#Our Lady of Thunder Candle

[angeltreasure]

[this-sapphic-paradise]

Prompt:

Rhaenyra tries to make up with an angry/jealous Alicent after Alicent found out/or saw them kiss

The cliffhanger

"You've summoned me, my queen?"

Despite the turmoil within her heart, Rhaenyra could not help but smile as she laid eyes on Mysaria.

Turning her eyes to the guards standing to each side of her lady, Rhaenyra ordered, "Leave us."

Both women stood still until the doors were shut and only then did Mysaria dare let a smile grace her lips.

"Is it war council you seek, my queen? Or does this concern the dowager queen?"

Rhaenyra found herself taken aback once more in less than two candle marks. "I fear you and Alicent might be conspiring against me." She said stupefied.

Taking note of the lack of real fear or accusation in Rhaenyra's tone and the fact that she was not back in a cell led Mysaria to safely wager the queen was merely jesting.

Chuckling, she made her way to Rhaenyra and gingerly rested their foreheads together for a few seconds before pulling back and saying, "There are storm clouds in your eyes, and your cheeks are the color of roses. I've only seen you like that once before." Mysaria smirked. "And if I'm not responsible for such a reaction, I can only assume she is the culprit."

"And that does not upset you?" Rhaenyra asked, looking at Mysaria like a lost pup.

"You might be blood of the dragon, but you are no beast to be claimed, my queen." Mysaria smiled, cupping Rhaenyra's cheek.

Leaning into the touch, Rhaenyra closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I do not wish to cause you more suffering. Either of you."

Smiling lovingly at Rhaenyra, Mysaria said softly, "And I believe you will never cause me true pain.

"The world is already hard enough as it is. If we are fortunate enough to find people who make our days better, why should we deny ourselves?"

Trusting Mysaria would never say things simply because she wished to hear them, Rhaenyra smiled before kissing her shyly.

[Later that day, after the sun had set]

The guards announced her, but Rhaenyra wished they had waited for Alicent’s permission before opening the chambers doors. She walked inside, feeling uncharacteristically out of depth—which reminded her of Alicent saying that whenever they were around each other she felt like a silly girl.

"I do not wish to speak with you."

Alicent had not bothered to turn away from the window to address her.

"Then I'm afraid I must command you to."

Swallowing her anger, Alicent turned around. Her face was perfectly stoic, her eyes looking through Rhaenyra instead of at her.

"As my queen commands."

"Alicent..." Rhaenyra sighed and rubbed her face in frustration. Why was it so damned hard for the two of them to simply communicate?!

"Mysaria and I–"

"Spare me the sordid minutes of your sins."

"Seven hells, Alicent! Will you just listen?!?" Rhaenyra exclaimed, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

She stared at Alicent with wild eyes, frantically searching for any hint of a crack in Alicent's indifferent façade.

"I am trying to tell you... I'm trying to..." Rhaenyra's brows furrowed and her eyes turned pleading as she could not find words meaningful enough to expressed what needed to be said.

Worrying her lip, Rhaenyra pulled a piece of folded, worn paper from the wrist of her sleeve and gently placed it in Alicent’s hand.

Alicent did not need to unfold it to know what it was. That torn page had been her most prized possession for years before her father took it from her to use in a gambit.

She had considered the page gone. She was certain Rhaenyra had laughed in her father's face and shredded the flimsy paper into a thousand pieces...

"W-Why? Why did you keep it?" Alicent’s voice was but a whisper.

Rhaenyra looked down at their still joined hands. She dared caress Alicent’s fingers with her thumb as a little boyish smile tugged at her lips.

"The same reason why you kept it all those years."

Alicent felt the room spinning and her heart thundered in her ears as her mind tried to comprehend a reality where her feelings for Rhaenyra were not only known, but reciprocated.

"Please..." She grabbed at Rhaenyra's forearm to keep herself steady. "Do not fool me. Not about this..."

Noticing Alicent swaying, Rhaenyra firmly held her waist.

"I would never dream of it." She replied earnestly.

Alicent wanted—needed—so badly to give in to her secret wishes, but one thing kept her from doing so.

"W-What about her?"

Rhaenyra did not need Alicent to spell out who she was speaking of. With a blush coloring her cheeks, she said timidly, "Mysaria is aware. She says she wishes for us, all of us, to find solace where we can. That she does not wish to claim."

Alicent's mind filled with contradicting thoughts of passion and propriety, of defiance and resignation, bliss and damnation, jealousy and love. Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispered, "What if I do?"

Swallowing hard, Rhaenyra asked, needing clarification, "What if you do what, Alicent?"

With a shaky breath, Alicent gazed at Rhaenyra with the utmost look of vulnerability.

"What if I wish to be claimed?"

Rhaenyra's jaws clenched, her eyes became darker, and she stood taller. With fire behind her words and only Alicent in mind, she promised, "Then I will show you why I am the blood of the dragon."

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

warnings: Sihtric being a total cutie. That's it. That's the warning.

pairing: Sihtric x you (one-shot)

summary: You're a big wuss who is afraid of thunder, Sihtric is a big softie who is not afraid of thunder, and you think Sihtric is a big cutie. Which he is. Am I simping in the summary? Perhaps.

word count: 2,1k

You only had been part of Uhtred's crew for several weeks, as a healer, but Uhtred trusted you and his men had taken a quick liking of you. But maybe that was because you were the only woman there. You had already dismissed several advances from some of the men during your short time with them, mainly Finan was testing you. But it didn't bother you much, you knew he was joking.

The sun was setting and the sky was heavy and thick, with dark clouds. Uhtred and his small army of men had just finished setting up a camp for the night. Everyone was in good spirits after the victory of a battle near Defnascir, but most of the many men had already passed out, for it had been a rough battle.

You sat near the campfire, across from Sihtric and Osferth, and you looked up to the sky.

'Ay, looks like thunder is on the way.' Finan said, as he sat down beside you. You grimaced at him, and he let out a chuckle. 'Oi, what's the matter? Ye not scared, are ye?' he laughed and he gave you a little push.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, 'I am not very fond of thunder, no.'

Finan laughed, so did the two men sitting opposite of you. Then Uhtred joined and said, 'Oh, come on, leave her alone. We do not make fun of our own people.'

'True. Except for baby monk here,' Finan said, and grinned at Osferth.

'Except for baby monk,' Uhtred agreed, and you all laughed at Osferth's annoyed face.

The men quickly forgot about your fear, and you decided you wanted some rest. You said goodnight and made your way to your tent. 

Your tent was small, really only suitable for one person, but it was cosy and warm. Uhtred made sure you had the best furs to keep you warm during the nights. It may be summer, but the nights turned cold quickly. Before you drifted off, you heard the men outside tell jokes and laugh.

After a few hours your body jerked you awake. A loud, long and deep rumble went through the air and it made the ground beneath you vibrate.

'Oh, no,' you sighed, and seconds later your tent was lit up by the lightning in the sky. You quickly buried your head under your blanket and hugged the furs beneath you. You didn't know why you were so scared, but you hated it. You heard the sky was getting ready for another loud rumble, as it started off slow and far away. Quickly it grew louder and this time you heard it had awoken the others too, as you heard some men curse from their tents.

You closed your eyes, hoping it would be over soon, when you suddenly heard footsteps approaching. You looked up from beneath your blanket as someone quietly made his way into your tent. When the sky threw a massive strike of lighting down, your tent lit up and you got a quick glimpse of Sihtric.

'Sihtric?' you asked, a little spooked. You had helped him take care of his wounds several times already, even earlier that day when a wound above his eyebrow bled again, but beside a flirty comment he sometimes made, you had never really spoken much.

'What are you doing here?' you asked as you sat up, 'are you hurt?' And you quickly lit the small candle that was on a box next to where you slept.

'My lady,' he whispered, his voice making you feel somewhat dizzy, which caught you off guard. 'I do not mean to startle you,' he continued, 'I am not hurt, I think,' he paused as the candle dimly lit up the tent. 'I just wanted to make sure you were alright,' he said and he crouched down to you.

'What? Why? I mean… I, I don't understand.'

'The thunder,' he said softly, 'you said you were afraid of it.'

He brought his face closer to you, noticing there was not much space anyway. 'The rumbling woke me up, so I thought you'd be up as well,' he gave you a slight chuckle and looked down, hoping you couldn't see his flustered face.

'Oh, I… yes. It did wake me,' you stammered, equally as flustered. You never had a man alone with you in your tent before, and of all people, you had never even been really alone with Sihtric before. Then a low and deep sound emerged from the sky again, growing into a dramatic and long rumble. And without thinking, you had clasped onto Sihtric's shoulders, your hands firmly gripping his black fur cloak, as the earth beneath you seemed to shake to its core.

'I'm sorry,' you chuckled when you saw his soft face.

'Don't be,' Sihtric said compassionately, and he pulled you closer, just as lightning struck down somewhere close, erupting into a loud bang.

'I don't want to die,' you muttered under your breath as you tightly held onto him. Sihtric couldn't help but laugh, and hearing that sound was a comfort on its own.

'You're not going to die,' he smiled.

'How do you know? This weather is unpredictable. I just might.'

'No.' he said firmly.

'No?'

'No,' he repeated, 'because I won't let you.'

You felt flustered again and turned away.

'Okay, well, maybe,' you said, cheeks red, 'but I am tired.'

'Oh, of course. I didn't mean to keep you up,' he said, 'I just wanted to check on you. And, well, you're alive,' he chuckled, 'so I will let you sleep now.' He made an attempt to get up, but you quickly pulled his cloak.

'No, I didn't mean it like that,' you said softly, 'I mean, if you want… you could, you know, I mean I'd like it if you-' another rumbling through the sky interrupted you, and you accidentally pulled him closer.

'I think I'll stay,' Sihtric said with a smirk, 'but let me get more comfortable.' He gently moved back and took off his cloak, exposing his bare chest and arms to you. You didn't know where to look anymore. You had seen his arms when cleaning battle wounds, but you hadn't seen much else of him, and now he was here, wearing only some underwear. You choked on your saliva and awkwardly started to cough.

'Sorry,' you wheezed, 'I think I'm allergic to fur.'

Sihtric looked at you and raised an eyebrow.

'Hm, yes,' he smiled, going along with your lie, 'must be hard for you then, sleeping with all these furs around you,' and he moved one hand through the furs you slept on.

'...Yeah,' you murmured, and gave a fake cough.

Another heavy rumble sounded around you, and Sihtric's smile faded as he saw you were startled again.

'Come here,' he whispered. He pulled you towards him with one arm, still holding his cloak with the other, and carefully swapped places with you. He sat down on the furs which you had been sleeping on, only moments before.

He spread his legs as far as the tent allowed him, which wasn't far at all to be honest, but enough. He gently pulled you towards him, positioning you between his, you noticed, very muscular thighs, and he pulled your back against his chest.

He let out a soft, satisfying sigh as you fell back against him, and you felt his warm skin through your thin shirt. He threw his cloak over his legs and pulled it up to your arms, covering most of both your bodies. Then he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you tight as you flinched at the flashes of lightning outside the tent.

'Don't worry,' he whispered in your ear, his voice deep and sleepy, 'I'm here. You're safe, I promise.'

You didn't know what to say, so you simply thanked him, to which you felt him chuckle. He rested the side of his face against yours and moved his arms down, wrapping them around your waist. You let out a soft gasp as he gave you a gentle squeeze, making you both giggle.

'I guess you shouldn't tell Finan about this,' you joked.

'I am actually surprised he didn't check on you first,' he laughed, 'I guess he's not really that serious about you.'

'And you are?' you asked.

'What?'

'Serious? About me?'

Sihtric was quiet for a moment, allowing you both to hear the starting sound of rain outside.

'Sihtric?'

'Hm?' he murmured into your ear, making you feel weak and dizzy.

'Are you serious?'

'Would you mind if I was?' he asked quietly, and he moved his lips to your neck.

'I don't know,' you whispered. And then you felt his soft, warm lips place gentle kisses on your neck, and you moaned softly at the feeling. You felt his lips curl into a smile, and his arms around your waist tightened, as if you were his only belonging, and he was afraid you could be taken from him any second.

'Well,' he whispered, as he rested his face against yours again, 'then you'll have to think about that, before dawn arrives.'

'I might just do that,' you said, turning your body sideways against Sihtric's chest. He slowly lies down, keeping you close to his chest, and pulls his cloak up to your shoulders. And before you dozed off, you felt his fingers intertwined with yours.

When you woke up, Sihtric was gone. For a moment you thought it was just a dream, but as you sat up you noticed his cloak still covered you. You got dressed, folded his cloak and got out of your tent.

'Ah, there she is!' Finan called, 'did ya sleep, luv? Or did the big, bad thunder keep ye up?' he laughed.

'I hoped you got struck by lightning, but alas,' you hissed.

'Yeah, yeah. Love ya too, darling!' he laughed.

Sihtric came out of his tent as you walked past Finan. He looked down, adjusting his leather armour and looked up when you called his name.

'Hey,' he smiled as you got close.

'You forgot something,' you smiled and held up his cloak. You had drawn Finan's attention, who had turned around by now to get a look at you two.

'No, I didn't forget,' Sihtric smirked, 'I knew you'd return it. And my plan worked. So now,' he continued, and placed his hands over yours as you held his cloak, 'I want to know.'

'Hey, what? Know what? What is goin' on 'ere?' Finan called over, 'wha's she doin' with ye cloak, mate?'

You both looked at Finan, chuckled and then back at each other. You looked down, smirked, and looked back at Sihtric, squinting your eyes.

'Yeah, I think I know,' you teased.

'Hey! Know what?' Finan called again.

'Finan!' Sihtric yelled, and he gave him a look that told Finan to shove it. Finan laughed and just sat back, watching the two of you.

'So what will it be, my lady?' Sihtric asked, his attention back to you.

'Well, if you are serious about me, which I wouldn't mind,' you said, blushing, 'then maybe you could check on me again tonight.'

Sihtric chuckled. 'Even when there's no thunder?' he asked, pretending to be serious.

'Even when there's no thunder,' you smiled.

'Hm,' he murmured, 'I guess I might have some wounds you could take a look at then.'

'Oh, yes,' you frowned, 'why else would I see you tonight?'

Sihtric laughed, took his cloak out of your hands, turned away from you and threw it inside his tent.

He stepped back towards you, placed his hand on your lower back and leaned in for a kiss. 'Yes, why else would you see me?' Sihtric teased, and you placed your hands on his chest and pulled him closer by tugging at his armour. Your lips touched and it quickly became a deep and passionate kiss.

'Hey!' Finan yelled, 'Boss! Uhtred! What d'ye think of this?' he called out. Uhtred appeared out of his tent to see what Finan was yelling about. Uhtred laughed at the sight of you and Sihtric, 'what of this?' he said to Finan.

'A crime is what it is,' Finan joked, 'that bastard got the only lady here. He should be banished!' 

You felt Sihtric smile against your lips as he heard Finan's nonsense, and you also felt the need to giggle. But you didn't want the kiss to break, so you placed your hands onto Sihtric's neck and made sure his lips stayed locked onto yours. 

Osferth had woken up too, and stood next to Finan and Uhtred, watching the crime unfold.

They saw how Sihtric lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. And they watched Sihtric carry you inside his tent, without breaking the kiss.

'Hey!' Finan shouted, 'we do not want to hear ya hump, ay?'

'You'd rather watch then?' Sihtric yelled from inside the tent. 

'Ay, ya filthy heathen!' Finan yelled, and everyone erupted in laughter for a moment.

'Ladies always fall for the mysterious ones,' Uhtred snorted and walked away, patting Finan on the back, who looked playfully offended.

'With all due respect,' Osferth said to Finan, 'but I think you never even stood a chance.'

'What did I tell ya 'bout thinkin', baby monk, it doesn't suit ye,' Finan mocked, and they both smiled as they turned around and walked to the fire pit.

They knew very well that you and Sihtric were meant to be together, and they would take down anyone who would try to separate the two of you.

[theladywholivesonthemoon]

A DANCE OF LOVERS

pairing: kitana/reader

warnings: none, just fluff <3

a/n: my first kitana writing! i’ve loved her for a very long time and i felt the need to write about her because of the lack in fics about her. i might write about other mk ladies as well ;) This fic contains mentions of good Sindel, because Kitana deserves a good mother!

Rain patters against the window of the castle as thunder rings from above. Kitana sits in the silence of her office, the only sounds coming from the rain and her brush signing away documents picked from the giant pile of paperwork next to her right hand. Ever since becoming Outworld’s Kahn all the work she had as a princess greatly increased, leaving virtually no time for any leisure, only scribbling away on documents, meeting dignitaries and council meetings. Kitana felt overwhelmed, but as she had learned since she was a child, she bottled those feelings away, hiding them away on the outmost corner of her mind, continuing to carry her duties with her head held high, however she was alone no longer. Two soft knocks ring in the heavy door, slightly starling her, however she quickly composes herself, bushing her clothes and uttering a commanding ‘Enter’.

The massive door is slowly pushed open, dragging across the ground and creaking loudly. To Kitana’s surprise, a woman emerges from the dark holding a candlestick. The warm light of the candles shine on her face showing brows furrowed in sleepiness. She drags her blue tinted robes towards Kitana’s desk and stops right in front of it. Kitana can feel the woman’s anger radiating from her as the calm and quiet that formerly inhabited the room is replaced with distress. Placing the candlestick on it, she crossed her arms and glares.

“It’s late”. Is all she says. The woman keeps staring, more like glaring, as Kitana clears out her throat. She gets up swiftly, crossing the desk and coming to stand next to the other woman. A pitiful look crosses her face, twisting into an apologetic pout.

“My queen, I apologize for my lateness. The council has been debating over these matters for weeks now and I wished to present more accurate research, however it seems as I have neglected you”. The Kahn bushes her wife’s hair away from her face, kissing her cheeks. She gives one kiss after another, twisting her love around until they both face each other. Kitana places her forehead against her wife’s, their noses brushing against another, until the other pulls back. She steps backwards, turning and leaning on the large wooden desk.

“You have said that a lot these past few weeks. I intend to forgive you, however you must know this is not right. After we had won the battle, destroyed our enemies together, I expected more. Our wedding was the most beautiful Outworld had ever seen, your mother congratulated us both with a painting to signify our eternal love, this one that sits above your desk. Our honeymoon was the most magical moment of my life. But now? Now all I see of you are the painting across this castle. Tell me Kitana, how will we fix this?”. The young woman says, a grimace present of her face. She pondered about their marriage and the amazing time they had shared.

When they bested Kronika and the mighty Shaolin had given their universe another chance, the two women rejoiced. Having met on the battlefield while her Queen served under her, they quickly bonded over their knowledge of battle strategies while planning attacks. Late nights discussing what territories they would invade turned into talking about their shared interests and soon, a confession of love. As soon as Kitana had become Khan, they married in a most beautiful ceremony, the former Queen Sindel blessing their union. The main ballroom had been filled with blue flowers, those coating the walls as light fixtures shone a very soft light on them, the entire room shining like the moon. Kitana wore a white dress, as was customary for the ceremony, her lover wearing one in baby blue to match the circlet worn by the Kahn. When they finally kissed, cheers could be heard from all of Outworld. All of that passed through both their minds, contemplating. Kitana thought back from the past few weeks, lonely days and ever lonelier nights without her lover to warm her in the tender and affectionate hugs.

“For starters, I will adjourn tomorrows meeting. We shall spend the enter day together, Perhaps we could go to that coffee place my mother always recommends. Believe me, my love, I shall never leave you again. If I ever do, slice me with my very fans, because that shall be someone eles” Kitana smiles to her love as she sees a slight smile cross the other woman’s face and a laugh falling from her light.

“I do not need your fans. I shall rip your false copy with my blade. But, yes, take me to that coffee shop. I had been wanting to taste their cakes for a very long time. I will want more evening like these, however. You are not forgiven yet” The Queen moves forward, taking Kitana’s hands in hers and moving for a kiss. Their lips touch, moving against each other in a passionate dance before the Kahn pulls away.

“Oh yes, my dear. I shall keep you on your toes!” Kitana kisses her again, picking her up and placing her gently on the table. The two lovers kiss into the night, their happy giggles ringing about in the cold castle, warming the quiet walls once more.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

This marks my 1,000 post.

Thank you to everyone for the likes, reblogs, comments and asks!

In honour, you can have a sketch (at the very end) and a wip from the Reincarnation AU; Mirabel’s death.

Warning, sensitive topics below, especially blood/injury and death.

~~~~~~~

Am I Too Late For a Miracle?

“What is going on!?”

At the sound of Abuela’s approaching voice, Mirabel and Isabela stop talking, quickly standing up.

“Abuela, it’s okay,” Mirabel tries gently. “Everything is okay—”

“What are you talking about? Look at our home! Look at your sister!” She gestures sympathetically to Isabela and the surrounding mess. “It wasn’t enough that you ruined her proposal, now you have to do this too—”

“Please, listen, I-I didn’t. Isabela wasn’t happy…”

Mirabel turned to her side, where Isabela no longer was. Her sister had wandered off behind Abuela, towards where their parents and Luisa had appeared.

At the other side of the room, Tía Pepa, Tío Félix, Dolores and Camilo have also walked in on the scene.

All of them staring her down.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you.” Her gaze hardened.

“Abuela, you don’t understand, the vision—”

“You have to stop, Mirabel! The cracks started with you; Bruno left because of you; Luisa’s losing her powers, Isabela’s out of control because of you! I don’t know why you weren’t given a gift, but it is not an excuse to hurt this family!”

Cracks emerged around the pair, though neither seemed to pick up on it in the moment.

Mirabel’s heart broke.

She opens her mouth but is silenced immediately by a hand in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “I didn’t want to hurt us—”

“Enough!” Abuela thunders. “You don’t get to cry about what you’ve done. There isn’t a punishment worthy. How dare you speak to me about our miracle! How dare you hurt this family! How dare you break our home! How dare you try to harm our miracle! Let me tell you, young lady, I regret the day you were born. You have brought nothing but misfortune at every opportunity! I never would have kept you here if I’d known what a burden you were going to be! You are a disappointment. You have always been such a disappointment. A pathetic excuse for a Madrigal, a granddaughter, daughter, sister and whatever else is in your never ending list of failures. You don’t deserve to be in this family.”

The floor between them cracks, separating them. Abuela silently gasps in surprise and confusion, eyes glued to the damage; Mirabel flinches back, one hand at her heart and the other covering her mouth to prevent any fearful screams getting out.

“No, no, no!” Pepa suddenly cries.

Félix follows her gaze. “The candle!”

As if on cue, the cracks spread. One in particular splitting the house in half and knocking the candle off its perch, the candle flickers and the building shakes subsequently.

Dolores grabs onto the wall to steady herself and Camilo, firmly held by the ruana in her other hand. Isabela lurches forward to keep Abuela in her feet. Pepa almost falls into Félix. Luisa, barely fazed, secures Julieta and Agustín with either hand.

Mirabel, who had been knocked to the floor, shakes her head and recovers herself, setting her eyes on the candle.

“Casita, help me up there!”

The house tears off a line of railing, flipping it into a makeshift ladder for her.

Meanwhile, Camilo had taken the back staircase and was sprinting along the corridor towards Abuela’s door. Using his shapeshifting abilities to parkour through any suppose obstacles.

Isabela creates herself a vine to swing from and pull herself to the candle. Just as she gets close to the ledge, her door fades. The vine quickly dissipates into nothing.

She screams. Casita uses its beams to catch her, gently dropping her to the floor.

Camilo’s door flickers out next. He was mid-jump as the notably tall Josè and just as his hand goes for the edge of the roof, he shifts back to himself and misses. Casita’s other line of railing bends outwards for him to grasp on, breaking his falls as he lands beside Isabela.

He stares in horror at his own hands, his older cousin looks similar as the plants around them shrivel quickly and die.

Nearby, Antonio is stood frozen, watching as his own door goes out. It is immediately thrown off its hinges as the animals come bursting out, running and flying away into the wilderness.

“Careful! Antonio!” Félix remarks, quickly scooping the boy up. As his door comes crashing down to where he was just standing. With the boy in his arms, Félix makes for the exit. “We have to get out of here!” He throws over his shoulder to Julieta, Agustín and Pepa, who are doing everything but that.

“Mirabel?!” Julieta shouts.

Just as she tries to go after her daughter, Casita ripples it’s tiles in powerful waves forcing them out.

“Mirabel!” She cries again, almost tripping to step over Casita.

“Mirabel! You have to get out!” Agustín yells.

“Mirabel—”

The family is thrown out front door at that point. Luisa manages to break Abuela’s fall, Félix does the same for Antonio.

Bruno races on the inside of the walls that are crumbling and piling with dust, quickly shoving every rat inside his ruana. He retrieves Hernando’s bucket, slams it onto his head and crashes head first through the walls.

He tumbles out into the grass below, lifting the bucket as he eyes everything in disbelief. It’s been so long since he’s seen the outside; who would have thought it would be like this?

“Mirabel?!” Julieta cries in alarm, reaching out over Abuela’s shoulder. Casita hasn’t thrown her out. She’s still there. Struggling on her short legs to reach the candle. “Mirabel! Leave it!”

“Mirabel! The house is going to fall!” Félix hollers up.

Pepa twists anxiously at her braid. “Mirabel! Get out!”

“Mirabel!” Agustín shouts.

Casita shifts its tiles and Mirabel finally grasps the candle, panting in relief. Just as she dusts it over, the walls come crushing down around her.

The roof jolts downwards without warning, sending Mirabel hastily over its edge. She cries out. The stairs rise, sliding her onto the ground.

She sits up, eyes going wide as the building caves in. She closes her eyes, adjusts herself to lean over the candle, cradling it like something fragile in her lap. Various pieces of furniture stack themselves protectively around her, trying to shield her from the incoming attack.

“Thank you, Casita.”

~~~~~~

Dolores wailed in agony outside.

Her gift, unfortunately, seemed to be one of the last to fade.

She gripped her own ears tightly, nails digging into the skin, almost determined to rip them off. Over the top of her own hands were Isabela’s and Luisa’s, both her cousins looking at her with such concern.

Abuela was still stood frozen, Julieta and Agustín hovering beside her. Her father was off to the side comforting Antonio with help from Camilo. Her mother was partially sidetracked by something, no someone, in the distance. Townspeople were starting to gather further behind them all.

“Mirabel?!” Julieta cries in alarm, reaching out over Abuela’s shoulder. “Mirabel! Leave it!”

“Mirabel! The house is going to fall!” Félix hollers up.

Pepa twists anxiously at her braid. “Mirabel! Get out!”

“Mirabel!” Agustín shouts.

And Dolores just had to hear it.

Each item, each beam, each tile hit the floor and shatter, one after the other. Mirabel’s cries of absolute terror. It’s clearly her voice, but it sounds nothing like her. All haunting and broken. Dolores thinks she hears Mirabel calm, both realising Casita has sheltered her, and they whisper, “Thank you, Casita.”

And then there’s the deafening cracks as Bruno’s tower comes loose.

It falls.

And falls.

And takes Mirabel’s head down with it.

Dolores heard her splutter on her own blood and air. Her body coming to a silent and abrupt halt. Wherever it lands, Mirabel’s head is still alive. Her glasses smash on impact and cut into her cheeks. She hears the eyelids flutter open and the lips move, trying to scream, no doubt at the sight of her own headless corpse. But she doesn’t have her vocal cords to do that. The eyes blink again, straining to look away. Then nothing.

Casita breaks.

There’s a ringing in Dolores’ ears, in everyone’s ears, when Casita is completely gone and everything is still.

Two doors that had been sheltering Mirabel’s body fall apart, one squeaks open and shut one final time, as if saying you’re welcome. As if the house didn’t just let Mirabel die.

She covers her mouth and drops to the grass. Isabela being the only thing keeping her upright - Luisa had already walked off to her father.

“Shush, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Lola, I’ve got you,” Isabela whispers, holding her against her.

It’s been ages since she and Isa have been this close.

In spite of herself, Dolores can’t help but take the opportunity and tightens herself around Isabela.

Julieta pushes Abuela aside, running into the building. “Mirabel!” She calls, searching the debris.

“Everyone okay?” Agustín asks around. “Is everyone okay?”

“How could this happen?” Luisa questions nobody in particular.

Félix shakes his head in disbelief. “The Encanto is broken…”

“What do we do now?”

“My powers… they’re gone.” Camilo sulks. “And what about Antonio? What’s he going to do?”

Isabela taps her shoulder. “Dolores? Are you okay? Can you hear me? You aren’t listening to me.”

Dolores looks stunned.

She realises.

“My gift,” she mumbles. “Our gifts. They aren’t gone. I can still…”

She can’t bring herself to finish.

Isabela looks unconvinced, but doesn’t say anything. Though she does wave her hand half-heartedly, only for a cactus to suddenly pop out from the ground beside them.

“Mirabel!” Julieta cries in relief, finally spotting the familiar teal among everything. She races over, checking the girl bottom to top for injuries, as she always does; Dolores didn’t need her hearing for that, her Tía always does that. She tries to imagine what Julieta sees. The embroidery must be snagged and torn, the candle must still be glowing in her hands, she’ll be covered in dust and blood— and then Julieta screams.

Dolores figures she worked it out.

“Julieta, come quick!” Her mother calls in the distance, pointing at Bruno, who is not so-subtly hiding in the grass. “Julieta!”

The healer just collapses in front of the body, shrieking in anguish, reaching out but can’t bring herself to touch Mirabel’s severed neck or anywhere else.

~~~~~~

[targcrazies]

Moonless, Dark Night. Pt. 6

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC!Strong (half Targaryen) Words: 3.2k+ Warnings: Violence and Graphic Descriptions, Emotional Distress, Mature (ish) themes, Mentions of Self-Harm and Su*cide, Adult Language, Incest.

This chapter has spoilers from the actual Fire & Blood storyline and sm*t

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

9th Day of 7th Moon, 126 AC.

He found me behind the large, looming bar of bricks in our new grand apartment, his fingers grazing my waist before I winced in surprise and broke into a run. It rained outside and breezed speedily, a rarity in King’s Landing. The air tingled on the skin like gentle kisses and the smell of soil overtook every Dornish incense. The night melted onto the earth as the shower stole the humid air of the day earlier, when he and I had been wed. What a grand day it was, only second to Aegon’s weddings! Despite the grandeur, the joy, and the successful confluence as such; the heat was unbearable. We all drank honeyed wine and ate so little. The rest of the food was dutifully distributed among the smallfolks. Their joy was insurmountable and they all promised to pray endlessly for my and my husband’s welfare.

My husband! What a delight to call him so! He is finally mine. And whilst he always felt mine, there was always this qualm that held my tongue in place. But now, I shall call him mine before the whole realm. My husband, my Aemond, my Prince, my Bejeweled Prince! And, no one shall ever have the nerve to object. He is mine and mine alone and none but he and I are each other’s. 

So, when we retired to our new apartment after a whole day of festivities, Aemond having vehemently refused to let anyone bear witness to our “bedding”, saying, “Oh, she and I will bed alright. You needn’t watch us for you will hear us. Now leave!” I must have turned ten shades of red but he seemed upright and everyone fled shortly. I was honestly grateful and even though we were not exactly living up to the promise he had made, I could not care less!

As we had unclothed down to our shifts, the rain began with a thunderous vigour! The strong, mighty rain took down, with the clouds, almost all the candles. The only source of light was the lightning then, which was awfully, conveniently frequent. I requested my husband to let all the smallfolks who had come to congratulate us for our wedding in, to allow them respite and warmth alongside food. My dearest husband found my notion kind and followed through. I know that the castle does not hold every smallfolk in King’s Landing now, but I feel at peace that it holds many!

My husband had then come in with the expectation to find me totally bare, his eye gave it all away when he found me still in my shift. I took a ribbon of mine and blindfolded him, I asked him to play with me, and my dear husband followed through! Again!

He touched my arm, belly, back, hair SO MANY TIMES. But, each and every time, I ran! It was dark and then light, both of us failing to ascertain accurately where the other one was. However, that is the thrill of it! The sheer fun of it! I knew that I was tiring the man out. If Lady Cass were in my place, she’d fear exhausting her husband out of their bedding. But, honestly, the idea of bedding scared me sort of; even though Rhaenyra told me everything to expect and anticipate, to say yes and no, to ensure that I experienced optimum pleasure myself. 

Finally, I think, my husband had caught on to my antics, for his arms wrapped around my bosom so tightly that I could not twist myself out of his grasp. He called me his ‘dearest wife’ and his ‘impish wife’; before turning me to face him! I was ‘his’ as he was ‘mine’. I was so pleased that I took the ribbon of his eye myself and told him that he had won, he had won it all. The game, my life, my all – he took me in his arms and made me feel so small but so whole, so VERY WHOLE. He hadn’t touched me so in so long! We had been betrothed but he hadn’t even kissed me. He teased and teased and teased. I didn’t know what to say or do. I didn’t know what to mention here! What was I to say? My betrothed touched my lips and leaned closer to say there were bits of eggs on my lips? Or that my betrothed had me pitted against a bookshelf with his giant body to only pick out a book and hit me on my head with it? Or HOW his foot would always find its way on top of mine but he ALWAYS pretended that he did NO SUCH THING?

And then, HE KISSED ME. Finally, FINALLY. I felt so… floaty. My feet couldn’t feel the ground underneath. There was nothing but clouds. I was so taken by his kiss that I held on to him for DEAR LIFE and he laughed in the kiss. My heart felt so heavy from the fullness and wholeness that I could have cried. When we stopped kissing and he looked at me, the sky had cleared up and the moon shone upon the earth so brightly. And it kissed his face for how else did it seem so beautiful? I don’t know, I couldn’t. My husband is a beautiful man. A true Valyrian dragon-riding Prince. He is so very beautiful that I always fawn. However, last night, one would only have to see him themselves to understand exactly what and HOW I mean it when I say that HE LOOKED SO VERY BEAUTIFUL that my CHEST HURT. It felt like someone had knocked the air out of me when he smiled at me. Oh, his smile. His happy, calm, loving smile. My dear, dear husband. My heart, my love, my dearest sweet husband.

I don’t know why or how I had the notion, but I said, “You have not played with me in so long. Tonight, we shall play more.” He looked at me so befuddled, and I shoved his arms off me and ran off, told him to catch me. The white curtains flapped and flew into the wind and I, like a child, ran all around them and shoved them into his face and obstructed his running! He, for once, did not express any irritation if he felt any. He laughed and called my name with such love and ran for me! Anyone who says he is a grump and irritable, I wish they could see him with me. He has so much love for me and ONLY ME. I feel so special!

He finally caught me when I got myself hopelessly tangled in one of the curtains. He laughed at me and asked me if I was alright. He helped me untangle and CARRIED ME TO THE BED, OUR BED. He meant business, I say, WHOLE BUSINESS. He was so gentle with me, assuaging all my fears and filling me so comfortably. It felt so wrong to not have done this before, to not have had him in me. He fit me like a glove! It was so perfect and divine and warm and… titillating, if I may say! He was so wonderful. He kissed me everywhere. He put his all into ensuring that I felt the most wonderful! His hands and his mouth are magical! They hold every magical thing in this world! I felt like I’ve experienced the world and beyond last night in his arms!

My dear husband! My wonderfully dear husband! I will never let anyone come between us. No Lady Cass, no Lord Hightower, no Queen! He’s mine and I am his. Oh dear, I am in utmost bliss! I am enthralled by my dear husband. Oh, how he loves. How he loves me!

Aemond had stolen her old journal after their marriage had soured toward the beginning of the war. He often placated himself with it, despite knowing the wrongdoing in breaching her privacy. He loved his wife, he did, dearly. But oftentimes, he’d find her brooding, in this quiet, stagnant rage. She’d be as cold as iced steel, her gaze giving away so little that he felt like his soul was being torn to shreds whenever her eyes would deliberately seek him out. Her lips, straight and unwavering, remained so. He often wondered how it was possible for someone capable of such exuberant warmth to be driven with mad, critical rage. 

She’d either yell, scream, and drain herself of the venomous anger. Or, she’d let it brew her soul bitter, the smell of charred flesh wrecking up the abode. This time, she was somehow angry enough to have yelled so much that she brewed darker than ever. She was Strong, in name, and in temper. Thus, it really helped to have a remnant of her uncorrupted warmth in his hold, even if it was wholly wrong.

“Why husband? If you have nothing to hide, why don’t you seat yourself beside me like the dear husband you are? I must interrogate Alys Rivers regarding how she’s exploited the kindness shown to her.” She was aware that despite his regular constraint, he’d be even more so, given her state. She was taking advantage of it.

“Of course, Lady Wife. I have nothing to hide, at all.” Aemond took a big gulp of his wined honey, knowing better than to refuse her then. He waited for a while, keen upon knowing the whereabouts of Alys yet adamant on not making any inquiry on the matter himself.

After ten or so minutes, Alys was brought before them by Larys. The brother had taken it upon himself to attend to every whim of his sister. Aemond knew what the man thought. With both of Aegon’s sons having passed, Aemond was heir to the throne. With Aegon’s supposed injury, he might be left unable to produce any more heirs of his own. If Aemond were to have sons, he’d have a strong claim to the throne following Aegon. The one deserving of the Iron Throne, Aemond himself, could one day sit upon the Iron Throne. He’d have the woman he loved beside him, and that’d strengthen him and his reign. 

“Alys, I hope you’ve slept well.” Her voice interrupted his trail of thoughts. He daren’t look at the woman before him, he needn’t worsen her chances of a pardon.

“Maam, it was cold and unkempt. I slept not much at all.” Alys sniffed, indicating having caught a cold. “Must I ask why I was detained so abruptly?”

“Alys, I will ask you, plain and clear. If you like your comfort and do not want to be in loss of it, could you clarify what has been going on between you and my Husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen?” Sansa’s voice was without any emotion, leaving little for anyone to assume of her mind. She spoke the way a neutral adjudicator would, without having anything to gain or lose from the outcome of the situation. 

“Why Lady Strong, nothing at all!” Alys looked at the Prince, scouring for mercy and attention. She found none. “I have only been a loyal, faithful servant to the Prince.”

“And serve him you did!” Sansa laughed dryly, “My husband says you’ve been a true companion, holding intriguing conversations, providing politically astute advice, even having visions in his favour?” Sansa aptly raised a single eyebrow, “That consists more than I have done for my husband in the nineteen years I’ve been his companion myself.”

Alys stood tall, “My Lady, the Prince and I have had limited interactions that have consisted almost entirely of the current dispute. My loyalties align with King Aegon the Second and the Prince’s cause.”

“Hmm,” Sansa took a sip of her watered down wine, “How old were you again, Alys?”

The hostage seemed the most alarmed at the inquiry, “Yes, my Lady?”

“I remember you being good looking even when I was young myself. It’s like you haven’t aged a day from when you were a wetnurse to Harwin Strong, my deceased older brother?”

Alys’s eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion, “My Lady, you are mistaken. I might be old, yes, but not old enough to have let your brother suckle on my teat. We were childhood companions!”

“You’ve had your share of companions, I see.” Sansa leaned forward, “That makes you what, Alys, three-and-forty, or four-and-fourty?”

“My Lady, I am barely a day over forty.” Her voice was low then, her eyes stuck on Sansa’s feet. 

Sansa looked at her brother, who nodded in response. “That is more believable, I suppose, than the age my husband thought you were.” There was a devious chuckle in her voice, “He thought you were thirty, my innocent husband.”

Aemond’s eye stung with tears. He looked up at Alys for only a moment or two to find her face contorted in utter hurt and humiliation. “I apologise for the lie I told, my Lady.”

Sansa cocked her head to the side, “How about the lies you told a moment ago?”

“My Lady,” Alys looked close to tears, “I don’t understand.”

“Oh dearest, you do.” Sansa slowly nodded, “The Seven Kingdoms are in a state of war, which puts me in an awfully compromising position. I cannot send you anywhere to serve, fitting your status. And, you’re not highborn enough to be allowed to stay anywhere else as a guest.” Aemond’s chest burned as Sansa went on, “You will be designated to one of the chambers, which we shall conceal for very obvious reasons,” She cast a look at her husband, so incisive that Aemond had to look her way. She smiled. “You will not be allowed out of your chamber. Your chamberpot will be cleaned every night, your meals will be provided duly. Your garments and linens will be washed and provided duly. However, if I hear a peep of your attempts of escaping or conversing with anyone who’s not accessorising your captivity, I will have your tongue.” She then turned to her brother with a gentle smile, “Take her away, brother, you know where.”

Aemond watched his wife’s shoulder fall to rest as her brother followed her command. She took a generous bite of her bread, chewing heartily. She casted a glance towards her husband’s plate, “Dearest husband, your bread looks awfully dry.” She pushed hers away and took his, slathering fatty, molten butter and coating the bread with sugar, “This will fill you right up and help you prepare for the sacking of more villages here.” She raised the bread to his lips, and he had no option but to do as she expected of him.

“I should have known better,” He thought to himself, “Bitch Rhaenyra is her favourite cousin, after all.” 

Sansa knew that she was preying on Aemond’s vulnerability, however, she could not find it within herself, the kindness to let him be. He may deny till his last breath, but she knew what he had done. He had betrayed her trust and gone to bed with another woman. There was no forgiving for a crime so shameful. She knew he loved her, she saw it in his eyes, plain and clear. He should have just been more mindful of his love and maintained loyalty.

As time went by, her belly grew. Aemond refused to stay at Harrenhal for long after the Battle by the Lakeshore, being aware that his uncle could strike at any given moment. Criston left for King’s Landing and Aemond took Sansa with him to stay in castles belonging to minor lords whose loyalties lied with the greens, atop Vhagar she saw the world and wished her child had no need to be born under such circumstances. She felt more lethargic with time, her cravings becoming more queer and severe. She wrote ravens back at Harrenhal and checked in on Alys every once in a while. She made sure that Wylla, one of the girls down in the kitchen and her brother were the only ones aware of Alys’s whereabouts. She wished she could punish her husband instead of the woman who owed her little loyalty, however, the war had laid out constraints. Despite the frequent travelling, Aemond had ensured her utmost comfort, seeing to all her needs and whims being attended to the best of their abilities. News of Criston’s demise at the Butcher’s Ball reached them shortly after and Sansa could not conceal her glee. The man had dipped toes in unnecessary business, she thought, he had it coming. The babe in her belly stirred.

“I cannot wait for the birth of our son, my dearest, then your suffering shall come to an end, too.” Aemond visited Sansa after she had thrown up whatever little supper she had had, “We will name our son together.”

“What if it’s a girl, Aemond?” Sansa sipped on warm tea, trying to calm her nerves as she breathed in its floral scent.

“That’d be jolly news as well, dear wife.” Aemond responded, “We can think of names for both a son and a daughter, if you so desire.”

“What’s the point?” Sansa casted her eyes away from her husband, taking the large moon in, “It’s all pointless.”

“You mustn’t speak like that, Sansa.” His voice softened, “Dearest, do you want to know what name I’ve considered?”

“What?” She wanted to get it all over with.

“Baelon, after our grandfather.” Aemond beamed with pride.

“Did you know that Grandfather was cold to my mother?” Sansa began, “He couldn’t stand the sight of her, said it reminded him of his betrayal to a wife who had died when he had slept with my wretched grandmother. If it weren’t for Uncle Viserys and Uncle Daemon, my Mother would have been miserable.” 

“I am certain Grandfather loved aunt Visenya,” Aemond kept his hand on hers, “They say that she was the last person whom he desired to see as he passed. Aunt Visenya was a Targaryen through and through. It was hard to not fall in love with her.”

“You were so cold to my Mother until her passing,” Sansa recalled, “She tried her earnest to speak with you, to look after you, to be there for you after your injury. She felt so thwarted. She did not deserve to suffer such humiliation.” Sansa sighed with a heavy heart.

“I was… I was not pleasant at that time and I was-”

“You have no respect for my Mother at all, do you? You kept your mistress in her bedchamber…” Sansa swallowed, “It’s one thing to be unfaithful, dear, it’s another to choose my Mother’s apartment for it.”

Aemond’s eye became glassy, “Dearest, you mis-”

“I do not misunderstand, Aemond. I am neither a child nor a fool. I saw what I saw and I heard what I heard. You haven’t needed me how you needed her then in long.” Sansa could not keep her voice from breaking as she thought of how much she missed being able to cradle her husband’s face on her lap.

“You haven’t allowed me such intimacy for a while now, dear wife. You must remember how you rejected me.” Aemond interjected, “The fact that you are with child is an accidental lapse on your part. You couldn’t look at me in the face the next morning…” Aemond looked away, gulping back snot. 

“You were so happy with that crown on you,” Sansa recalled, “You could not fathom how the crown looked better on you than anyone you’d ever seen. You couldn’t stop yourself from remarking how Rhaenyra would look like a fat cow wearing gold. It disgusted me to think that this was the man I had made love to the night before.”

Aemond sat before her quietly before he looked up at her face, “We’re at war. It makes us do things and say things that we are not exactly proud of-”

“You admit you’re in the wrong?”

“Dearest, we’re all in the wrong.” 

For the first time in long, Sansa found a remnant of her old husband in Aemond’s words and his gaze. “I miss you, my love. I miss you so badly.”

“Then, let me in. Please, I beg you. Let us be how we once were. I am so tired of not being able to hold you and touch you as I will, as my heart wills, dearest.” Aemond had left his chair and knelt before her. He took her hands in his and found her eyes, “I promise to be loyal and attentive. All my love, my heart, everything- it’s all yours, dearest. Please, let go of the grievances. I love you, I have always loved only you. And now,” he put his hand on her belly, “Our child grows within you, a symbol of our love.”

“You cannot complain if the child is a girl, I can’t make promises about what child I give birth to. I do not desire that level of pressure on myself.”

“Of course, dearest. Whatever child, girl or boy, will be dearest to me. You could give me ten girls and I’d rejoice. I don’t need a son, I need you, Sansa.” 

He rested his head on her belly gently, kissing there. His eyes shifted to her bosom, more ample than he remembered inside her shift. He knew that she was watching him, but he could not resist burying his face on her left tit, his lips kissing there gently. He felt her relax beneath him, her soft sigh encouraging. He planted soft kisses all over her bosom, his mouth then seeking refuge at the skin beyond her shift. Her soft sighs became breathier, her fingers holding onto his silver locks.

That night, they made love. He took her from behind, allowing her to rest on her side as he thrust into her passionately, his hands touching and caressing whatever he could find in his hold. His mouth peppered her shoulder and neck with gentle kisses. Before he knew it, she had gotten on top of him, ready to mount him in passion. She looked beautiful, he thought, swollen breasts and belly from his child, her skin glowed as her raven black hair fell over her beautiful lilac eyes. She took his hands and moved her hips fluidly, her eyes never leaving his as soft moans escaped her lips. He laid her on her back and positioned himself appropriately, chasing his high as her face contorted slightly in pleasure. She had forgotten to let go with him, he realised. His thumb located her small bud, pressing at it exactly how he remembered her liking. A cry emerged from her throat, his name, some swears. She stopped him, held onto the headboard and turned her back to his as she positioned herself on her knees. He entered her from behind, bending forward to meet her mouth in a passionate, fierce kiss.

She fell asleep as soon as he licked her to her peak after having achieved his own. Her lips were red and swollen, small bruises left on her shoulders and neck. She slept peacefully in his arms, breathing gently. He was rather drowsy himself, but he feared so much that she would change her mind in the morning and he’d not be able to touch her again like this, let alone kiss her and hug her.

His worst fear remained so, for she had evidently tired of their distance as well and chosen to let go, for then. She was warmer with him, and despite not being able to achieve the love and closeness they shared before the war, he found joy in thinking that they were making good progress. He also realised, after a few fortnights had passed, that he hadn’t even thought of Alys even once.

Sansa grew everyday with the babe. The Maesters said that the child must be in great health, pointing out how the closeness between the husband and wife must be contributing strongly to the child’s growing strength. Larys would often be found cooing to his sister’s belly, her laughter erupting like music in the air. However, he had to leave soon as well, and despite his not telling Sansa where, she knew that he had left to be with Aegon. She had plenty of lamb and goat, feasting on many fruits as well. Aemond was happy to be able to provide her with comfort. He could tell, however, that despite her being more joyful in recent times, she could not help but find her belly rather humbling, her exhaustion catching up to her at the realisation that she hadn’t even half the help she would have had were the situations different, normal. He tried to be there as much as possible. At times, he forgot about the war. It somehow comforted him.

One morning he awoke and found the space beside him empty. Sansa stood by the door with a parchment in her hands, trembling slightly. Aemond hadn’t seen her so distressed in long. He shot up from the bed, rushing beside his wife. “Dearest, what has happened?”

“It’s- it’s from Daemon.” Sansa muttered, “The letter states that you killed Uncle Simon and my little cousins… is that true, Aemond?” Aemond had concealed the news of their killings, and Larys had complied, agreeing that it would be harmful for Sansa’s health. She was told that they all had managed to flee successfully. 

“They died in the ambush, my dear. Forgive-”

She put a hand up to his face, “No,” she grimaced, “I’m tired of apologies. You are fighting your war.” She breathed in her whole chest full before breathing out, “My house shall not survive this war and fade into oblivion.”

“You’re a Targaryen-”

“I am a Strong first, Aemond.” She did not look at him as she shoved the parchment into his chest before walking toward the bed, “Uncle wants to meet you.”

“What?”

“He’s now in Harrenhal, where he found out about your massacre. He is challenging you to a duel, Aemond, one on one.”

“Yes…” Aemond walked up to his wife, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“What will you do, dearest?” Sansa looked up at her husband, her eyes were bloodied with tears streaming down her face. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart.

“I don’t believe I have the luxury to say no, my love.” Aemond put his hand on her head. She stared at him quietly for a few moments before breaking down in tears, her body dropping to the ground below. He bent down beside her, hugging her, trying to soothe her from her pain. She spoke through her tears, muffled from the impact of her grievous cry. “Dearest, I can’t understand you.” He removed her hair sprawled across her face.

“You will die, Aemond. He will kill you. He will kill you.”

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan has someone she'd like to impress.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,893. Rating: all audiences, bar a few swears.)

Chapter 42: The Ball

“Pre-senting..!”

The stage was set, the Great Hall adorned in its finest. A band played upon the dais, the floor before them awaiting its dancers. Every candle was lit, every banner unfurled—each one proudly displaying the sigil of the Inquisition.

This was their party. People of all ranks were in attendance. Advisors and dignitaries, to soldiers and mages. All, except for four.

The door thundered open. A chamberlain cried their names:

“Lady Erridge of West Coldon, Lady Samient of Samient, Baroness Touledy of Val Misrenne..!”

The Ladies strode in, none finer than they. Lady Erridge wore her pinkest, most ruffliest dress yet; Lady Samient wore her tightest, of dark, snakish leather; the Baroness wore her most glamorous, a gown in passionate red—with mahogany cane to match, of course.

“...and Lady Trevelyan, of Ostwick!”

Trevelyan emerged, last of all. The ballgown she wore? Unrecognisable.

The black brocade was gone, the lace ripped from its seams with wicked delight. All that remained was perfect canvas of purest navy, onto which it could be painted—with shining, silvery thread.

Her mother would’ve fumed at the very idea. But what good was learning embroidery, if one did not use it in defiance?

Each Lady had taken up a quadrant of her own, yet the stitches they sewed were all the same: dozens upon dozens of tiny, shimmering, stars.

Trevelyan sparkled with every step. Diamonds glittered around her neck, lent eagerly by the Baroness. Every candle’s flame glistened upon her.

Even the night sky could not compare.

Were it not for the band, the room would have been stunned to silence. Whispers of admiration made their circuit. Trevelyan joined the other Ladies, all of them frightfully pleased with their handiwork—and quite rightly, too.

“So this is what you were all up to yesterday?” asked the arriving Lady Orroat—herself in fine doublet and breeches—laying her eyes upon the dress for the very first time. “It’s beautiful!”

A look of panic came over Lady Erridge. “I did those ones!” she blurted, her pointing finger at some collection of stars.

The Baroness laughed at such a display. “Yes, Lady Erridge is indeed a fine seamstress.”

“Oh, certainly,” Orroat agreed, placing a kiss upon her seamstress’ hand, quelling her worry in an instant. “Always has been.”

Amused, Lady Samient whispered to Trevelyan: “Seems her Ladyship has reversed her position on your knowing Lady Orroat.”

Trevelyan giggled. “Good. For I could hardly say we should make such as handsome couple as they.”

The Ladies settled, the partygoers returned to business—yet the music that accompanied their conversation furrowed into quiet. Attention was drawn to the dais from whence it had come, as the ever-elegant Lady Montilyet took her place upon it.

“Friends of the Inquisition!” she called. “Thank you for coming. I do not wish to keep you from your pleasures, so this will not be long—but, if you shall indulge me, I would like to say a fond farewell, to some of our departing guests.”

She raised a glass in the direction of the Ladies, and sang their praises each.

Lady Erridge and Lady Orroat were wished all the best, for the wedding that was to come, and for the future of their Coldon, reunited by love. They took each other’s hands, met one another’s doting gaze, and held tight.

The Baroness was sent hope, for a swift victory in Val Misrenne—but also admiration. She had more than proven why she was capable of defying the Chantry so: a steadfast determination, that they should all aspire to. With a smile, the Baroness bowed.

Lady Samient’s message was subtle. A safe journey home, all she was promised—but those who knew, knew what that meant. Absent-minded, the Lady reached for and toyed with the pendant at her neck, a twisting halla’s horn.

“Of course,” Montilyet continued, “one of our guests is to remain. Gathered friends, may I please introduce to you our new Arcanist”—she held her glass high—“Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick!”

Applause went up, echoing off the walls, filling the room with joy. Trevelyan laughed in delight, and caught glimpses of her friends amongst the rabble. Varric’s arms flew up; somewhere, Dorian hollered; even Sera clapped—though none, it seemed, were as enthusiastic as Dagna herself!

“Tonight, we celebrate!” Montilyet declared. “So please, enjoy!”

The band launched into triumphant fanfare; good humour and good company were the orders of the evening. The Ladies, all aflutter, went about these goals with giddiness and verve.

“Won’t you come dance?” asked Lady Erridge, having already roped her fiancee into it.

Trevelyan smiled, but shook her head. “Later,” she told her. “There’s someone I wish to see, first.”

Lady Samient picked up her slack. “Come, Lady Erridge!” she offered, instead. “I’ll dance with you.”

Appeased, Lady Erridge escorted her away. Trevelyan was left to withdraw from the dancefloor, and wander towards the more stationary attendees. Her eyes flitted from person to person, searching for one in particular.

A hand caught her shoulder. The Baroness, apparently having already procured a drink, leant over, and tilted it forward.

“There,” she whispered.

The crowd parted, as if by her will. True to her word, at the other end of the room, was stood precisely the man Trevelyan had been looking for.

Commander.

Maker, he had only become more handsome the longer she had known him. That rough-hewn jaw of his, a dishevelment of stubble upon it; the subtle waves in his hair, hints of his rebellious curls; those dimples upon his cheeks—the thumb-prints of the divine, left where the Maker’s scultping hand had gone astray.

And his weary eyes, whose gentle gaze found her, and drew her closer.

Trevelyan admired, as she approached, the coincidence of the navy blue doublet that Lady Montilyet had undoubtedly advised him to wear. Hm. She liked him better in red. Suited him more, perhaps.

Though truly, it mattered little. There was nothing that could dull the shine of him; true gold, after all, did never rust.

He straightened to greet her, a little smile pulling at his mouth. And he would have greeted her, perhaps warmly, perhaps sweetly—had a scout, uniformed and on duty, not appeared at his side.

Ah, fuck.

They whispered something to him, below the hubbub that came back into focus. Trevelyan crept nearer, but heard nothing of the Commander’s reply. Yet, when the he looked to her again, his smile was gone.

“Arcanist,” he said, with a bow. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. Urgent business.”

Bloody typical.

“Of course,” she told him, magnanimously. “Duty calls.”

“At inconvenient times,” he added.

“No duty is ever convenient.”

That seemed to amuse him, at least. “True. I will try to return soon,” he told her. “I assure you.”

“Yes, Commander.”

She curtsied to him, and allowed him to depart. The scout had lingered by the rotunda door. The Commander followed them through.

Gone.

Trevelyan looked down at her pretty, sparkly skirt, and fluffed it up, pointlessly. Not quite the moment she’d been hoping for.

Oh, well. She would have plenty of time for moments with him in the coming days. If he didn’t get called away by something or other during those, too.

Stowing her frustration, Trevelyan returned to the party. There was plenty more to do, besides.

She watched the Ladies dance, and clapped along. She saw Dagna, who was endlessly excited for the things to come. She met with Lady Montilyet, and spoke of her new quarters (ready tomorrow)! And she found Dorian, who was, as always, terribly good conversation.

Yet still no Commander.

The noise of the band and the chatter and the stomps of the dancing were beginning to blur in her brain. Dorian noted her change in temperament, as she peered out of the door to the garden. No. Too many in attendance; the party had spilled out into it. It was no less busy out there than it was in here.

“Try up there,” Dorian suggested, indicating the mezzanine above. It seemed Sera had been banned from it today, as no there was no skulking to be seen. “It has a balcony, if you need some air.”

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan. She’d had little cause to ever stray up there before—but now seemed as good a reason as any. “I shall see you later.”

Dorian waved, off to see the Baroness. Trevelyan found her way around the dancefloor, and escaped up the stairs.

The moment she reached their peak, already was she calmer. Even mere feet above the maelstrom, the music came quieter, and the conversation mere ambience. Better.

Her attention turned to the mezzanine. It was furnished well for a somewhat hidden space, with a luxurious chaise and portraits of figures Trevelyan did not quite recognise. The candleabrum here were not lit, leaving all illumination to that of the moons, who trickled their glow through a pair of glass doors—beyond which, as promised, was a balcony.

But Trevelyan felt at ease enough to stay inside for now; and indeed, she found the view of the party below to be quite of interest. The dancers, from above, weaved such wonderful patterns. Outfits, in all colours, were arrayed like a painter’s palette. She could watch, as those she knew flitted from one group, to another. An enjoyable pict—

The rotunda door opened, drawing her eye. The Commander. He strode into the party with such determination, it was as if it did not even exist around him. Trevelyan followed his path, as it led him, direct, to the Baroness.

They moved to the side. He whispered something. Urgent business? Oh, no.

But the Baroness smiled. Wider and wider. She asked him something; he nodded. She placed a hand over her heart, and sighed. Trevelyan did the same.

She took a step back, from the barrier. If the news they shared was what she hoped, then she was rather glad she hadn’t kicked up a fuss at his departure. Because if it was what she hoped, then it would be well worth it.

She had to see the Baroness.

And she would have, if not for the feet hurrying up the stairs. The Baroness? No cane. Then—!

The Commander appeared at the landing, startling himself as much as he startled her. Determination abandoning him in an instant, he padded onto the mezzanine, and did his best to bow.

“Arcanist,” he said. “Forgive me, Dorian told me you were here.”

Crafty bastard. Still, she asked, “Is everything all right, Commander? Your urgent business?”

He smiled—such a relieving smile—and nodded. “Yes. The Inquisitor has reported in.” She could hardly believe his next words: “We have victory. Val Misrenne is safe.”

As she’d hoped. Better, even. Trevelyan brought a hand to her mouth, a beaming smile beneath it. She shook her head, out of sheer incredulity. By Andraste. She could not fathom how dear Touledy felt.

“Thank the Maker,” she breathed. “Or, I suppose—thank you, Commander.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think it is the Inquisitor and the Baroness’ forces who should have the credit of it.”

“Very true. Though your involvement is still very much appreciated.”

Compliments did not seem to sit well within him; he kept his gaze askance, mouth struggling to form a reply. Awkwardness prevailed, ‘til his fortune changed, and his eyes chanced upon the balcony doors.

“Forgive me, I didn’t meant to disturb you—her Ladyship, the Baroness, thought you should know. You were… headed outside?”

Trevelyan followed his gaze. She smiled. “Preferably not alone.”

“Oh. I could—”

Trevelyan stepped for the doors; he followed. They opened—a portal—to the tranquil night beyond.

The stars shone in greeting. Trevelyan curtsied; an acknowledgement of their mutual beauty. She found relaxation upon the finely-carved stone of the balcony balustrade, and felt the Commander’s presence, a warmth in the absence of the sun, as he came to rest beside her.

“It’s... a nice night,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied, “and a lovely view.”

The entire courtyard was laid out before them, from the tavern—as lively as the party they’d left behind—to the stables—quiet, at this time of day. Moonlit stone, punctuated by glowing torchlight. Beautiful, truly.

Yet it seemed the Commander’s focus was elsewhere, for his hand fumbled within his jacket.

“I, ah, have something,” he told her, “that I believe is yours.”

At last, he seemed to locate it, and freed it from its concealment. White cloth, that flashed in the moonlight. Embroidered, with leaves Trevelyan recognised.

It was far cleaner than the last time she’d seen it.

Trevelyan smiled. The little napkin slipped pleasantly from his fingers, and into her own. She noted the warmth of his proximity, still lingering within the weave, and the sweet, earthy scent that had been left by his possession.

“Technically,” she teased, “I believe it is Lady Montilyet’s.”

“I hardly think she’ll miss it.”

“I certainly hope so.” She tucked it away—safe. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Thank you for the use of it,” he said. “Though, speaking of Lady Montilyet, I had hoped to say—you took the offer... to become Arcanist.”

“I did.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

The Commander stammered, “For you—I mean. I mean, I am glad. That—despite how you came to be here—you have found enough reason to stay.”

Trevelyan laughed a little. It seemed as though he had a mountain to climb whenever they spoke. She appreciated his attempt to scale the peak regardless.

“Plenty of reasons,” she told him. “I know that I ought to have left, and truly have started my life afresh… but that would have been dishonest, to what I truly want.”

“May I ask… what is it?”

“What?”

The Commander almost met her eye. “That you… want?”

She bit back the smile that threatened to betray her. The night air wasn’t cold, but she hid goose-bumps upon her skin. “Well… I suppose there is one thing—”

Feet clattered up the stairs. Trevelyan stopped herself, turning just in time to see, stumbling into the doorway, a giddy Lady Erridge.

“Lady Trevelyan!” she called. “Oh, Commander, there you are! I came to see if you wanted to dance!”

The Commander shook his head. “I’m… No, thank you. I don’t really dance.”

Erridge giggled. “I know! I wasn’t asking you, Commander! Come, Lady Trevelyan! The Commander shall have plenty of time to whisper with you when we are gone!”

Though the interruption was not exactly ideal, Trevelyan could not deny the sentiment. She curtsied to the Commander, somewhat apologetically.

“It seems I am summoned away. Urgent business, I believe they call it.”

The corner of his mouth tilted upward; it made her skin tingle. “Another time, then.”

“Of course.”

Trevelyan permitted Lady Erridge to take hold of her hand. The Lady threw a quick farewell to the Commander over her shoulder, and whisked Trevelyan away, tumbling down the stairs. They burst back onto the main floor of the hall, just as the band queued up another jig.

“Come on, come on!” Lady Erridge ordered, pulling Trevelyan into the congregating mass of dancers. Already amongst them were Lady Samient and Lady Orroat, left to partner up by the absent Erridge.

“Over here!” they called, of a little clearing beside them. Trevelyan and Erridge took position, all anticipation. They joined hands—properly now—and waited for the song to start.

And start it did! Strings and wind erupted into a prancing melody of alternating highs and lows. Trevelyan followed her Ladyship’s lead, bouncing around the floor, clapping her hands, kicking her legs into the air. Skirts clashed and flew, an explosion of fabric and colour.

It was a wonder how Lady Samient danced it so well, in a dress so constricting—but dance well she did! As hands parted and partners changed, Trevelyan found herself parading around in the arms of said Lady, each of them smiling up a storm.

As one song ended, so another began. She was to dance with Lady Orroat, too, of course—it was only fair—and then dear Erridge wanted another.

Eventually, quite exhausted, Trevelyan took the next song’s end, and made her exit.

Fortunately, she found the Baroness on the edges of the dancefloor, an audience to their frolicking. She greeted Trevelyan with a smile and an embrace—for which they both knew the reason.

“I am so glad for you,” Trevelyan said, as she recovered her breath. “Are you all right?”

The Baroness nodded. “Relieved. When I leave tomorrow, I know I will be returning to my town at peace. But—this has not come without loss. It is not over, not truly.”

“Of course.”

“But we could have lost so much more. That Val Misrenne and its people still stand is worth celebrating.”

“Absolutely.”

Trevelyan hugged her once more, yet the music’s sudden and effervescent return caused her to jump. With a laugh, she glanced back to the dancers.

“You know, I am surprised Lady Erridge has not called you up for a jig!”

The Baroness chuckled. “No, no, my leg is far too frail for that.”

“Really?” said Trevelyan, glancing to it. “I remember you saying you still dance, once.”

“I do.” She grinned. “But the leg is an excellent excuse.”

Trevelyan caught her meaning. “Lady Erridge’s enthusiasm is quite difficult to match.”

“Indeed. She has the stamina of a demon. Though I’m sure Lady Orroat could find some use for that.”

Trevelyan laughed. “Your Ladyship! Please, I feel so terrible teasing her!”

“Then you should not like to hear what we say about you and him.”

Confused by who ‘him’ was, Trevelyan followed the Baroness’ line of sight, to a nearby throng of guests. Weaving between them, was—she should’ve guessed it—the Commander.

“Oh, Maker…” Trevelyan groaned. “You all have far too—”

She turned back, and realised the Baroness’s mouth was half-open, her cane being raised in the air.

“No, no—!”

“Commander!”

He heard the call. His head whipped round. No stopping it now: he was headed in their direction.

“Baroness!” Trevelyan hissed.

Touledy smiled, gave a suggestive flick of her brow, and said nothing more. Though Trevelyan was almost glad of this—the Commander ought not hear anything she had to say right now.

“Ladies,” he greeted, upon arrival. “Is there something you require?”

“Why, yes,” said Touledy, all too confidently. What was she up to? “Lady Trevelyan here wishes another dance, but I am afraid I am unable to”—she flashed her cane—“would you be able to dance with her Ladyship, in my stead?”

“Oh.” The Commander softened. "Are you all right?”

Trevelyan noted, rather indignantly, that the Commander asked this question with the same sort of gentle voice that he often put on for her. This was a concept which, she suddenly discovered, she did not like. Why, oh why, did she have to make him befriend the other Ladies? Fool.

“Yes, thank you,” the Baroness answered. “But her Ladyship must have a dance.”

Trevelyan rolled her eyes. “But Baroness, the Commander does not like to dance.”

“I could try,” he said.

Trevelyan stared at him. There were a thousand questions she thought of in response to his saying this. But somehow, the only one she could quite manage was:

“What?”

He repeated the sentiment: “If you would like to.”

“Oh.” Well, there was little chance of her saying anything other than: “Yes.”

The Baroness smiled, clearly relishing in the success. “Go on, then,” she said, “enjoy.”

Easier said. At least Trevelyan had done enough jigs with Lady Erridge to know what she was to do with them, now. In her mind, as they walked to the floor, she went over the steps. Left, left, kick, clap. Switch. Then to the right? But—

The music grew in volume. Yet it sounded like no jig she’d ever heard. Trevelyan realised that the band had betrayed her. Not a jig. Not at all.

Sweet, slow strings floated across the hall. A… romantic melody, that had couples approaching the floor. Dear Maker fucking Andraste shitting Void.

People linked hands and put them on waists and Trevelyan realised that she was in the midst of it now, surrounded, and there was no escape, and she would have to do those things herself.

She faced the Commander. Maker, why did he have to look like that and be like this? This sort of thing was far simpler with unimportant suitors that one could so easily discard after, even if one did step on their toes.

He offered a hand. Trevelyan’s shook.

But still, they met.

Her fingers slid into his palm, felt the warmth that emanated beneath the leather of his glove. The feeling of his skin, however rugged or tender, was cruelly left to the imagination. She savoured it regardless.

Her other hand gathered up her skirts, like the rest of the dress-wearers were doing. Almost in position. There was simply one last thing to emulate—

The Commander’s hand moved for her waist, hesitant in its approach. The first touches of his fingertips—gentler even than that of cotton or down—caused her body to tense. She did not know how she was to bear his entire hand.

But his hand stopped short. It instead hovered over the fabric of her dress, as if afraid to press any further.

Disappointing.

Nevertheless—the music began in earnest. The dancers began to move. The Commander took a step, and Trevelyan followed. Her nerves hit a peak.

And then, began to fade.

Because dancing with him was unlike dancing with anyone she had danced with before. It felt different. Better. Warmer. Safer. It almost did not matter if she was dancing well or not. It was only him that mattered.

There was no need for extravagant moves, or flourishes of the hand. This was enough. Sweet, simple, swaying in one another’s arms. More than enough.

“You should dance more often,” she whispered to him. “You do it well.”

He smiled, soft, and simply said, “All right.”

Her words must have bolstered his resolve, for his shoulders relaxed, and his grip around her hand firmed and strengthened. Its pull drew her closer; his other slipped around her back, fitting perfectly into the mold of her body. The gap between them was more indistinct than ever.

Yet in that closeness was comfort. She could have stayed like that for an eternity.

But the music slowly, gradually, dulled away. Other dancers reappeared around them, the party audible once more. It was over.

They came to a standstill. Trevelyan’s hand fell reluctantly from his grasp; his trailed away from her waist. Yet still she smiled, for nothing could take it from her lips.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“I shan’t make you dance another.”

“That’s… all right.” He rubbed his neck. “Will you, ah, be stargazing tonight?”

She played with her dress. “Most likely.”

“Good.”

She curtsied, he bowed. He left, she stayed. Her feet still wobbled, a little.

But she would have to recover quickly. For she turned to her side, and saw complete what had, until now, been only a disruption in her periphery: the Ladies, gathered together, in keen observance.

Trevelyan shook her head, and, before they could open their mouths, told them firm:

“Not one word.”

[papaziggy-devblog]

might i get some facts about our lovely lady counselors? the lads are neato but i wanna know more about all the queens at the camp

Some love for the WAMEN

Sophie:

She sings in the shower, but would be mortified if anyone caught her

Her favorite fruit is oranges

She fuckin loves both Teppanyaki and Hibachi style places

She sleeps like a rock, good luck waking her before she's ready to get up

She can sew really well, if you have a tear in your clothes or a ripped plush, shes the one to go to

She's spooked by thunder

But ironically loves rainy weather

She has a massive sweet tooth

She's afraid of needles

If she takes a bath instead of a shower it has to be a bubble bath... with scented candles

Cammi:

She has anxiety, but swallows it down and drowns it out by keeping herself busy

She hates hot weather

She'd 100% tell them you asked for no pickles

She hates olives

She could drink a whole gallon of apple juice on her own if you let her

She gets competitive with board games

She was on the track team in highschool

She's allergic to wasps

She's the only one in camp you wanna go to for first aid, she knows even more than Jazz

She's surprisingly tough, she says its from growing up with two brothers who liked to roughhouse

Jazz:

She's very athletic, her favorite sport is volleyball

She's also stupid good at swimming, she would have taken the role of lifeguard at the camp during swim time

She loves sour candy, if you wanna get on her good side bring her anything from sour patch kids to straight up citric acid

She knows she can be intimidating, but it's not on purpose, she promises.

She dyes her hair herself

She never finished highschool, but got her GED and some college

She runs on about 3-4 hours of sleep a day

She loves her job as head counselor, but is planning on stepping down to continue college

She's very straight and to the point, she doesn't like tiptoeing around things

Her biggest fear is going back to old habits

[thebiggerbear]

Six Sentence Sunday - Daenerys x Sansa - 11/19/23

A/N: This is something I've been working on since...oh man, it has to be a couple of years at least. (when I said I had many open projects I wasn't exaggerating in the slightest lol) It's the idea that Sansa is sent in Jon's place to meet Dany at Dragonstone. As always, a little more than six sentences (one of these days I will meet this challenge and win!) On a side note, I just love these two. 😊 All unbeta'd.

Sansa licked her lips and braced herself further, knowing that the happy moment was not bound to last, not after he heard what she had come to tell him.

Jon, seemingly sensing that the peaceful interlude between brother and sister had also come to an end, sighed heavily. “Sansa, I have to go. You know I do. Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

“I know.”

Jon’s gaze snapped to her at hearing the words he had least expected. 

“I understand that we could possibly win the battle with the Night King if the Dragon Queen were to agree to help us. It would increase our odds tremendously if we had three dragons at our backs, as well as bolster our forces with the addition of the Dothraki and Unsullied. Of course, we should consider an alliance most carefully.” Jon gave a heavy nod. “But it’s too great a risk for you to go.”

Jon’s expression fell and he closed his eyes tiredly, now hearing what he had expected since the moment she had arrived in his solar.

Sansa discreetly gripped the arms of her chair, and prepared herself. “And that is why I should go in your place.”

Jon’s eyes flew open and his face hardened. 

She knew she had mere moments to try to gain his understanding. “As your representative. Tyrion will not allow any harm to come to me and I believe the Targaryen queen may be more receptive to discussing terms with another woman. I--”

“Absolutely not,” Jon thundered as he quickly got to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. His eyes were pitch black in the low light of the candles and if she didn’t know him as well as she did now, if she didn’t trust that he would never bring harm to her, Sansa might have been a little frightened of the menacing edge to his tone. “If anyone is to go, it will be me. I am the King in the North. The invitation requested the King in the North and so I shall go.”

Sansa’s heart fluttered slightly at his passionate declaration. It proved to her once more why she had embraced his crowning, why she had begged him to help her take back their home, even if he didn’t carry the name Stark. Even if they were the only two Starks left in the world now. She could see the good king he could be, given time, and the good king he already was in her presence. If only they had that time… Damn the Night King and his army to all the Seven Hells.

“Jon,” she implored. “Yes, you are King in the North, and you need to be here to lead our people in this fight. Going to Dragonstone to meet with her is too dangerous.”

“Aye, it’s dangerous but I am willing to risk it to help us. If it’s dangerous for the King in the North, then how dangerous will it be for the Lady of Winterfell do you think?”

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this upcoming mini series.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

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[mwcowan]

A Whole New Chapter

Happy Birthday Max (and Ripley, Olaf, and Daisy)!

June 28th was Max’s 4th birthday (and all of his 8 siblings, though we only know Ripley, Olaf, and Daisy). He celebrated with a special birthday crown, and by devouring a HUGE liver and rice pupcake that Georgia made for him. He had trouble blowing out the candle though.

One thing Max hasn’t acclimated well to are the storms, with their heavy rain, lightning, and thunder. He’s always been shy about loud noises, and here, even the rains get loud. I’ve described the intense lightning and thunder before, but just to remind you it’s LOUD! This is all made worse by the fact that we live outside most of the time, often hanging out in our upstairs open-air foyer; even if we’re indoors we almost always have the windows open. We've read that some dogs deal with loud noises better if they wear earmuffs so we experimented. Here’s Max’s first “boom boom” helmet:

This seemed to help so we’ve since upgraded this to a commercial model that just slips over his ears. We’re not sure if it really muffles the noise or if it just distracts him having something wrapped around his head. He also seems to deal with thunder fairly well by retreating to a ‘sanctuary’, usually underneath my desk in the main room, or Georgia’s desk in our bedroom. We hope he gets used to it quickly – now that we’re in the rainy season we get a thunderstorm almost every afternoon. He’ll get plenty of practice at least!

And Happy 60th Birthday Noel!

Continuing to celebrate birthdays, last weekend we went to Manila to attend the birthday party of our dear friend Noel. Michelle had planned a fun 80’s themed (just my thing!) night, with DJ, dancing, and of course food and drink. We saw many friends there and – small world time – even met two of our neighbors from Kawayan Cove that we hadn’t met before. Here’s Noel with more than his share of lovely ladies.

On the Road Again

One of Georgia’s friends, way back from her McDonald’s days in the early 80’s, has a vacation house on Lake Caliraya, which is just south of the biggest lake on Luzon, Laguna de Bay. The friend had offered for us to use it anytime we wanted. Although she wasn’t there, we took the drive and spent a couple nights at the lake.

The lake is manmade, its dam constructed in 1939 by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, for one of the first hydroelectric power projects in the Philippines. The dam was blown up by retreating American troops in 1942 to keep it from being useful to the Japanese, who quickly repaired it. The Japanese in turn destroyed the dam in 1945 when they retreated. It was rebuilt in 1953 by the Philippines National Power Corporation and since no one has blown it up since, it's still generating hydroelectric power. In addition to power, this large lake (about 3 x 8km/2 x 5mi, with a convoluted 157km/98 mi shoreline) provides many recreational opportunities and supposedly the best largemouth bass fishing in the Philippines (we tried but didn’t catch any…).

Even without catching anything we enjoyed our time on this very quiet and serene lake.

The only downside of Lake Caliraya, for us anyway, was the journey. From Kawayan Cove it’s about 160km each way which shouldn’t be that bad, about 2 hours or so, right? It’s not that bad at all for the first 40km or so, where we have nice, uncrowded highways to Tagaytay/Lake Taal. Past that though, with the exception of less than 10km on the SLEX expressway, it’s a slog along crowded, narrow, surface streets, making in all a pretty stressful 5-hour drive. The last 20km or so, when the route takes you up into the mountains and to the lake, finally let me relax a bit on a twisty but uncrowded mountain road. Reaching the subdivision entrance we continued for a bit on a normal 2-lane road… which abruptly turns into a single lane composed of two narrow strips of concrete. In some places there were drop-offs to the sides of the strips so you had to be very careful to stay centered, and MOST places there was absolutely no room for two cars to pass. Not sure what we would’ve done but luckily we didn’t meet another car either going in or out.

Here's the 'road' as it goes by the lake house, one of the few wide spots where two cars could pass.

Although the drive was somewhat stressful, it was a good chance to get to know our new car. Yes! I got my Fortuner! We had to wait about a month after we ordered it (waiting for that special Platinum White Mica Pearl paint), and took delivery the day before our trip. Having a brand-new car probably added to my stress, but overall it’s a joy to drive. The Innova, which is now Georgia's mom's car, served us well, and though it’s officially not a minivan it drives like one. The Fortuner (sharing the chassis and diesel engine with the Innova and the Hilux pickup) is much sportier to drive, especially on the twisty roads. Now we have a mini-SUV and a full-size SUV!

It's a Jungle Out There

The other day our caretakers pointed out a snake that had roosted in a vine near our pool deck, in fact right above my favorite spot to sit and read. It turned out to be a reticulated python, common all over Southeast Asia. These are the longest snakes in the world – the longest one ever captured was 33 feet (9.9m)! One of our neighbors is quite fearful of snakes and warned us to get rid of it as it will kill and eat dogs and cats, cattle, carabao… and you! Well, maybe the big ones, but this guy (less than 3’ / 1m) would only strike fear into you if you were one of the frogs that used to hang out in that spot.

While we’re talking reptiles, yesterday when I opened our pool umbrella I was surprised by this friendly looking tuko who had taken up residence inside. A large (this one was about 10" / 25cm) and colorful member of the gecko family, these creatures are plentiful here but are very shy and you rarely see them, only hearing their loud “tu-ko, tu-ko, tu-ko” calls in the morning and evening.

And Back to the Friendly Skies

Tomorrow we’re starting our journey back to the states, for about a 5-week visit. Check on the house, visit friends and family, go to the dentist, that sort of stuff. Max will stay here with caretaker Vima, with whom he’s become very good friends. We’ll be coming back to Manila right before Danny, Ben and Lachlan arrive for a visit in late August, which we’re excitedly looking forward to!

So that wraps up this chapter. I’ll probably be back in September.

Until then, leaving you with a couple of nice sunsets. Take care everyone!

[studying-space-of-annie]

Some important macbeth quotes!

"Fair is four, and foul is fair" -witches

"The instruments of darkness" -Banquo to the witches

"My dearest partner of greatness" -macbeth to lady macbeth

"Yet I do fear thy nature: it is too full o'th'milk of human kindness" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Come, you spirits" -lady macbeth

"Unsex me" -lady macbeth

"Look like th'innocent flower But be the serpent under't" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Our honoured hostess!" "Fair and noble hostess" -Duncan to lady macbeth

"When you durst do it, then you were a man" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Is this a dagger I see before me (...) Come, let me clutch thee" -macbeth

"Infirm of purpose!" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No" -macbeth

"O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!" -macbeth

"Thunder" -stage directions

"A devil more damned in evils to top macbeth" -Macduff

"Malicious, smacking of every sin that has a name" -malcolm regarding macbeth

"But I must also feel it as a man" -Macduff

"Out, damned spot: out, I say!" -lady macbeth

"Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love" -Angus regarding macbeth

"The Devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!" -macbeth to servant

"Cure her of that" -macbeth regarding lady macbeth

"Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand" -malcolm to others

"Out, out, brief candle!" -macbeth to (dead) lady macbeth

"Worthy uncle" "right noble son" "Worthy Macduff" -malcolm

[ascendanceseriesveteran]

Flowers in the rain 🌹

Bit of a short (and late) Jarogen Valentine's Day fanfic.

I wasn't feeling awfully creative so it's a miracle I wrote anything at all. The premise is mildly uncreative because of that but here it is anyway.

If there are spelling errors - pretend you didn't see them. I'm not in the mood to edit it.

The day didn't begin with the pleasant chirp of birds one always associated with St Valentine, singing under the sun's warmth that didn't quite permeate through the castle walls. Nor were there any rays pouring down the ruby drapes and into our bedroom, setting the room aglow with redish, morning tones. Instead I was brought back into the concious world by the hum of rain. Not quite torrential as it was in the last week, but persistent and soothing. Almost as soothing as the bulk of man I was using to compensate for the lack of sunshine. Jaron ran hotter than embers on most days, the perfect source of heat for my colder extremities.

"Jaron."

His finger that was creeping everso slowly upward stopped drawing patterns on my stomach, and he glanced at me with theatrical levels of innocence. Only the twitch of his lips giving away the devilishly grin that threatened to break free.

"What do you think you're doing?."

His chuckle rumbled around me like thunder, "Good morning, my Lady."

"Why are you awake so early?" Though I already knew the answer, I couldn't help but tease. "I didn't realise you were performing miracles today."

"Are you saying that I'm incapable of being responsible? I'll have you know that I rule a whole country."

"What I'm saying," I kissed his grin away, "Is that you seem to have been awake for far longer that you're letting on." If his boots, vest and unkempt hair was of any indication.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

He was smiling again, mischievous as ever. An arm snaked under my torso and the other hooked under my knees as he scooped me up with ease, and carried me, bridal style, from the bed to the bathroom.

First the smell hit me. A clash of petrichor and spring with a tinge of sweetness in the air. But it wasn't until I saw what had become of the bathroom that I gasped. Flowers decorated every surface, their petals carpeting the timber floor around the bathtub. Water danced in the candlelight and freshly baked sweets spread on a board across the tub were flanked by enough berries and fruits to feed an army.

"Jaron."

He set me onto my feet as I took in the scene, my hands seemingly bunched in front of my mouth forever, excitement briming like the water that enticed me to it. I felt him drop a kiss to my cheek and committed his whispered words to memory, "Happy Valentine's day, my Love."

It wasn't that massive displays of affection were scarce with him. Quite the opposite, in fact. The last 3 months, since the war's end, have been something of a quasi-paradisic experience. Jaron treated me like a Queen in every sense, even though I was nothing of the sort. And with every passing day, not that I thought it was possible, another piece of my heart was lost to love for the incredible man that held me.

I spun around to face him, rewarded with soft flames flickering in those emerald eyes and a smile brighter than all the candles combined. "I don't think I can finish all of this myself."

"Is that so?"

I made a sound that resembled a resounding yes as I met his lips with mine. The bath was big enough for two, after all.

[rustbeltjessie]

Karyna McGlynn, from “We Sing Mozart’s Requiem in the Back of the Cruiser” (50 Things Kate Bush Taught Me About the Multiverse, Sarabande Books, 2022)

As far as we understand, any Singer who would express her remorse so Beautifully, & so Publicly, must be Immediately Unbound.

“Straighten up, ladies,” they are supposed to say, cordially adjusting their heavy belts.

Instead, they take us Downtown. They lower the radio chatter to listen as we thunder: Dies Irae! Dies Illa! (Day of Wrath! Doom Impending!) One officer softens, sorry for us. The other looks nervous: “Hush, now.”

We imagine Our Mothers: newly distraught & accosting our closets. Side-by-Side Close-Up as they discover our plunder!

Heaps of it. Plaid skirts & Mudd jeans. Vanilla candles, crystal clutches, full-on fairy wings, marabou fans, thigh-high stockings balled into doll-sized silver backpacks w/ bottles of Mini Thins, gluey tubes of Great Lash, ironic kazoos, Schlitterbahn shot glasses, or (shit!) that black satin corset w/ shiny

hellfire flickering up its cinch!

And oh my god the stolen hoop skirts. The light-up wands that play Magic Arpeggios when waved at strangers. Those red stilettos w/ little padlocks at the ankles!

Lord Have Mercy for Our Helpless Mothers now quivering in the face of this Failure. They sink to their knees in the Twin Spotlights of our separate Klepto Heavens. Kyrie eleison.

Sweet Lord Jesus hear our plaint— We sing of Day-Glo G-strings & Lo! The lipsticks, lipsticks, lipsticks.

[marvelobankspdrescue]

Title: A Night Without Power

Age: 4

TW: Fire, The dark? Thunder, and storms.

It had been storming all week so Jay and Caitlin, were enjoying a quiet night with the only noise being the rain, the movie, and the occasional clap of thunder. They were in the middle of watching Despicable Me when the power suddenly went out. Caitlin got startled and jumped, and squealed clutching onto Jay's arm tightly and burying her face in his shoulder. Jay placed a gentle but protective hand on the back of her hair and shushed her silent cries he explained that there was nothing to worry about as he ran his fingers through her hair. When she finally released his arm he got up with her clutching his shirt he walked to their junk drawer and grabbed some candles and matches to light up the room.

Caitlin looked around with wide eyes as they explored the dark house together. Jay realized that this was an opportunity to teach Caitlin about survival skills, to be thankful for the things she has and that she doesn't need electronics or a bunch of toys to have fun.

He grabbed Caity and they went to their hall closet where they keep extra blankets and pillows and a few other things as well as their giant stack of board games he picked her up so she could see all of their board game. After about 7 little arguments Jay won, and after 3 little arguments Caity thinks she won. She finally decided on Robot Turtles. As they were fixing to walk to the kitchen Caity asked "Can we have a sleepover in your room Daddy." "How about we have a sleepover in the living room huh" "Yaay" Jay sat Caity down and said "Go set the game up on the kitchen table please, while I go get our blankets, pillows, and your police bear. Ok." "Ok Daddy" "Thank you, sweetie"

She took the game and a flashlight that Jay was handing her and ran to the kitchen and started setting up the game. As Jay was getting their stuff for their sleepover he couldn't help but laugh at the little argument he had 20 minutes prior with his very smart and very stubborn daughter. It went a little something like this. "What's this Daddy,"  "That's monopoly it is a grown-up game baby," "How," "You have to count money," I can count money," Oh really  if you have 7 dollars and I give you 2 more dollars how many do you have." "10 dollars," she said with as much confidence as a 4-year-old could muster and Jay said, "Close but we are still not playing Monopoly."

They played robot turtles for a couple of minutes and then played a couple of other games Jay had a great idea to go down to the lobby and visit Caity's favorite person in the lobby and give him some water. They grabbed a light coat and put on their shoes and walked through the apartment. They stopped at the lobby and talked to the desk ladies for a few minutes Caity gave them some water and they smiled at her sweetly. Then they walked through the front door and Caity ran straight to her favorite person in the building and reached up her arm to hand him a bottle of water he accepted it gratefully he hugged her and said "Thank you Caity. Marcus Johnson has been their doorman for a few years now he is the son of the owner of this franchise of apartments and was a very kind man around the same age as Jay. Marcus gave Caity a little bear and she smiled the brightest smile while Jay gave him an annoyed glare cause Caity has a thousand stuffed animals but then smiled when he saw how happy she was. As she played with the little bear Jay and Marcus talked. As they were talking Jay saw her yawn he walked to her and picked her up. They said goodnight to Marcus and walked back inside they said goodnight to the desk ladies.

When they got back to their apartment Jay realized that it was no longer raining and the clouds had cleared. The stars were very bright after the storm and Caitlin's favorite thing to do was look up at the stars. He loved it cause it reminded him of when he and Will were little and they would sit outside and look at the stars with his mother. He has said ever since Caity was born that she looked like his mother and every time Caitlin smiles he sees the smile he saw every night before he closed his eyes, every time he got home from school, and every time he won a high school football game or got a good report card.

He sat her down on the bench by the door to take off her shoes as he unzipped her boot she yawned. He asked her if she wanted to go on the balcony and look at the stars she gave the biggest smile her tired body could manage and tiredly nodded her head. So Jay finished taking off her shoes but left her coat on he then took off his shoes. He picked her up and sat her on the couch. He grabbed their blanket and a pillow and took them out to the egg chair on the balcony. He went back in and picked up Caitlin he grabbed her police bear and her favorite fuzzy gray blanket and took her to the egg chair. Jay sat down on the chair with Caity on his lap her Police bear clutched tightly to her chest her head resting on his shoulder. As they looked up at the stars, Jay asked Caitlin what story she wanted and she said a story about little you and little Uncle Will. Jay smiled and started telling her about a few of his favorite memories of his childhood. When he finished telling one of his memories he looked down and saw the peaceful look on his sleeping daughter's face and thought about how amazing and smart she is and how blessed he is to have such a wonderful daughter.

Jay was amazed that his little girl had so many questions and observations about the natural world around them.

He thought back to all the memories of today and saw a face of pure joy. Jay watched her with pride and tenderness, realizing that he didn't want to miss out on too much while chasing his career.

The power outage lasted all night, and it forced them to slow down and appreciate each other's company. He eventually fell asleep and snuggled up to his little girl, they both slept with peaceful smiles on their faces.

After that night, Jay made a promise to take things more slowly and treasure the little moments with Caitlin. They continued to spend time outside and doing things that don't need power to do, even when the power was running smoothly and made it a point to have heart-to-heart conversations over candlelit dinners. Jay learned that it was the simplest things in life that brought them the greatest happiness and that he could never underestimate the bond he shared with his daughter.

A/n this is what I think the egg chair would look like you can choose anything like a bed swing or just a couch.

This is the police bear that the intelligence and Trudy gave to Caity when she was born it will be in a lot of stories. You can change it. It doesn't need to be a bear.

Pretend it says CPD.

This is the blanket Jay got her when she was born. Again you can change anything about I choose this cause I have it and it's my favorite blanket.

[thescribeoflostmemories]

Lovelorn (Fan-idea artifacts)

Weapon: Kodoku

It has no definite form but it is a deadly curse, a poison if you would call it that. It cannot be stopped once it fester within someone. Very useful to bend the whims of others under your command. It can take lives if the maker wishes do so. Only a very few alchemists have manage to make it into a reality, though their progressive realization would lead their damnation.

Artefacts: Lovelorn set 

Flower: 'Clematis Giselle'

'My lovely Lady, you and I will have a happy ending.' - The knight

A young Giselle had wed to a noble hearted man on a happy occasion, both love each over equally to no end. Few days prior, they were merely two lonely strangers. Unaware of the haunting malice that looms over her shoulder.

Plume: " Giselle's Pinion" 

'You've married an Icarus, my dear sister. I will not attend a wedding that will only result in blood tears!'

It all started with a little doubt placed by him, thinking of that her betrothed would commit infidelity over something insignificant. Yet her love for him never seem to dwindle, since her fiancé has never done anything wrong. If she had investigated carefully instead of placing blind trust, maybe perhaps she had listen to her dear elder brother. Day in, day out after their spoken vows, she grow tired of a wordless love. Slowly but surely not one glance at her way, it drives her mad.

Sands: " Wedding bells "

'Our love will be everlasting' -the knight

That was the promise to her when they spoke their vows, to lift her up in her darkest of times. To fill her chalice with his, yet at the end of the tunnel he presents to her, have no egress.

And so she left to wander around for someone who would actually spend time with her. Of course this made her husband go feral over her 'betrayal'.

As his heart was unstable and could as well murder him from this 'so-called' love. Yet, it raises a tingling sensation, akin to hunting fresh game in the woods. Embracing it, only for a shadow to perfectly fit him.

Goblet: 'To be or not to be'

'I shall be your wine in your goblet, my love. With this, my life will never separate from yours. '- The knight

The knight haven't forgotten his vows, yet when he saw her smiling at someone who isn't him, infuriates the chivalrous man. Lives reaped under her nose, citizens indict her as a cruel witch leading her to him.

Circlet: " Burning passion."

'Beautiful, a lovely flower crown to commemorate our anniversary, on top of their funeral!' - Ah'dula

At last he reveals himself, "My love." They heard a voice like thunder, looked up. Behold a ghastly pale horse, the rider is coveted man, shrouded in darkness. Amongst the throng of faceless people is his beloved on the ground, with no head on her shoulders. "To think I were to spare such insects like yourselves." And just like that, all life were snuffed out like a candle light.

Until this day, the man with such hideous appearance is in search of his dearly wife. They say he helped kindred souls like him to be happy with their loved one, by blessing them with the knowledge of the Kodoku.

[brookston]

Holidays 2.2

Holidays

Ayn Rand Day

Bonza Bottler Day

Chris Kyle Day (Texas)

Constitution Day (Philippines)

Day of Youth (Azerbaijan)

Feast of Torches

Femminiello Pride Day (Italy)

Grand Central Station Day

Groundhog Day  (a.k.a. ... 

Badger Day

Brewhog Day

Groundhog Job Shadow Day

Hedgehog Day

”I Got You Babe” Day

Marmot Day (Alaska)

When the Bear Wakes Up Day (Croatia, Serbia)

HarryStrong Day

Hromnice (Czech Republic)

International Sex Education Day

Inventor’s Day (Thailand)

Lung Leavin’ Day

Mad Pelagius Day (Elder Scrolls)

Mindfulness Day

National Brendan Dau

National Brown Dog Day

National Catcher’s Day

National Change Your Windshield Wipers Day

National Frank Day

National Indigenous Day (Colombia)

National League Baseball Day

National River Day

Neuroblastoma Awareness Day (Australia)

Play Your Ukulele Day

Purification Day

Rheumatoid Arthritis Awareness Day

Self-Renewal Day

Serpent Day (Celtic)

Sled Dog Day

Sonam Locher (Sikkim, India)

Trader’s Day (Poland)

Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo Day (Mexico/US)

Treaty of Tartu Day (Estonia)

Twin Tail Day (Japan)

Veja Diena (Day of Wind; Ancient Latvia)

Victory of the Battle of Stalingrad Day (Russia)

Wives' Feast Day

World Day for Consecrated Life

World Ostrich Day

World Tutu Day

World Ukulele Day

World Wetlands Day (UN)

Zippo Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Brewhog Day

California Kiwi Fruit Day

Crêpes Day (France)

Heavenly Hash Day

Rolling Rock "33" Day

Tater Tot Day

1st Thursday in February

National Sweater Day (Canada) [1st Thursday]

Optimist Day [1st Thursday]

Scout Jumuah [begins sundown 1st Thursday]

Time to Talk Day (UN) [1st Thursday]

Feast Days

Adalbard (Christian; Saint)

Candlemas  (a.k.a. ... 

Candelaria Festival (a.k.a. Virgen de la Candelaria; Puno, Peru)

Dia de la Candelaria (Mexico)

Feast of the Holy Encounter (Western Christianity)

Feast of the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple (Western Christianity)

Feat of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary (Western Christianity)

La Fete de la Chandeleur (Canada, France)

Le Jour des Crepes (Crepes Day; France)

Mariä Lichtmess (Liechtenstein)

Matka Boska Gromniczna (Mother of God of the Blessed Thunder Candle; Poland)

Our Lady of the Candles (Filipino Catholics)

Quarter Day (Scotland)

Virgin of Candelaria (Tenerife, Spain)

Yemanja (a.k.a. Our Lady of Navigators; Candomblé)

Charming of the Plough (Pagan)

Columbanus of Ghent (Christian; Hermit) [Belgium, brewers]

Cornelius the Centurion (Christian; Saint)

Dabucuri ucuqui, (Initiation Rites of the Young Men; to Jurupari, South American Guarani/Tupi God)

Festival of Juno Februa (Ancient Rome)

Groundhog Day (Pastafarian)

Imbolc, Day 2 (a.k.a. Oimelc; Celtic, Pagan) [1 of 8 Festivals of the Natural Year]

James Joyce (Humanism; Saint)

Lawrence, Archbishop of Canterbury (Anglican Church)

Martyrs of Ebsdorf (Christian; Martyrs)

Raya (Muppetism)

Roger Corman Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint) 

Sophocles (Positivist; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Lucky Day (Philippines) [7 of 71]

Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]

Uncyclopedia Bad to Be Born Today (because it's always cold and miserable on February 2. Unless you live in Australia, in which case it's hot and miserable.)

Premieres

Alyered Carbon (TV Series; 2018)

The Benny Goodman Story (Film; 1956)

Cinema Paradiso (Film; 1990)

A Clockwork Orange (Film; 1972)

Ghost in the Shell (Anime Film; 1996)

The Great Train Robbery (Film; 1979)

The Last Continent, by Terry Pratchet (Novel; 1998) [Discworld #22]

Long Day’s Journey into Night, by Eugene O’Neill (Play; 1956)

Louise, by Gustave Carpenters (Opera; 1900)

The Midnight Special (Music TV Series; 1973)

O Brother, Where Art Thou? (Film; 2008)

Oliver’s Army, by Elvis Costello (Song; 1978)

Pam & Tommy (TV Mini-Series; 2022)

The Point!, by Harry Nilsson (Animated TV Special; 1971)

South Pacific (Broadway Musical; 1949)

Susie Q, recorded by Dale Hawkins (Song; 1957)

A Trick of the Tail, by Genesis (Album; 1976)

Twelfth Night, by William Shakespeare (Play; 1602)

Ulysses, by James Joyce (Novel; 1922)

Today’s Name Days

Bodo (Austria)

Marija, Marijan, Svjetlana (Croatia)

Nela (Czech Republic)

Leegi, Säde (Estonia)

Aamu, Jemina, Lumi (Finland)

Théophane (France)

Bodo, Mariä Lichtmess, Stephan (Germany)

Ipapanti, Ypapante, Ypapanti (Greece)

Aida, Karolina (Hungary)

Maurizio, Sabatino (Italy)

Spīdola, Spidols (Latvia)

Kantvydas, Rytis, Valdemaras, Vandenė (Lithuania)

Jomar, Jostein (Norway)

Joanna, Korneliusz, Maria, Miłosława (Poland)

Inna (Russia)

Erik, Erika (Slovakia)

Candelaria, Purificación (Spain)

Aleta, Aletha, Alethea, Alida, Alita, Lita (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 33 of 2023; 332 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 5 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Luis (Rowan) [Day 12 of 28]

Chinese: Month 1 (Jia-Yin), Day 12 (Xin-Mao)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721(until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 11 Shevat 5783

Islamic: 11 Rajab II 1444

J Cal: 3 Xin; Threesday [3 of 30]

Julian: 20 January 2023

Moon: 92%: Waxing Gibbous

Positivist: 5 Homer (2nd Month) [Sophocles)

Runic Half Month: Elhaz (Elk) [Day 9 of 15]

Season: Winter (Day 44 of 90)

Zodiac: Aquarius (Day 13 of 30)