed." Y/n inclined her head, lips quirking in a smug smile. "After all, it’s so important to play our parts well, isn’t it?"

She glanced back at them one last time, giving them both a pointed look, her smile widening as she took in their earnest, troubled faces. "Farewell, then. Do enjoy your discussion. Such deep, meaningful words, truly," she said, voice dripping with false admiration as she turned on her heel, sauntering away without a second glance.

Y/n strode toward her father’s chambers, Ser Criston trailing like a shadow at her side. She had a perfectly charming smile painted on her lips until she came up short, blocked by two guards standing in front of the doors. Their hands gripped their spears, glancing at each other nervously before looking back at her.

“Step aside,” she said, voice a silky command.

The guards didn’t budge.

One of them, foolishly brave or utterly clueless, raised a hand. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the King has asked to not be disturbed.”

Her smile faltered, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You’re saying I can’t see my father?” Her voice was calm, almost amused. She tilted her head, letting her gaze drift over their faces with cold scrutiny. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

The guard stiffened, clearly feeling her gaze like a blade. “We have orders.”

She chuckled, the sound smooth as honey but laced with venom. “And do you have any idea what I could do to you for disobeying me?” She leaned in, voice dropping low. “I could have your tongues ripped out, have you hanging from the city walls by your intestines, all while you beg for mercy.” She smiled, sickly sweet. “Or perhaps I could just tell my father you disrespected his daughter.”

The guards flinched, glancing at each other but standing firm.

She clicked her tongue, gaze sharpening. “Perhaps I should have Ser Criston here peel the skin from your faces, inch by inch? How does that sound?”

Criston’s hand drifted to his sword, his eyes darkening in anger at their defiance. Before he could make a move, Otto appeared around the corner, striding toward them with his usual calm authority.

“Ah, my lord Hand,” Y/n said, smile widening as she turned toward Otto. She cast the guards one last look before redirecting her attention.

Otto looked at her and then at the guards, clearly sensing the tension in the air. “Is there a problem here, princess?” His voice was calm, as if he hadn’t just walked into a potential bloodbath.

She tilted her head, letting out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Oh, nothing major, Lord Hand,” she purred. “Just a minor misunderstanding. These men seem to think they have the right to keep me from my father’s chambers. Quite peculiar, don’t you think?” She cast a smug glance at the guards, watching as they shifted uncomfortably.

The guards started to speak up, but Y/n shot them a warning glare, silencing them immediately. “In fact, I’d say it was downright insulting.”

Otto nodded thoughtfully, his expression neutral. “Well, princess, your father is about to attend the small council meeting. I’ve come to fetch him myself.”

She clenched her jaw, an annoyed sigh slipping from her lips as she finally gave a small nod. Fucking cock suckers. But she kept her expression calm, respectful even. Otto had always been fond of her—treated her like one of his own, in a way. No need to break that little bond just yet.

“Very well,” she murmured, stepping back as she allowed Otto to enter. She watched him disappear into the chamber, then turned her gaze back toward the guards, her expression a warning that needed no words. They quickly looked away, pretending to be more interested in the floor.

Moments later, Otto returned with her father. Viserys offered her a faint, apologetic smile, but his focus seemed elsewhere, a bit distracted. Odd. Otto, too, seemed unusually composed, almost as if there was something else on his mind.

As they walked away, Y/n glanced toward the chamber doors, half-distracted, until she caught a flash of red hair in the corner of her vision. A woman’s figure seated on the edge of the bed—her father’s bed.

Her heart skipped a beat, eyes widening. She had to suppress a sudden laugh, biting her nails as her excitement bubbled up. Oh, now that’s just… delicious.

There’s no way… Is that…? Did Otto really…? Oh, you sly, clever old fox. So that’s why Father’s been so preoccupied. And here I thought he was just mourning my poor Mother.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Criston’s voice brought her back to the present. He glanced at her with concern.

She smiled at him, a flash of brightness that was all teeth. “I’m perfectly fine, Ser Criston,” she murmured, her gaze still lingering on that red hair. Alicent. The Hand’s sweet little daughter, warming dear Father’s bed where Mother once lay. Oh, it was almost poetic.

Without another word, she wrapped her arm around Criston’s, a little too tight, leading him away, her smile widening as her mind danced with happiness. The thrill of it all simmered under her skin, making her eyes glint with a mad sort of glee.

Oh, Rhaenyra… if only you knew. Your dear friend is right here, warming our father’s bed. Such a pity you don’t see it yet. Poor, poor little sister.

Criston glanced at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Is something the matter, my lady?”

“Nothing at all,” she purred, letting out a small laugh. “I’m just… happy, that’s all.”

As the small council convened, Viserys rose to his feet, his expression serious yet strained. She cast a brief glance at Rhaenyra beside her, who watched their father with rapt attention, completely unaware.

Don’t tell me Father’s actually going to—

“I have decided… I am to marry Lady Alicent Hightower.”

The silence that followed was exquisite. Y/n’s smirk widened as she glanced sideways at Rhaenyra, whose face had turned from shock to disbelief. Rhaenyra’s eyes met Y/n’s, wide and wounded, and in that brief exchange, Y/n’s smirk told her everything. Yes, dear sister, I knew. I knew before you did. And now… so do you.

Y/n’s gaze turned cold as she looked across the room at Corlys. He sat motionless for a moment, disbelief and anger barely concealed in his face as he processed what the King had just announced. She barely held back her sneer of disgust.

This pathetic man… offering up his child to this decrepit old fool just to worm his way closer to the throne. What a spineless little weasel. Tried to sell sweet Leana to Father… You’re nothing but a cock-sucking snake, Corlys.

Corlys’ face hardened. Offended, he shot Viserys a withering look before standing abruptly and leaving the room in silence. Y/n’s eyes followed him, the smirk still tugging at her lips. Good riddance, you worm.

Next to her, Rhaenyra had gone pale. She shot a look of absolute betrayal at Alicent, whose face was touched with guilt, as if she’d known this moment was coming yet hadn’t prepared for the sight of her friend’s hurt. Then turning on her heel and storming out.

Poor, naive Rhaenyra… How perfect, to have this all crumble around you while you stood unaware.

But Y/n stayed, savoring the stunned silence that filled the room, and then, without missing a beat, she plastered on her most sincere smile.

“Congratulations, Father!” she chimed, her voice warm as she moved toward Viserys.

Viserys let out a sigh, though a relieved one, as she embraced him, patting her arm gently. “Thank you, my dear,” he replied, clearly grateful for her support.

She released him, turning to Alicent, who was still wide-eyed, not quite sure what to make of the sudden affection Y/n was showing. She shifted uncomfortably as Y/n opened her arms to her.

“Alicent,” Y/n murmured, drawing her in with a tight embrace, voice sweet as honey. She leaned close to her ear, her words just barely audible to anyone but Alicent.

“Oh, Alicent,” she murmured into her ear, “I always knew you were a little whore.” She felt Alicent’s body stiffen, but she continued, undeterred. “You shouldn’t be so pleased with yourself—you’ve married my rotting father, after all.” She let out a mocking laugh, barely a whisper. “I can only imagine… his ‘crown jewels’ are as decrepit as the rest of him. But lucky you, you’re the perfect breeding mare, aren’t you? A nice, wet hole to keep his cock warm,” she added, voice dripping with contempt, “Every night you’ll lay with him, his decaying hands on you, his disgusting, rotting body. I’ll bet even his—” she sneered, “—cock is rotting.”

Alicent’s face flushed, her breath catching as she stood, stunned and trembling in Y/n’s arms. Y/n only smiled, tilting her head to kiss her on the cheek.

“I’m so happy for you, Mother,” she cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness.

Alicent, visibly shaken, managed a faltering smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you… daughter.”

Part 1

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[lookingforstupid]

I can relate to James, probably to a greater extent than most of the newer generation of the fanbase does, because I too have experienced caretaker’s fatigue and seen the shadow of depression.

My parents both got terribly sick almost around the same time a while ago, one with a fractured skull and potential brain damage, the other with a severe autoimmune disease that rendered her bedridden and gave her disfiguring skin lesions not unlike Mary’s in the game. I took extensive no-pay leaves from work to stay with them in the hospitals. Sitting on cold benches outside of the ICUs through seemingly endless winter nights, waiting and dreading to hear their names yelled out by the nurses on duty. I’d take a nap at 6am and wake up with a start at 10am. I ate instant noodles squatting outside of the ward. People joked that I looked 40 when I was only in my mid-20s.

While I never considered (or never dared to consider?) doing something as actively destructive as murdering them, I did, for several long moments, seriously ponder the possibility of running away and abandoning them. Leave them to their own devices. Death by passivity, if you will. I was young, broke, all alone, and I too wanted my so-called life - an abstract idea of being care-free - back, even though there would be no life worth living for me without the only people in this world who would ever love me unconditionally.

And looking back, I don’t actually feel ashamed for having these troubled thoughts, because it’s human nature. Unless you are dirty rich or have a social support system straight out of a Utopia, the constant grind, the exhaustion, the despair and the sword of Damocles hanging above your head will always get you in the end. Anyone who tells you otherwise is just lying.

So yeah, James’ story really hits close to home and he’ll never be just a black and white good guy/bad guy for me. I don’t condone the crime, but I understand the motivation.

[ferg0s]

Kunigami with a bookworm reader who he meet by accident but kinda starts to like after a while.

Pre wild card Kunigami cuz he’s bbygrl

Canonically has an older sister, I imagine her being an English major. Someone who got him into comic books In hopes of getting him into literature and that’s how he got his dream of being a hero-esque figure.

You’re her friend. A lil younger than her but the two of you met a book store and became friends after going for the same book, paid half and half and decided to take turns reading it and eventually made a lil book club to talk about said book.

Came back after practice to see you in the living room having tea with his sister, deep in conversation about the book in question.

Initially thought you were cute but out of respect for his sister he kept his distance.

Would say a polite hello and go to his room. Maybe come down to get some food, but even then, let the two of you talk without interruption.

You and his sister began to become closer, mostly due to your love for books. Coming together at their house to talk about the recent books you’ve read, but it slowly just began the two of you hanging out.

Kunigami knew of you; if he saw you at the house, in the living room or kitchen he wouldn’t blink twice. Initially thought you were his sisters classmate. but after talking to you when his sister asked him to walk you to the busstop cuz she didnt want you walk alone, he found out you were his age. you told him how you and his sister met, exchanged some friendly conversation and found out he was on the soccer team.

"yeah im a striker-" he said, looking at the path ahead. “Oh- that’s cool!” You reply. He knew that tone, the one his sister had - where they didn’t know what that meant but they were supportive. “It means I’m the guy who’s in charge of scoring the points-“ he adds. You nod. “I guess that’s very important,” you chuckle, looking at the ground.

Did you find his hot? Yes! Oh my god when he first walked in - you saw the resemblance right away - but the way his sister had described him you thought he was a toddler. I guess all older siblings do that, and they seemed to have a very close relationship. She still saw him as a child despite the fact that he was almost an adult. So when he walked in, holding his gym bag and greeted you, you tried to remain cool.

You weren’t the most social. So it was like fighting a life or death battle when he would come down to the kitchen while you and his sister were baking or making a quick snack. He was polite, always kept the conversation to a minimum before retreating to his room.

You wouldn’t dare let your cooler older friend know that you thought her brother was hot. But you figured that she had figured it out, she was very observant. So when you were getting ready to leave, saying your goodbyes, you froze up when you heard her call Kunigami to walk you to the stop.

You had walked there plenty of times, even later in the night in some cases. But she insisted that it would be safer for you to have someone to walk with. “There’s been an increase of muggings-“ she said. Conveniently leaving out the part that she was talking about the city and not their neighbour hood. Technically she wasn’t wrong?

Despite only talking to him a hand full of times, you felt pretty comfortable around him. He was polite. Asking the small talk questions that didn’t steer into anything awkward. Telling you about his games and such. He was a sweetie, which made your crush on him even more worse.

He was a gentleman. Waiting with you until your bus came, waving you goodbye as it departed. The one off thing soon became a regular occurrence, due to the insistence of his sister. He thought you were cute, but then again, he thought a lot of girls were cute. It was a given for guys his age. But the more he talked to you the more interested and invested he became. He was used to his sister going on tangents about books, passionately talking about every aspect of it - so he figured he’d do the same with you. Given you two had the same interests. It seemed to break you out of your quiet shell.

The walks began to consist of you describing your favourite books and stories to him. He was used to tuning it out and nodding his head. But something about you made him want to listen. “So he turns into a bug? Like a bug bit him? Like Spiderman?” He asked. You came to find out he liked spider man a lot. “No- he just woke up. It’s supposed to be a metaphor…”

But he really couldn’t keep up with the nuances of your literary likes, so he tried a different approach

“Do you like comics? Like marvel and stuff?” “Oh yeah- who doesn’t?”

His eyes lit up. Finally something he could relate too.

“Who’s your favourite super hero?” “Hmm… that’s a hard one.” You say as you look at him. “I like super man to be honest. It’s corny and lame but I like how he’s just this beacon of hope and just… nice? I don’t know how to say it. He could be evil but he just chooses to help people instead of like world domination-“ you explain. He smiled. “You know - i completely agree.”

Super heros became the things you talked about on your walks together. To a point where he genuinely waited for the sound of his sister door opening so he could rush out and get ready to walk with you. You looked forward to it too. He liked how you added a different perspective to it - digging in deep, finding the deeper meaning to each thing you two talked about. He felt a little embarrassed for saying he liked the hero’s cuz of their powers. But you didn’t seem to mind, smiling and telling him “me too,”.

For a while it seemed that the only thing the two of you talked about was that. He was happy - until he realized how rude it must seem. So he tried his best to steer the conversation to something that you might like.

Que him borrowing his sisters copy of the books you mentioned and trying to read them. It was the first time anytime anyone in his family saw him deeply invested in a book since… well… ever.

“So I read that book you talked about-“ he said as the two of you got out the house. “Oh? Which one?” You ask. When he told you the name of your favourite book, your stomach did a flip. “Y-you read that?” You asked uncertain. “Yeah - honestly I liked it.”

Que the whole walk being about said book, you talking with more passion than he had ever seen. To a point where the two of you watched the bus leave infront of you without caring, too engrossed in the conversation. Did you wait for the next bus - a full hour - on the steps of the nearby convenience store while sharing a bag of chips? Yes.

It seemed like the conversation had no end. Books, then his soccer, then back to books, somehow spider man, back to soccer. It was this chemistry that didn’t have an end.

Leading him to trying to slyly ask his sister if there was any bookstore cafes near by - and her happily giving an answer.

She didn’t question when you came over to visit, despite not making plans with her.

She didn’t question why he came up to her asking her if hard covers were better or soft covers.

______

Kunigami is a spider man fan. Thats not my head cannon, thats literally cannon. Argue with a wall.

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 6 EPISODE 08 || I AM NOT ALONE ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

Come. Mo chridhe. Lie down.

There's nothing else to do,is there?

Nothing else but wait.

I might say an Act of Contrition.

We did that always the night before a battle.

Just in case.

All right, then. Just in case.

Wait. You say it in French?

Aye. I was fightingwi' French mercenaries then.

I didna want to stand out.

I can say it in Gaelic or English if ye prefer.

English, please. Just this once.

 Oh, my God,

I am heartily sorry for offending Thee.

I detest all my sins for thy just punishments,

but most of all, my God, because they offend Thee.

My God who art all good and deserving of all my love.

How many times, would you say, have I come close to dying?

I don't know.

You were dreadfully ill at the abbey after Wentworth,

and after Culloden, you said you had a terrible fever from your wounds.

You thought you might die.

Only Jenny nursed you through it.

Hmm, forced me through it, more like.

Hmm.

That's when Laoghaire tried to k*ll you.

And you forced me through that.

And likewise when the snake bit me.

Do you count the shipwreck?

You almost died then, not me.

Very well, then. Have it your way.

Hmm.

Then, of course, there's your...

Back. Aye.

You're a hard man to k*ll, I think.

Hmm.

That brings me a great deal of comfort.

Dare I ask why you're bringing this up, though?

 I was thinking about France. A thing that happened to me.

There was an auld fortune teller reading palms.

She grabbed my hand

and spat into my palm

before I could object.

Bent so close,

I could smell the ancient sweat of her.

"T'es un chat, toi," she said.

She said you were a cat?

Mm-hmm.

I tried to pull away, but she held firm.

Then she said, "Neuf."

She said she saw the number nine

written in my hand...and also death.

Do you think you have nine lives?

I hope so.

I never thought that hearing a litany of your near-death experiences would bring me so much peace.

Or maybe it's just the nearness of you.

[vampworks]

In His Arms

Word count: 1.4k

Rafayel x GN reader( sylus mention)

Sylusx GN reader (zayne mention)

No use of y/n

Warnings: mentions of death, language, minimal angst, jealousy

Evening

My princess.

My beloved, my sun and stars above.

Oh, how the steady drum of my heart sings as it beats only for you.

Nothing but silk sheets and lace drapes over her dewy skin. Warmth practically glowing red in her cheeks. The crashing waves had finally lulled my dearest to rest after dragging me all over town. She had rambled on about weapons and plans she had made for us both. Maybe my taunts had really gone to her head. I said to never leave me behind again, I was joking but I’ll never complain.

I watched over her as she slept, old habits seeping to the surface once again. I listen out for the sound of guards coming to her rescue or only to be met with her phone’s chime. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding in. That murderer she called ‘Sylus’ would just have to wait. Perhaps he would have his turn like I did. She stirs beside me as if she could hear my contempt for the man.

Tired eyes slowly take her surroundings. I followed her gaze from scattered paintings, the setting sun, Reddy, and then up my chest to that one mole she insisted was “pretty”. I thought to tease her, but the words caught in my throat.

Those bright eyes finally meet mine with a divine beauty I’d never seen anywhere else. It was always quiet moments like this that reminded me why I made that promise so long ago. I’ve given up everything I’ve ever had to hold her in my arms. To know the warmth beneath her skin and feel of her touch.

I’d do it all again without a single thought. Back then, they called me a selfish and cruel creature. A monster made only with lust in the heart. I was to be their god, the one meant to protect them, and I betrayed my kind time and time again, for I am a beast of pleasure. Life after life, I would give my dying breath for the final taste of my beloved’s lips. The sun for a brush of her fingertips on mine. And the sea for the soft sting of her nails clawing my back.  If she wanted, I would become something truly awful. Lemuria be dammed if I get to spend my life wrapped in her embrace.

“Rafie?” My breath hitches like the sound of her voice beside me. Small, airy, weightless, as it sounds again. “You, ok?” She groans eyes squeezed shut again as her fingers rub against them. I silently pleaded to whatever was above that she’d look at me once more. Even for a moment.  “I’m dying.” She shuts up in an instant. Her tired eyes were now blown wide as she stared at me. It seems to grant my wish. Her eyes searched in a scattered frenzy for answers, only to receive a snort I couldn’t hide back. The girl beside me only falls back to my side with a long groan. Her head rests on my arm; it’s completely numb beneath her, but I don’t dare move it. “Raf, what’s wrong?” She repeats, this time, a bit stern. “I’m just wondering why my little bodyguard is crushing my poor arm.” I whine with a pout on my lips. Not my finest save, but it’ll do. She only grumbles and moves to straddle my waist. “Shut up, you know you love me,” her voice muffled as she nestled into the crook of my neck. More than you’ll ever know, my beloved bride.

Nightfall

My Goddess,

My solace,

Mine own heart, kindled spirits intertwined til the end of our eternity

I see her as she speeds towards my tower on my bike.

A beautiful sight I engross myself in even through a screen, the sound of pitiful old men with power complexes drowned out as noise to ignore. “You have somewhere better to be?” One of the men questions. Echos of my arrogance follow suit across the table. A few far too busy drinking themselves stupid to care.

The so called leader's words are ever as pompous as him. “You underestimate me if you think I’ll just fade away.” With a wave of my hand, he does just that with a shrill scream that lasts far too long. “The rest of you are dismissed. You know what I want. Handle it.” I command, already out of the dining hall.

30 minutes later, Mephisto announces her arrival. The camera in the elevator shows her disheveled uniform and angered features. A lesser man would see a deadly combination that would be his downfall in her stride, but not I. That little hunter stomping through these halls meant life had begun again. Everything I had built and torn down finally had meaning once more. This would be a fun night after all. I positioned myself in the lounge with one of her favorite records placed neatly on the dial, a bottle of wine, and dinner on its way from the kitchen. And finally, a book in my hand appears busy. Can’t have her thinking I plan my time for her. Oh no, never that.

Page 1, “the art of engineering and robotics in nature. Chapter 1, in order to begin the fascinating journey in technology one must learn the world of nature first. From the sights, textures, and of course the wonderous sounds to be- 3,2,1. “SYLUS!” I struggled to contain my smile as she calls out my name as if calling down a child for discipline. The sound of her voice is lovely to my ears as it travels to find me. She continues to the many halls, announcing my crimes. “You really sent a thousand roses to Zayne’s office. And for what?!” she sounds from the bedroom. “The card said oops wrong address with a smiley face” she yells now in the hall. “A smiley face, Sylus!’’ She says as I watch her past by in the doorway only to double back.

Her narrow eyes met mine, finally locking on to her target in an instant. “Welcome in, sweetie. What brings you in this time of night?”  My voice honeyed as usual, a shit-eating grin plastered on and a snort choked down in my throat. "Ooh, you know what you did.” She said peering down at me.  “I couldn’t even have my appointment in there, no one could even move.”

“But Darling, you were not home to receive them. And isn’t it best when others see you receive flowers?” I ask as innocently as I can. The book is long forgotten as I pull her in my lap. She squirms but doesn’t struggle out of my hold. With a groan, she settles with her thighs straddling my own. “Yeah.” She muttered. “Mmm, what was that, kitten. I couldn’t quite hear.”  She whined and stuffed her head into my neck. I can feel her shoulders relax instantly as her arms wrap around me. “Yeah, all the nurses saw them all and got jealous. It was fun until I had to put them all in Zayne’s car.” The snort I was holding back finally escaped me. “My apologies, sweetie but the look on your faces were priceless.” She whines once more with a few blows to my shoulders.

"Stalker" she mutter just low enough for me to still hear. Guilty but she always seems benefit from it,anyway. The doctor can use a good reminder of my presence every now and then. Perhaps I didn't contain my thoughts well enough as the pride would soon sour within me.

“You know he’s a good man, right?” She says her voice is a bit hoarse but soft as always. “I love you both.” my smile falls and my eyes wander towards to record player. Suddenly it's become the most interesting thing in the room besides her anyway. The record I chose. It's starting to repeat, I should change it . The melody I once found comfort in was now taunting me. I could loose her.

I can't loose her. Anything else but not- “Sylus, I know what you’re thinking.” Wonderful because I don’t. He is great for her; he’s dedicated his entire life to her health and wellbeing. I should be fine with this.

I don’t share, I could though. For her. I did say she ought to have whatever little heart of hers desired. I’ll bite this bullet then; Zayne truly did have her heart first. She merely opened it for me as well. “It seems the competition for your affection has ended in a draw.” the usual bravado in my voice betrays me leaving me vulnerable. Raw and tender for her to control.

I always try to steel my composure under her gaze, but she sees right through me as usual. She draws in a deep breathe “Thank you; it means so much.’’ Her head rises again to lay soft kisses across my face. "Also,” she speaks between kisses. “Zayne”. Her words now sound just as honeyed as mine. “He said he’d rather be seduced with desserts,” She lays a final long kiss on my lips. “Rather than flowers, I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to remember my new friend’s favorites; he’ll adore me by the time I’m done with him.” I laugh, a blush surely staining my face. “That seems more like a threat, but I’ll take the risk and invite him to dinner with us tomorrow."

“All in good fun, kitten. A bet on my good behavior, perhaps?”

[alipeeps]

Episode 26

"We've caught the demon". Pretty fucking sure you haven't cos uhhh... she literally rocked up with an umbrella for Li Lun at the end of the last episode...

Mmm and if that *isn't* Ao Yin... is it another of Wen Zongyu's demon hybrids, that's been given the shapeshifting power?

(Ooooh and if that's the case, was that even Ao Yin that they went chasing after - that Chongwu camp pointed out? Or was it just their pet shapeshifter pretending to be her? And pointing her out was designed to make the gang chase off after her. Just another part of their plan to make sure Zhuo Yichen/Demon Hunting Bureau got villified/distrusted by the populace.

Called it.

Is she sitting up waiting for Zhuo Yichen to come home?

Oh give him a hug ffs, you both need it...

Meanwhile Zhao Yuanzhou is roaming the halls like a restless, lonely ghost...

Ugh the soft almost smile as he looks as Zhao Yuanzhou...

He wasn't prepared for that. And he also didn't want that - for Zhuo Yichen to have to have the experiences that would make him understand what it has been like for Zhao Yuanzhou.

Oh dang..

My fucking heart...

When the drama straight up goes "Found family? Hell yes. Explicitly yes. Yes."

But he still wants to die of course...

"Wo men yi qi"

Scuse me, officer? I need to report a crime? Yes, this show is trying to murder me.

Oh dang, Zhao Yuanzhou is now putting his coat round every member of his polycule, one by one...

Zhao Yuanzhou you are such a git. I love you.

Yeah he did... but you cut him off.

Shitttt this is too fucking tender. This is killing me.

OMG the camera acting as her POV and her glance drifting down to his neck...

I am dead. This is my ghost typing this.

Oooh I was literally just thinking last night.. they've fixed the baize token, surely they should make it a priority to restore the wilderness?

OMG it that Bai Jiu mama coming back to life?!!!

Holy shit after all the angst and pain of the previous episode, this one is like a fucking warm bath of emotion.

(Which almost certainly means the show is going to rip my heart out again VERY soon, right? Like they're doing this just to make it all the more painful when they reach into my chest and crush my very soul...)

Oh what the fuck?!!

Don't you fucking hurt my boy Ying Lei!! Don't you DARE!!

I thought you said it wasn't easy to break a mountain god's barrier, Ying Lei?!

Oooh was that Xiao Jiu's powder that slows down/weakens demons?

So he's bought the gang some extra time by slowing Li Lun down...

Well that certainly doesn't bode well...

Ooooh so if you had one wish Yichen, what would it be? Turn yourself human again... or save Zhao Yuanzhou....

Well shit.

(However, if there is no need to pursue them into the Bingyi Clan's forbidden area, then why the fuck did you rock up to pursue them in the first place, Li Lun?)

That sounds like a REALLY FUCKING BAD IDEA, Zhuo Yichen!!

You tell him, Wen Xiao! It's found FAMILY, Zhuo Yichen, not found I'mma-nobly-do-this-shit-all-on-my-own!

Well said Sijing.

Oh fuuuuuck. Zhao Yuanzhou. You're fucking killing me here!

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh

Oh god, and the way Wen Xiao immediately looks at Zhao Yuanzhuo with hope... like please, please say yes Zhao Yuanzhou, please say you'll live...

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK

He's spent so long seeking death... and he's willing to give that up.... because Zhuo Yuanzhou asked him to.

(Oh god, he's definitely going to die at the end, isn't he? It's going to destroy me)

Ha! Wen Xiao pulling rank on Zhuo Yichen! AND on Zhao Yuanzhou!

FUCK. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.

Oh fuck, is it Ying Long?!!

Oh fuck, one of them has to stay there?

Oh dang, it's asking him to sacrifice one of the team...

This is Zhuo Yichen you're dealing with here. If the choice is sacrifice one of his team or die himself (due to not fixing the Cloud Light Sword), then he'll choose to die himself. Every time.

Uhoh, it's trying to freeze all of you!

Ohhh the way he just so calmly and casually wraps his hand around Zhao Yuanzhou's hand to forestall his one word spell.

What do you think he's gonna do? He's gonna choose to sacrifice himself.

What the FUCK? He has pre-written goodbye letters to Wen Xiao?!!

This episode is destroying me. They are just constantly fucking verbalising their care and feelings for one another and... how... how am I supposed to just sit here and survive that?

Yesssss Zhao Yuanzhou....

But what's the point if they both die? Or is he trying to take Zhuo Yichen's place?

The fuuuuuuck what a visual!!

And after all that... they still don't even have the way to mend the sword? And who's gonna mend it anyway?!

Holy SHIT this episode was incredible and I am emotionally exhausted.

[belle-rosse]

Hi! i wanted to ask about ur thoughts on the part where jinx said "this wasnt supposed to happen" during the fight scene in the temple! Bc it seems to me some part of her hoped that vi wouldnt kill her and GOD it pains me!!!!

Hi!! Thanks for asking me about this bcs that scene has not left my mind since I first saw it but I just couldn’t put it into words!!!

Jinx has always viewed death as something good, a place where she and Vi can be together, an opportunity to become sisters again.

Part of this is also reflected in her suicide attempt (which nearly succeeded if Silco hadn’t interrupted) in s1x07, where she also sacrificed Ekko’s life. Jinx wants to die with someone she loves close to her.

Now, Jinx’s decision to use The Grey against Piltover happens after the events of s2x02, after she witnesses the brutality with which the enforcers terrorize Zaun with that very same gas. What hurts her the most is seeing that her sister is part of it.

When Jinx tells Sevika that she’s planning to finish what’s left of her family, she’s not referring to Vi; she’s referring to herself. In her eyes, she sees that Vi has completely given up on her, that her sister was Powder, not Jinx. It’s something she likely expected but never really admitted. After all, their last interaction was based on Vi trying to reach Powder one last time. But not this time. Vi won’t save her again. Jinx has to die.

The plan in the pipeworks in s2x03 is clearly another suicide attempt. The drawings on the pillars depicting her entire life, the collapse, one last threat to Piltover, “I’m glad it’s you, had to be you.” Jinx was saying goodbye. Vi had to kill her, and afterward, Sevika would activate the mechanism that would end her sister and Caitlyn as well. I don’t think she expected Vi not to kill her.

But there’s something new Jinx didn’t account for, someone, actually: Isha. The brave little girl who confronts the terrifying image of an enforcer (because in her eyes, not knowing who Vi is to Jinx, she only represents oppression) to defend her. Isha being caught in the eye of the storm, right where the wind would catch her if the mechanism is activated, triggers something in Jinx. A sense of protection, the same one her sister felt towards her when she was little.

It’s in that scene, when Isha clings to her and Jinx sees Vi, that she recognizes her older sister once more, realizing the uniform is just a ridiculous disguise and that there’s still compassion in her eyes. Vi, similarly, sees Jinx’s humanity and the figure of little Powder in another child.

Isha represents the lost innocence of both, and I would even dare say of Caitlyn as well. Isha doesn’t deserve to die. To me, when Jinx says “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she’s referring to Isha’s inevitable death for getting involved in the conflict, which is why, when Sevika activates the mechanism, her first instinct is to protect Isha from where the wind is blowing instead of letting herself die.

One last attempt to see if the bad luck that curses her name spares her this once, a desperate attempt, one she didn’t even expect, to prove that not everyone who gets too close to her has to die.

I hope that answers your question!! it’s a pretty long response, though 😭

[soft-cristobalite]

Watched arcane season 2 act 1, thought abt it, so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order. Obvious spoilers.

Also, i watched in dub. Important to know when i am quoting charaters + when i am talking about their tone.

Starting of with something that is directly affected by dub — ukrainian Jayce is my Jayce. Ppl said he sounded condesending while talking to Ekko — not. at. alllll. true for my Jayce. My Jayce sounded tired, emotionaly burn out. "You drink tea, Ekko?" said with no though to it, in a context of continues talking of "Haha do i live here? Hahah....... Do you guys want tea? Want some tea? I'll make tea. Do you drink tea, Ekko?". But d-dub is supposed to stay true to the original— I DONT CAREEE. I love my blorbo almost-himbo Jayce, never changing his characterisation in my mind.

And i will hold Jayce's hand when i say this — you were. Just so gay for like... Essentialy going "Are you okay? Good, good" to lady Mel Medarda HERSELF and then seeing Victor and losing your mind. Sprinting with him in your hands to your lab. LIVING in your lab to monitor him. I just... I get it, you don't have many friends. But like...... Really dude. Reaally.

Give Mel and Ekko thirty minutes. I promise you they would work it out. Eternal piece would be achieved.

I know there are a lot of different opinions regarding Caitlyn. I will not be explaining in-depts what i think about her acr, because a) who cares and b) i like to see her go cray-cray. But like — why isnt anybody exept for Vi attempting to stop her??? Like why is Jayce mourning Victor's twink death instead of, yk, stopping his childhood-best-friend-kinda-younger-sister from killing ppl of Zaun, the last thing Victor wants btw? She and Vi are twenty-ish — WHYYYY are they going through it by themselves??? Why doesnt baby yoda guy with German name that i dont dare to write trying to stop the daughtrer of his ex-collegue? He is 600 or something, im sure he could've come up with advice.

Cait pointing her gun at a child is terrifying, it opens up the possibilities of her going even more blinded with anger, doing even more horrific things, and Vi is right to try and stop her. However... I know damn right i would've believe her when she said she will not miss 😭 Every single time she fired her gun she was very precise. Even in that scene she aimed at the gun the girl was holding like two seconds ago and got a perfect. fucking. score. Like i dont remember her missing at all, actually.

"Ohhhhh you're gonnnaaa haaaaaattteeee Maddie after act two—" says who? On that note, i hope both Cait AND Vi will sleep with a few random people. Good for them. Let them try to forget about each other only to realise just how down bad they are for one another. Let the scenes of Cait and Maddie hooking up intertwine with Vi's one night stand.

"Maddie is just gonna be a victim of comander Cait :(((" and i do not have any thing to say to that — we dont yet KNOW what will happen — but I dont think Cait will try to manipulate her into this. I think Maddie will flirt a bit, Cait will try and seek salvage and vulnerability in someone, especially since she is now constantly in public's eye and needs to project hope™ and stoicism™. It will be a genuine attempt to move on — not anybody's fault she can't.

But oh god, oh goooddd i cant wait for Maddie to loose the spark in her eyes due to lesbian situationship.

[spiegelgestalt]

Vi stands for Violence

One of the more ironic things in Arcane is that Vi is running around everywhere judging because they are violent and mean and idk not good enough and she’s arguably one of the most violent characters and without a doubt one of the most destabilizing forces in the entire show. (Sorry Vi fans – I say this with love but homegirl is really kind of terrible).  And the reason for that is that Vi kinda wants to be a hero in the traditional sense. She wants to do everything on her own. She wants to defeat the bad guy. She wants to save the damsel in distress. And she wants everything to be black and white.  In a lot of shows she would have thrived. But she is sadly in a show which looks you straight in the eye and says: Wow you managed to beat Sevika up. Awesome! And now? How did this help anyone? Here the damsel in distress you were trying to save is beating you over the head with a stick. Such a nice Saloon western stand off and nothing changed. No one cheered. The day wasn’t saved.

Deeper analysis under the cut

Vi’s original sin is being unwilling to see the perspective of others. She’s the oldest. She knows best. You can see that in arc 1 in season 1. Milo was correct: powder wasn’t ready. Powder messed up. Vi didn’t want to hear it because she loves Powder and that’s why Powder isn’t allowed to be criticized until Vi explodes on her in the end of the third episode. And theres something interesting about the fact that Vi apparently can’t think of Powder as a flawed person – either all she does is understandable and excusable or she’s a terrible Jinx who needs to be punished/stopped/killed. And you see the signs early on. In the “enemy music video” you see Vi screaming at Powder and shoving her, you see it at the end of episode 3, and you now see it in action in arc 1 of season 2 – Jinx doesn’t have the attitude that Vi thinks Powder should have (i.e. siding with the enforcers/Piltover against Silco - why would she do that?; accepting Vi and being grateful that she’s back) Vi trys to pick up the status quo before Vanders death. Jinx wont let her. Jinx wants to have a conversation. Both her elaborate traps remind you of the past and they remind you of the fact that Vanders death happened. Vi sees them as slights against herself and not as conversation starters. Because that’s not something she wants to think about (and notice that her mind goes immediately to her abusive behavior; because those challenge her self concept as the hero of the story). She doesn't want to admit that Powder = Jinx = Powder. Because that would mean to accept shades of grey. It would mean letting go of her anger (or at least accepting her anger) and accept that stuff changed things are complicated and people are flawed.

And she does the same thing everywhere else:  Silco caused Vanders death – ergo Silco is the cause of all evil: he’s the cause for change, for drugs, for powder being weird, for Zaun not being what it once was, for her not having a place to come home to etc. etc. I

It's even more evident with Sevika. Many have noted that Sevika hasn't actually betrayed Vander but has acted in Zauns best interest. But Vi doesn't want to even think about it that way. Sevika's to blame for Vanders death. As is Silco. (as is Powder) I dare anyone to look me in the eye and tell me that Vi accomplished anything by fighting Sevika. That was pure lust for vengeance. Especially the second time. But she messes up the most with Jinx. I find it fascinating that after Sevika is defeated and Silco is gone all of Vis anger concentrates on Jinx who refuses to become her precious treasure who needs to be protected- ergo Powder must be dead. And I’d argue that Vi is in search of a Damsel in distress and she isn’t finding anyone. Ekko is the leader Vi wants to be, Caitlyn is becoming more dangerous to Zaun by the day (and refuses Vis council) and Jinx is Jinx. Add some real resentment over Vanders death that Vi hasn’t worked through yet and it kinda makes Vis action make sense. Especially when there’s a cute blonde enforcer who admires what Vi’s doing and thinks it’s heroic and great she beat up all the bad guys in Zaun.

And one more thing. Vis attachment to Caitlyn is very similar to Powders attachment to Silco (-the sexual attraction of course). Bear with me here: who’s the first person who showed Powder kindness after the disaster: Silco. Who’s the first person who showed Vi kindness: Caitlyn. Both are charismatic leaders and both are very close to the people who destroyed their families. Vi and Jinx are more similar than you might think.

[okalanissolis]

haha... wouldn't it be so funny if we find out oka is dating and he's just. not a short king.

[cyarskj1899]

ITS OVER FOR YOU BITCH

@AkademiksTV and I ain’t forgot about how you made light of child molestation while being loud and wrong about this song and for what? To defend your boyfriend/husband/c**k holster Drake who can also get the BTA treatment for being loud and wrong about this song like your creep towards underage teen girls and an alleged pedophile and you ride abuser peens like porn stars , I don’t need your Canadian butt talking about domestic violence or child molestation cause you don’t speak for the victims of either one

[hannibalismos-jaaneman]

is it just the cogs of my brain whirring wildly or was bedelia kinda sorta in love with hannibal too?

[happy-emmdings]

Give me a character that won’t hesitate to threaten a god or roll their eyes at infinitely powerful entities. Give me a character brave and foolish enough to stand up to fate and death itself. Honestly human hubris in the face of omnipotence is so sexy❤️

[ben-the-hyena]

James Cameron confirmed Jake Sully won't be the narrator anymore

I think it means what it means