#he dared her to be crucified and she took every single step

[vyragosa]

there’s a study wanting to be made about the depiction of stigmatas in death stranding -brain immediately explodes-

[rekrappeter]

finding a true love’s kiss

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: you couldn’t stand fred weasley, yet you were best friends with george weasley. it was a strange dynamic until you end up in detention with fred and he reveals a secret he has been hiding for years

warnings: not proofread, written weeks a part, inaccurate Harry Potter vocab probably, shitty ending

notes: this was originally for @lunalovecroft‘s writing challenge but I wrote one part like two months ago but hopefully it’s still legible to some extent. prompt used was “you can hate people and still think they’re hot”

"How long have you and George been friends?" Katie Bell aimed the question at you, diverting your attention from the burgundy rug underneath you to the curious eyes of your roommates anticipating your answer. You were all sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, creating a circle as you delved into the usual Friday night gossip session.

Pondering on the question for a second, you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, "since the beginning of time it seems."

"Yet you've never... did it?" The girls squealed around you, clapping their hands in excitement. With wide eyes, you denied the question to no end.

"Did I have sex with George?" You spluttered out, feeling your face flush, "absolutely not."

"Why not?" Angelina pushed, wanting to get more details from you.

"I'll have you know," you started, lifting yourself from the floor and making your way to your own single bed, "myself and George are only friends, that's it."

Angelina eyed Katie as you turned your back to them, stripping from your white buttoned-up shirt and replacing it with a cozy pyjama top. "What about Fred?"

The silence was deafening, no one dared to laugh or squeal this time around. You stared down at the white material dangling from your fingertips, a sickening feeling forming at the pit of your stomach. When you scoffed, the girls’ shoulders loosened and they let out a sigh of relief when you turned to them with an amused smile on your face. "Fred and I can’t even be in the same room together for longer than needs be, never mind long enough for us to... do the deed."

“I don’t know, y/n,” Katie drawled on, standing up and walking over to you, she squeezed your shoulders as she said, “I think it’s all the sexual tension building up.”

Pushing her away from you, you faked gagged in their direction, “You two are crazy.”

“I just don’t understand how you can be best friends with one twin, and hate the other one,” Katie laughed, changing into her own pajamas and climbing on top of her unmade bed. “But we see the way he is around you.”

“Yeah, an ignorant jackass,” you chuckled, flopping down onto the bed.

“More like a boy picking on the girl he has a crush on,” Angelina said.

“Please, don’t make me sick,” you shuffled into your bed, pulling the quilt up to your chin. Angelina switched the lights off, leaving you in complete darkness. You listened to her maneuver in the dark, trying to dodge the mess you all made. Hearing her muffle profanities made you giggle, assuming she walked into something or kicked a lifeless object.

“You know, y/n, you can hate people and still think they’re hot,” you rolled your eyes at Angelina’s words, twisting in your bed and letting out a loud exhale into the pillow.

“Thanks for the words of wisdom, but Fred Weasley is not hot,” your voice was filled with distaste, your lips smacking together loudly to get your point across but you knew it would fall on deaf ears. Your friends never listened when you told them over and over again that you weren’t hiding feelings for Fred, the relationship you had with him will forever be non-existence.

It was safe to say that the conversation from the night before had left a sour taste in your mouth. You were woken from a sweet slumber by the sound of birds chirping through the opened window; normally, you’d groan in annoyance but enjoy the sound. This morning, however, was different. It was as if the birds had clawed their way into your brain and changed a few wires, you climbed out of the bed with the sudden urge to crucify the loud creatures. One look at your face and Angelina was twirling on her heels and made her way out the dorm room, leaving you to your own devices.

Mornings were usually the quietest time of the day for you. You would get up and skip down to breakfast but this morning you couldn’t even work the courage to plaster a fake smile on your face as you entered the Great Hall and your mood remained foul at the sight of Fred Weasley sitting beside his twin brother. Heaving in a sigh, you sat across from George and started piling the breakfast onto your plate.

“Jesus, don’t you look awful this morning,” Fred’s voice echoed through your thoughts.

Snapping your head in the direction, your eyes narrowed, “you really want to start this early?”

“This started a long time ago,” Fred snapped back at you, the smirk on his face making you roll your eyes to the heavens. You ignored him, looking at George who has a pleading expression on his face.

“Don’t even say it,” you mumbled, reaching for the milk and pouring it into the bowl of cereal in front of you.

“There’s no point, I’m sick of saying it,” your best friend said.

You ate silently, listening to the twins bickering and there was something about Fred’s voice that was eating at you. Despite knowing him for years, it was familiar, more familiar than usual. You glanced up from your spoon, unconsciously connecting your gaze with Fred. You shocked yourself by not looking away or flipping him off, and it surprised you when it looked as if he fell into a dream. The longer you looked at him, a warning signal was going off in your head  and then something clicked in your brain. All the color drained from your face, fear striking through your body.

“y/n, what’s going on?” George asked, grabbing your hand but you pulled it back and scrambled from the table, walking quickly out of the hall. Everything came flashing back - everything you dreamt about last night.

“You’re being so damn annoying today,” you hissed, pushing Fred away from you as he reached across the table to grab something. It was just you and him in the kitchen of the Burrow, a place you spent numerous holidays but it was quieter than usual.

“You’re annoying every day,” Fred retorted, taking a bite of the red apple. He leaned against the countertop, looking at you flicking through the book in hand. You rolled your eyes, stalking away from him but you could hear his footsteps follow you, “Why do you hate me?”

You looked over your shoulder, brows creasing in confusion, “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Fred repeated.

“I don’t hate you, Fred,” you muttered softly, feeling the air thicken around you. You turned to face him, watching him swallow awkwardly and you could see it in his eyes; he didn’t hate you either. Without another word being uttered, you closed the gap between your bodies and connected your lips to his.

“Fuck,” you muttered angrily, remembering the dream that soon turned into a nightmare. You’ve never dreamt about Fred before, he may have been in the background of some but he was never the main character, he was most definitely never the love interest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“That’s a lot of fucks given,” George chuckled, pushing his way past students walking towards The Great Hall, “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, G.”

George raised one brow in the air, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he examined you closely, “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” you popped, brushing your hair out of your face and stepping out to the courtyard, “Just remembered a nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?” You immediately shook your head, earning a laugh from George who nodded understandingly. “Most likely about my brother being a dickhead, aye?”

“Something like that,” you laughed, trying to push the lingering face of Fred to the back of your mind.

The day slowly passed by, your mood gradually getting worse throughout it. Every free second that your mind was preoccupied with studying or maintaining a conversation with someone, it wandered off to the same red-haired that starred in your dream last night. It wasn’t the usual thoughts that you had about Fred that consisted of wanting to punch him in the face or lock him in a broom cabinet. It was worse than that, you found yourself seeking him out and admiring how he twirled his quill between his fingers. The anger that usually washed over you whenever you looked at him was non-existence. It was more of a longing feeling and it terrified you.

You had spent the majority of the day in the library, not wanting to confront George and definitely not being able to be in the presence of Fred. You were slowly making your way back to the common room, trying to procrastinate it as much as possible hence why you took the long route around the castle. What you didn’t expect was to hear an explosion from up ahead and a strangled yell of annoyance but it was enough to put the puzzles together.

Just as you were about to round the corner, a figure stumbled into you and knocked you to the floor. You gripped out for the robes that made you lose your balance and brought them to the ground as well with them landing on top of you. A flash of red-hair made you groan and your eyes connected to Fred’s wide brown ones. It startled you, the image of him kissing you making your stomach nauseous.

“Shit, get up!” Fred exclaimed, jumping from your body and he waited for you but you were still in a shocked daze. He groaned and gripped your robes, pulling you up and running along the corridor with you trailing behind him. “In here,” he demanded, opening the door and pushing you inside with him.

The rough gesture brought you from daydream, realisation kicking in and you pushed Fred away from you. “What the hell?” you yelled, fixing your robes and hair that was a mess but you were consciously aware of them now.

“Shut up,” Fred demanded, covering your mouth with his hand. Your eyes widened again, feeling your heart hammer against your chest at the close proximity of his body to yours. Your eyes darted around his face, his eyes closed as he tried to listen intently to whoever was searching for him. The freckles danced along his nose, similar to how George’s were but with Fred, they were evenly spaced and spontaneous. His eyes lashes were full and long, you envied them. His lips were uneven, his top lip thin and his bottom lip full but they looked so kissable in that moment. When his eyes fluttered open after seconds of silence, your eyes lingered on his for a moment longer. You wondered if he felt the shift in emotion between you, or if it was one-sided. “I think it’s safe.”

You feigned a roll of your eyes and licked the palm of his hand, earning yourself a look of disgust from him. “I don’t even want to know what you did…” you mumbled, glancing around the room he pushed you in; an unused office except it was piled with broken chairs and tables, unopened boxes were on top of each other, some materials spilling from them.

“Of course you don’t, it’d be too much fun for you,” Fred retorted, stepping away from you and stumbling over a box behind him. You laughed loudly, ignoring him flipping you off as you opened the door to the office and stepped outside, only to be met with the peering eyes of Professor McGonagall.

“Professor..” you gasped, trying not to stare too much at the black ashes swept through her hair, “W-what happened to you?”

“Funny you should ask, Miss y/l/n,” her glasses hanging at the end of her nose, “I’m not at all surprised to see you, Mr. Weasley, however, y/n, I do hope that detention tomorrow will give you enough time to think about your actions.”

“P-Professor -,” you stuttered but you were cut off.

“This office looks like it needs a good tidy,” McGonagall peered into the damp and dark office, “It’ll at least keep you both busy on a boring Sunday, without magic.”

You stalked away from Fred when McGonagall excused you, the anger was bubbling inside you and you ignored his chuckles as he followed you back to the common room. “Wait up, y/n.”

You twirled on your heels, getting ready to give this man a piece of your mind when you looked over his shoulder to spot the other twin making his way towards you. A grin was on George’s face until he spotted the two of you, and it deflated just as quickly. “Where did you go?” He asked Fred, shoving his shoulder.

“I bumped into this headwrecker,” Fred pointed towards you. You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “McGonagall found us.”

“And we both have detention tomorrow,” you deadpanned, glaring at the twins.

“Oh,” George mumbled.

“Oh? Oh? That’s all you can say,” you sighed in frustration, “Because you two are complete gits, I have to sacrifice a whole Sunday and spend it with this twat.”

“I don’t know which bit she’s more annoyed about,” Fred whispered under his breath to George, but you could hear him clearly. You groaned and marched towards the common room, not seeing George and Fred share a look of amusement.

“I’ll give you one guess,” George laughed, shoving his brother again and following after you.

The dreaded hour of the clock struck and you were leaning against the cold, brick wall with your feet stretched out in front of you. Your eyes were glaring at the locked door of the office you misfortunately got dragged into yesterday evening by your so-called enemy. Your developing feelings for Fred ceased before they even got the chance to blossom into something real. The trouble he caused you left a sour taste in your mouth, a permanent frown on your face.

“Miss y/l/n, good morning,” Professor McGonagall greeted you, her eyes scanning the empty corridor for a certain ginger twin but she sighed and shook her head disappointingly when he was nowhere to be seen. With a quick swift of her wand, the door glides open and you follow her into the room with a heavy exhale. “Please do use these hours wisely, maybe even consider building bridges.”

The frown deepened on your face, first because of what she had implied and then secondly because your eyes danced around the room and it looked even worse than what you remembered. Ignoring her previous implications, you questioned her desire to how tidy she wanted this room. With an echoed laugh, she turned her attention to the door barreling open and Fred slipping through the door, “Ah, Mr Weasley, just when I was starting to get worried.”

You turned your back to Fred, not having the energy to deal with him, and you missed the smile he sent your way. “You know I’d never disappoint you, Professor.” You rolled your eyes at the charm lacing through his tone, distancing yourself as far from him as you could and started stacking tables on top of one another. You grimaced at the layer of dust flying around you and tried to swat it with no success. The sound of Fred chuckling made you glance over your shoulder to see him standing there alone, the door clicking on McGonagall’s way out.

“What?” you snapped.

“What?” Fred mimicked you, sitting down on a random chair. He kicked his feet up on a desk, tilting back in the chair slightly and swinging his arms behind his head.

“So what? You’re not going to do anything?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “You got us into this mess.”

“You’ll actually soon realise that if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have got caught.” Raising your brow in his direction, you challenged his statement. “If you weren’t being weird and staying at the library, I wouldn’t have bumped into you and we wouldn’t have been in this office.”

You scoffed, “If you weren’t such a dimwit, we wouldn’t have been in this office.”

“Dimwit, wow,” Fred chuckled, “What age are you, five?”

You stared at him in disbelief, shaking your head and letting out an annoyed sigh, “Just do some fuckin’ work.” You turned on your heels, letting his next sentence fall on deaf ears as you blocked him out. You tried to ignore him as best as you could, the next thirty minutes passing by excruciately slow. It seemed that after five minutes of sitting, Fred got bored of his own company and started stacking chairs and pushing them into the corner with ease.

“Where are you spending the holidays?” Fred asked, breaking the silence.

“Why do you want to know?” you retorted earning a groan from him. You turned your attention to him, watching him lift his navy jumper over his head. Your eyes fell to the exposed area of his abdomen as his t-shirt got caught in the process, you felt yourself becoming flushed and looked away quickly before you got caught. “I’m going to my Grandma’s,” you gave in, finally answering his question.

“I thought Ginny mentioned something about you staying with us.”

“Y-yeah, that was the original plan but I have to go back home,” you mumbled, feeling the sides of your mouth twitch.

“Is everything okay?” Fred asked, he sat on the top of a desk, his legs dangling beneath him. You found yourself closing the gap between your body as the conversation went on, becoming weirdly comfortable with him. This was probably the longest you have ever been in the same room with Fred alone and the hatred that was so often accompanied between you was elsewhere. It felt strange.

You shrugged your shoulders, not knowing what has got into you, why were you opening up to Fred Weasley? “I got a letter from my parents last week, grandma is ill so..”

“That’s understandable,” Fred sighed, his eyes lingering on your features. You avoided his eye contact, feeling the air thicken between you, “Why do you hate me?”

The question caught you off guard and he could tell straight away when your eyes snapped to his and your brows creased together, “What?” you choked out.

“Why do you-”

“No, I heard you,” you snapped, running your fingers through your hair, “What made you ask that?”

Fred pouted, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he thought of a reasonable explanation as to why he was trying to change the dynamics between you. “Honestly, I don’t know, I just want to know why you hate me so much.”

“Fred, why do you hate me?”

“Because you hate me,” he chuckled. His words made you laugh, shaking your head and when he looked up at you, he couldn’t help himself but start laughing as well and soon enough, you both were laughing together in disbelief.

When the laughing died down, you were standing closer to him with a smile tugging on your lips, “You’re a bit of a twat,” you said.

“And you’re a bit of a princess,” he smirked, his brown eyes sparkling in amusement. It was easy to see the differences between Fred and George; in your eyes, they looked completely different. George’s smirk made you want to cradle his face whereas Fred’s smirk made you want to slap it off his face, with your own lips. The thought awoke you from the daze you were in, panic washing over you to see Fred’s features softening. He let out a shaking breathe before he wrapped his fingers around the material of the checkered shirt you were wearing. The startle movement made you stumble forward, but before you could protest, his lips found yours swiftly. For a split second, you felt yourself float away, to a place where there was none of this back and forward conflict. A place where you could relish in one another's company.

It was a happy place, but that was before your eyes shot open and a loud gasp ceased the moment. You pushed him away, wiping your lips with the sleeve of your shirt. "w-what the bloody hell was that?"

You wanted to smack the smirk off Fred's face, the amusement swirling in his eyes irking every bone in your body. "c'mon, it was bound to happen.."

Any ounce of respect that had developed in the last couple of hours that you gained for Fred completely vanished and he could tell by the way you were gawking at him in shock, “It was never going to happen,” you snapped. You stepped away from him, shaking your head.

“y/n, it’s all too expected,” Fred tried to defend him, sitting up from the table he was leaning on, “in all those movies and tv shows you watch, the two that hate each other the most usually fall in-”

“They’re movies, Weasley!” you shrieked, the walls shaking with the tone, “They’re fantasy, they’re… they’re not real life.”

“Why can’t they be?” Fred wondered aloud.

It took you a moment to process his question, your eyes shifting to look at him finally. You watched him gulped, his bottom lip sucked under his teeth, and it all fell into place. The vulnerable look on his face, the pleading in his eyes, made you soften slightly, your heart hammering against your chest. “D-don’t tell me you love me,” you whispered.

Fred’s shoulders lost all the tension they held, drooping down along with the frown on his face that gave you all the answers you needed. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

“Fred,” you breathed out, “This is bizarre.”

“You’re acting as if I had a bloody choice in the matter,” Fred hissed, his long fingers running through his hair, brushing it away from his face.

“Of course you do!”

“No, no I didn’t,” Fred stalked up to you, his body towering over you but he wasn’t angry or annoyed, he was desperate, “I woke up one morning and had these sudden feelings for you, but do you understand how hard it was for me when you couldn’t even be in the same room as me?”

You opened your mouth to answer him, but common sense made you see it was a rhetorical question, so you closed it and only stared up at him with wide eyes. There was nothing you could say in this moment to make it better or to make any sense of it. “When?” was all you asked.

“Christmas,” he answered honestly, making your brows cease together, “three years ago.”

“Three years?” you gasped, “Why did you act like you hated me?”

Fred sighed, creating space between your bodies again, “I thought the more I pretended to hate you, eventually my heart would catch up and stop loving you but..” He turned his back to you, swallowing back the heartache he was feeling and placed his hands on the table in front of him, his hands balled into fists. But he only fell in love with you more.

“I’m sorry,” he heard you whisper, the feign touch of your hand on the back of his shirt before it disappeared just as quick. Fred took a few moments to himself, trying to control his breathing and when he turned around to face you, he was met with emptiness. You were nowhere in sight, your bag that rested on the back of a chair gone as well. “Fuck,” Fred mumbled, wanting to scream into the abyss but pulled out his wand and muttered a quick spell to tidy the rest of the office up, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to escape.

Fred hid under the radar for the weeks that passed, hardly being the usual trickster that people were fond of. Everyone that passed the sulking boy in the corridor sent him looks of confusion, some even asked if he was okay to which he brushed them off. George had become worried when it was week three without tormenting any of the professors, and because George was worried beyond reason, you were non-stop hearing about Fred and it pained you knowing that you were the reason for his sudden change in behaviour.

Christmas came and went, the snow started to melt and the leaves were blossoming once again. It was safe to say you were enjoying the peace and quiet in Hogwarts, not having to come up with a comeback every five minutes to fight off the irritation that was Fred Weasley. Deep down, however, there was an abundance of loss. You missed him. It shocked you more than anything but it was true. You missed the sound of his voice, you missed his smart ass comments, you missed him more than you ever thought you would. Maybe there were some underlying feelings and your mind was brought back to the dreams that he occupied, the theme of them made it feel more real.

Sighing into your breakfast, you came to the realisation that morning that you had in fact had feelings for Fred Weasley. “What’s got you mopping?” your eyes lifted to see George sitting down in front of you, no sign of Fred anywhere. The Great Hall was rather crowded for this hour in the morning, there was a buzz in the air.

“I just realised I had feelings for someone,” you admitted loudly, earning every inch of George’s attention, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“And what are you going to do about them?”

Your eyes connected with your best friend’s stare, your brows creasing together. “You know?” you asked hesitantly, earning an eye roll from George.

“It’s not hard to put two and two together, kiddo,” he chuckled, pouring himself some orange juice, “he’s down at the Quidditch pitch.”

There were so many questions running through your mind but there wasn’t much time. The feelings were overwhelming and you were near sure that you’ve missed your chance with whatever could possibly blossom between you and Fred. You darted from the Great Hall, pushing past crowds of students, ignoring their displeased looks and ran like your life dependent on it towards the Quidditch pitch. When you arrived, your lungs burning and your heart racing, your mood deflated seeing the area completely empty. With your hands on your hips, you tried to catch your breath, sweat beading on your hairline. “Fuck,” you breathed out, turning on your heels but only to halt in your step at the sight of Fred Weasley.

“Looking for me, y/l/n?” he questioned, his voice not as daunting as it used to be. It was flat and soft, something new for him.

“You’re the guy that pretended to hate a girl for years to make her fall in love with you, right?” you asked, a small smirk tugging at the ends of your lips. Fred rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “What if I told you it worked?”

“I’d say buzz off and stop messing with me.”

There was a moment between you and Fred, a moment of understanding where he stared at you from where he stood, the pleading in both of your eyes that showed this was just as awkward for you as it was him. It was different. The change in your interactions was something to get used to, wanting to be around Fred was new. Wanting to kiss him was a thought so out of this world that it blew you away. “I’m sorry I had you sulking for so long.”

Fred chuckled, taking a few steps closer to you until there was just enough space to breath in. For the first time in his life, Fred felt nervous staring at the person that he longed for for so long. “It would have been easier for us both if you just told me you felt the same that day.”

“Life’s never easy, is it?”

“Not when you’re involved,” he winked, the familiar smirk making its way back to his face for the first time in weeks, “I know I didn’t ask permission last time, but..”

“Yes,” you breathed out, this time being the one to wrap your fingers around his collar and pulling him towards you. Your lips pressed against his, the kiss soft and expected this time. Your lips moved in sync, his arms circling around your waist and pulling your closer. The kiss was perfect, and it was something you could get used to.

[archived-gtronpa-account]

It’d be interesting to see a giant Rantaro

Yiiis!! I don't recall seeing a whole lot of giant Rantaro (or even tiny Rantaro) around here so this is the occasion to give the cool//hot avocado man some 💚🥑💚🥑

____

Word count: 2700

Summary: After one of her friend's dares goes awfully wrong, Himiko makes the unlikeliest encounter.

____

During one of the numerous festivals at Hope’s Peak, three classes gathered up to share their ghost stories.

“… And if you go to the girl’s bathroom on the third floor at three thirty-three, they say you’ll see the lonely spirit of a girl with round glasses and long twin braids. And if you try to confess your love to her…” Sayaka stopped her narration, the pause punctuated by the crackling of fire. The moon shone bright overhead and cast a gentle light on the pop star’s face; a serene atmosphere that certainly didn’t help set the eerie ambiance she was going for.

“Wh-What happens?” Kaito kept a tense, stoic face, but his deathly grip on Maki’s arm was enough to betray his discomfort.

“Oh, oh! She’ll slice you up with her scissors and leave your body crucified,” Hiyoko cried out.

“Well yeah,” Sayaka sighed and shot a glare at the smaller girl, “Apparently, her body was found like that after she confessed to someone.”

“She was probably killed by the rich prick she was stalking,” Hiyoko sent a smirk to the ultimate writing prodigy.

“Th-That wouldn’t be such a bad way to die.” Toko kept a firm gaze on her lap and hid a smile behind an awkward grimace, unaware of the attention on her.

A new silence settled in among the group, most creepy stories having already been explored.

“Hey, hey! Anyone hear of some monster lurking there?” Ibuki nodded towards the forest near the academy.

“Some kind of green, hairy beast, I hear,” Hifumi nodded solemnly to himself and readjusted his glasses, “Kind of like Shaymin.”

“Soo, anyone wanna go check it out? Kazu’?”

“No way I’m going in a forest at night! Don’t wanna get caught in a bear trap or somethin’. Why not, uh… Chihiro?”

“A-Ah, I think I’ll pass as well.”

“Then what about Himiko?”

The mage in question stirred and lifted her head up from Tenko’s lap. “Don’t,” She yawned, “… wanna. It’s such pain…” She closed her eyes and went on to resume her nap, but Kokichi woke her up again.

“Shouldn’t be such a pain with your amazing magician skills, right?” Himiko’s eyes shot open to glare at the boy.

“’m not a magician, I’m a mage.” She grumbled out.

“Dunno ‘bout that,” Akane looked up from her meal for the first time that night, “Magic, huh? Kinda sounds like one of Hiro’s scams.”

Himiko’s chest burned at the comment. She straightened up and glared around at the group. “My mage skills aren’t a scam. My magic is real, it’s real, it’s real, it’s real-”

“Tenko won’t let anyone doubt Himiko’s magic.” Tenko stood and stepped in front of Himiko in a battle stance. The smaller girl frowned at the gesture; it made her somewhat feel like a defenseless pet in Tenko’s eyes. She could take care of herself.

“My magic’s real, ‘nd I’ll prove it if I just…” She looked behind her to the looming trees, ready to swallow whoever dared venture in, “… Gotta go there. Even if I’m really tired.”

Tenko looked back at her with wide eyes and opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but was cut off by Kaede chiming in, “Don’t worry, Himiko, I’ve already been there and it’s safe.”

“Take this with you then,” Mahiru held a camera out to her, “You can take a picture if you find some monster or anything interesting.”

Himiko took the small device and turned on her heels, ready to ignore a certain aikidoka’s protests and go prove her worth. Armed with a little camera and her spells, the mage ventured deep in the dark woods.

…

The air started to get thicker, cold seeped under her skin. Himiko wrapped her arms around herself and muttered some spells she could only hope would keep her from freezing. While she’d been taking a nap close to the campfire, she had forgotten how chilly the night was. The prospect of going back right then was tempting, but the image of her classmates calling her magic a scam and Tenko coming to her defense with some poor excuse was enough for the mage to chase off the idea and keep going with all the passion and determination she had in her (it wasn’t much, but it would have to do.)

…

Himiko could swear that at some point, the trees around her had hit a growth spurt. They towered far over her head and no matter how hard she squinted, the girl couldn’ catch sight of a single star past the clutter of leafs. If she’d had enough mana, she would’ve made the trees go back to normal, but she was too tired for that, so she only walked further down her path in search of some monster she wasn’t even sure existed.

…

Himiko was so tired. She had no idea what she was even trying to prove to her stupid classmates. She could go back and say she hadn’t found anything and lay her head back on Tenko’s lap and drift off into a nap. But… Not yet.

“Hey…” She called out, “If there’s any monster in here or something, ‘m not afraid. Show yourself!” Brave mage she was, Himiko brandished her camera up to the sky, (almost) defying any scary creature to come at her.

In her feat of bravery, she forgot to keep an eye on her path, and her mind went blank with terror when the next step she took was on thin air.

Her grip on the camera tightened. There was a flash of light before she shut her eyes and bursts of pain overtook her small body. There were cuts and hits and cracking and rustling and freezing air rushing past her burning skin- Then everything stopped, and she didn’t feel a broken bone among the mess of pain in her body when she met solid ground.

Himiko’s hand slowly reached to her shoulder. She shuddered and panted as she let all the small shots of pain through her body melt into a single feverish sensation.

For maybe hours, or days, or only minutes, Himiko lay there, silently letting the pain sink in and holding her body back from jolting. With a groan, the girl cracked an eye open. It was still night time and there were no starts shining over her head. She glanced back at murderous slope she’d slipped on, and tried to understand if her vision was hazy or if she’d really fallen from that height without even getting concussed.

Lazy, unfocused brown eyes drifted further off ahead and met an odd tuft of green that wasn’t a tree. Further down, there was a-… There was a pair of eyes of the same green focused on her.

And no stars shone over her head because there was a massive head blocking them out.

Himiko’s mouth fell open to scream, but the sound died in her throat into a near speechless, panicked, “A-Ah…”

“Hey now, calm down, it’s alright.” The soft voice was that of a human boy, but it was the giant’s lips that were moving. There was a giant, absolutely massive monster in the forest like the legend said, and Himiko couldn’t think of any spell or any trick to get out of his clutches, and she found her mind stuck on a single thought, ‘I should have listened to Tenko.’

The mage rose to her feet, ready to run and hide, but something twisted in her leg and made her fall back on her back with a gasp. The only sensation that registered for her then was the warmth and softness of the large hand she realized she was on. The stark contrast to the rest of the forest was jarring enough that she had to hold back from retching.

Gravity pulled her down once again, and the massive face slowly got further and further away from her hazy vision. Then there was warm flesh all around her, blocking her view and pressing against every inch of her body and ready to suffocate her-

And all at once, it came to an end, and Himiko exhaled a shaky breath of relief when she felt cold, damp soil on her back and neck.

“There, not so bad, was it?” There was the whispering again. Himiko closed her gaping mouth and attempted to steady her breathing as she tried to take in the sight before her eyes. The giant’s lips still moved and he talked to her more and more. He looked like a human boy in every aspect, save for the terrifying height. The words –of comfort, she guessed,- fell on deaf ears for the mage who was caught up in whispering protective spells and incantations to herself, over and over until the words got tangled on her tongue and lost all meaning and comfort.

The offending hands came for her again, and despite her body’s screaming and protests, the girl pushed herself upright with her good arm and scooted back, only stopping when she caught sight of gauze at plate-sized fingertips.

Tentatively, Himiko allowed one of the fingers to brush over her injured leg. She hissed when a tender spot was pressed. “D-Don’t…!”

“It’s fine, sorry. Does it hurt here?” Instead of answering, she kept her eyes downcast and reached out to snatch off the gauze before backing away again. Compliantly, the hand backed off as well, and the giant stayed quiet.

If she remembered well, Mikan didn’t wrap wounds without cleaning them first, but the mage didn't have the luxury to ask for disinfectant from the beast boy that kept her cornered, so she had to do with less than that. She worked with one hand and left her right arm to hang lame at her side. More hissing and pain later, the unwelcome hand reached back to her leg. Himiko bit her lip and glanced up at the giant boy, but found his pressuring gaze only focused on her injury. Compliantly, she accepted the help and stayed quiet.

“Hah, I know I look scary, I get that a lot.” The whole way through, the strange giant kept talking to her. His voice was hushed as a whisper, but it still was louder and more powerful than the cheers of any audience she had ever performed for. “Don’t worry though, I promise I’m not a baddie.” It was unnerving and left her uncomfortable, but at least it served to distract her.

“I don’t…” sometime after most of her injuries were tended to, Himiko found her voice and courage again, “I don’t need your help.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” His hands still worked to patch her up, “But that arm of yours isn’t looking too good. You shouldn’t move it much for now.”

“Then I’ll use my magic.” That caught the massive boy’s attention, and his focus shifted from her injury to her face.

“Magic? So you’re a magician, huh?” She pulled her hat lower down her face to avoid the attention.

“’m not. I’m a mage, a real and true mage who does real magic.” She bit her lip and looked up at the giant boy in the eyes, “And I’m really powerful, so if you try to hurt me or something…” She left the threat hanging, unsure what she could do against such a strong guy with her currently low mana.

“Ah, that doesn’t sound too good. I better…” Himiko winced at a sharp tug at her side, but then the pair of hands hovering over her finally retreated, and she had room to breathe again. “… Not try anything then.” The giant held his hands up over his head, and they went past the tallest trees. If he reached higher, she was sure he could grab the moon in a fist. “Will you show me some of your magic when you get better?”

Himiko checked over her wrapped injuries, absently nodding. She noted that her earlier protection spells had worked and turned the legendary scary green monster into a friendly (and quite handsome) man.

When both of them stopped talking, Himiko had expected silence; instead, she heard rustling and crunched leafs and cracking branches. The sound was rhythmic and getting louder by the second, like steps walking her way- or rather, running.

“Himiko!” The girl in question nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden familiar voice.

“Hey,” she was startled again by the giant boy whispering to her. In his company, Himiko had forgotten that her classmates were still waiting for her to come back. She had no idea how she could explain the situation to Tenko, and she had to come up with something soon before the other girl found her and her new titanic aquaintence.

“Himiko? Shh,” Himiko watched the giant stranger bring a finger to his lips in a secretive gesture. Before she could question it, he got up on his feet and took several, quick steps back. The entire forest shook with his every step, and mere seconds later, before she even had time to gape at the sight, he had completely disappeared beyond the towering trees.

"Himiko! Are you alright?" Tenko's voice came above the smaller girl, who looked several feet up to where she'd been before her fall. In the darkness, she could barely make out a tall form in a blue girl's uniform.

"I-I'm fine!" Soon, her classmate would come down and join her. Himiko tugged at her bleazer and skirt to hide as much as she could of her injuries, and she barely had time to pick the discarded camera up before Tenko got to her. Besides the leaves and twigs stuck to her, she looked fine; and hopefully, her slight limp wouldn't be too noticeable

The taller girl fussed and worried over her, and Himiko only listened with one ear, gaze set instead where a titan had stood only seconds ago. She could have thought the encounter a dream if not for the bandages carefully wrapped over her wounds. That alone wouldn't be enough to prove she'd met a monster and gotten away thanks to her mage skills. The giant boy had seemed to prefer staying secretive anyway, so maybe that was for the best.

On the way to the academy, Himiko lingered behind Tenko with the camera in her hands, checking for any damage to the ultimate photographers' device. Curiously, she checked for the pictures saved in, and nearly sputtered when she saw a green tuft of hair and a pair of eyes of the same green.

[aboveallarescuer]

How Dany assesses the counsel she receives and makes her own choices - Dealing with the conflicts inside Meereen

This will be a series of posts meant to show that Dany is open to receiving advice and criticism, but that she doesn’t act solely based on what other people tell her to do. On the opposite, GRRM makes great effort to write a Dany who most often merges different viewpoints and/or finds her own solutions to the problems she’s facing. I won’t include every single decision she ever made (e.g. her decisions at court are often made without counsel and her execution of the ritual to hatch the dragon eggs was already exhaustively and deftly analyzed by other people), but there will be plenty of instances in this series that will prove my point nonetheless. The metas will always have four items: in which chapters the events mentioned take place; what advice she receives and from whom; what were her actions; the verdict (whether she followed other people’s advice, ignored/rejected them or did both at the same time).

Chapter (s): 

ADWD Daenerys I, II, IV, V, VI, IX

The advice Dany receives:

Barristan warns Dany that the Unsullied aren't well-suited to ask people about what happened to Stalwart Shield nor inquire about the Sons's activities (ADWD Dany I). In the reopening of Daznak's Pit, Barristan recommends that Dany uses the Unsullied to protect her rather than the Brazen Beasts due to his distrust in them, his uncertainty about their skills and his fear that the Sons are still around (ADWD Dany IX).

The Shavepate recommends the killing of a man from each family for Stalwart Shield's death and the killing of two if another death occurs (ADWD Dany I). He also suggests torturing the daughters of the wineseller while he watches (ADWD Dany II). Later, he urges Dany to kill the child hostages to prevent the murders from continuing (ADWD Dany IV). At last, he proposes torturing Hizdahr (because he believes he's involved with the Harpy's Sons) and seizing people from the ruling families so that Dany can get her ships back (ADWD Dany V).

Reznak is against any sort of punishment to the nobles for the Sons's murders (ADWD Dany I, II).

Daario is in favor of Dany gathering all the masters in the Temple of the Graces under the false pretense of marrying Hizdahr and killing them all (ADWD Dany IV).

Dany's actions:

We open up ADWD with Dany in her lion pelt sitting on her ebon bench. She is still asleep and couldn't even properly dress because the matter was too urgent for her to spare any time: one of her soldiers was killed.

“Your Grace,” said Ser Barristan Selmy, the lord commander of her Queensguard, “there is no need for you to see this.”

“He died for me.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

Like I said before, Dany's conception of queenship is one of self-sacrifice and accountability. Another ruler might have taken care of the matter at another time or even left it entirely to one of their advisors, but Dany wants to show gratitude (like she did with Doreah) and to take responsibility and not look away (like she did with the 163 children who were crucified).

The corpse is shown and Dany, because of the knowledge she acquired from her childhood in the Free Cities (she lived in six of the nine), is able to guess the man's origins:

The dead man’s face was smooth and hairless, though his cheeks had been slashed open ear to ear. He had been a tall man, blue-eyed and fair of face. Some child of Lys or Old Volantis, snatched off a ship by corsairs and sold into bondage in red Astapor. (ADWD Daenerys I)

Barristan begins to explain that the Sons were behind the attack, which they took responsibility by drawing a harpy on the bricks. Dany already knows how they operate, so she accurately intuits which material was used to draw it:

“… drawn in blood.” Daenerys knew the way of it by now. The Sons of the Harpy did their butchery by night, and over each kill they left their mark. (ADWD Daenerys I)

She then asks Grey Worm why the soldier was alone, since she had taken measures to prevent any of them from being killed:

“Grey Worm, why was this man alone? Had he no partner?” By her command, when the Unsullied walked the streets of Meereen by night they always walked in pairs. (ADWD Daenerys I)

Grey Worm, seemingly embarassed, admits that he went to "a house of pleasure", which Dany correctly guesses to be a brothel. Dany is empathetic and quite aware of the freedmen's difficult situation, so she makes no moral judgment about the fact that so many were opened lately:

A brothel. Half of her freedmen were from Yunkai, where the Wise Masters had been famed for training bedslaves. The way of the seven sighs. Brothels had sprouted up like mushrooms all over Meereen. It is all they know. They need to survive. Food was more costly every day, whilst the price of flesh grew cheaper. In the poorer districts between the stepped pyramids of Meereen’s slaver nobility, there were brothels catering to every conceivable erotic taste, she knew. (ADWD Daenerys I)

Even so, she doesn't understand why would an eunuch go to a brothel. Grey Worm responds that Stalwart Shield wanted "the women of the brothels to lie with him and hold him", an answer that profoundly affects Dany:

The blood of the dragon does not weep. “Stalwart Shield,” she said, dry-eyed. “That was his name?”

“If it please Your Grace.”

“It is a fine name.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

As I said before, Dany often uses the phrase "the blood of the dragon" to retain her composure and act as a proper monarch, and this moment is no exception: she reminds herself to not cry, makes sure she remains "dry-eyed" and praises his name. Because she's now emotionally affected by what happened, she can't help but wish for vengeance (which is normal, for it is linked with the desire for justice in her case) for his death:

Dany said a silent prayer that somewhere one of the Harpy’s Sons was dying even now, clutching at his belly and writhing in pain. (ADWD Daenerys I)

~

“Find these cowards for me. Find them, so that I might teach the Harpy’s Sons what it means to wake the dragon.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

Dany notes that he was the first of her soldiers that the Sons dared to kill. Barristan warns her that others will die, which is a cause of great distress for a queen who "belongs to her people, not to herself" and who recently made it clear that she wants to bring "peace, prosperity and justice" to the city:

I am still at war, Dany realized, only now I am fighting shadows. She had hoped for a respite from the killing, for some time to build and heal. (ADWD Daenerys I)

Then, she vows that Stalwart Shield will be remembered:

Shrugging off the lion pelt, she knelt beside the corpse and closed the dead man’s eyes, ignoring Jhiqui’s gasp. “Stalwart Shield shall not be forgotten. Have him washed and dressed for battle and bury him with cap and shield and spears.”

“It shall be as Your Grace commands,” said Grey Worm.

“Send men to the Temple of the Graces and ask if any man has come to the Blue Graces with a sword wound. And spread the word that we will pay good gold for the short sword of Stalwart Shield. Inquire of the butchers and the herdsmen, and learn who has been gelding goats of late.” Perhaps some goatherd would confess. “Henceforth, no man of mine walks alone after dark.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

Here, we see that Dany: a) orders for Stalwart Shield to be properly buried and honored, b) offers more gold to anyone who might give information about who was behind his murder and c) forbids all of her soldiers to walk at night so that they might not become casualties as well. Later, d) she names a company of freedmen after him and e) thinks about him when she considers giving away her personal happiness and sexual autonomy because "she owed it to her dead". She is, indeed, making sure that he's not forgotten.

Barristan counsels Dany not to use the Unsullied for the jobs she gave them because "they were made for the battlefield" rather than to "unravel secrets or ask questions". Dany considers both his feedback and her available options and concludes that the Unsullied are still the best choice for now, which displays her critical thinking skills:

“Would knights serve me any better?” Selmy was training knights for her, teaching the sons of slaves to fight with lance and longsword in the Westerosi fashion … but what good would lances do against cowards who killed from the shadows? (ADWD Daenerys I)

~

“Then who, if not Unsullied? Dothraki would be even worse.” Dothraki fought from horseback. Mounted men were of more use in open fields and hills than in the narrow streets and alleys of the city. (ADWD Daenerys I)

~

“When the Stormcrows return from Lhazar, perhaps I can use them in the streets,” she told Ser Barristan, “but until then I have only the Unsullied.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

Later, she meets with two of her advisors, Reznak (who is pro-nobility) and the Shavepate (who is anti-slavery). In keeping with her previous actions to remember Stalwart Shield, Dany demands that they call him by his name.

“We were told about the eunuch.”

“His name was Stalwart Shield.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

Then, we get this bit of exposition from the Shavepate, who reminds Dany of her large number of enemies:

“...Zhak, Hazkar, Ghazeen, Merreq, Loraq, all the old slaving families. Pahl. Pahl, most of all. A house of women now. Bitter old women with a taste for blood. Women do not forget. Women do not forgive.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

Which leads Dany, who is already angry for what happened to Stalwart Shield, to think about when she returns to Westeros and teaches the Usurper's dogs that she does not forgive. I've talked about this before here and here, but, while Dany is not right in reducing them to a single group, she is right that Robert should be held accountable for the deaths of innocent children, about which he did nothing to bring justice. 

There is more to what the Shavepate said, though: his overfocus on women, more particularly on "bitter old women", is another indication from the narrative (albeit not entirely conclusive) that Galazza Galare working against Dany. In fact, she might be the Harpy herself coordinating the Sons's attacks, if this passage from ASOS is any indication:

She had a woman’s face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion’s curled and venomous tail.

The harpy of Ghis, Dany thought. (ASOS Daenerys II)

~

Behind them, huge against the sky, could be seen the top of the Great Pyramid, a monstrous thing eight hundred feet tall with a towering bronze harpy at its top.

“The harpy is a craven thing,” Daario Naharis said when he saw it. “She has a woman’s heart and a chicken’s legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

Back to the advisors. They have different suggestions for Dany concerning what to do to prevent more deaths like Stalwart Shield's. The Shavepate favors killing a man from each noble family for Stalwart Shield's death now. If another death occurs, she should kill two from each noble family. Meanwhile, Reznak asks for restraint by saying that the murderers will be found and proven to be "baseborn filth". Dany ends up following Reznak's advice, not because she views the freedmen negatively, of course, but because of this:

“How can I punish them when I do not know who they are?” Dany demanded of him.

Dany doesn't want to punish people indiscriminately, and she will reverberate the same feelings later with three different people here, here and here. These moments show how using violent methods isn't Dany's comfort zone nor the first option that comes up in her mind (the torture of the wineseller and his daughters was certainly not her idea, for instance, even if she remains responsible for it). Instead, she wants to specifically target Stalwart Shield's killer, and she's not afraid of using her gold to do so, even if it brings no profit to her:

“How much gold have we offered for information concerning the Sons of the Harpy?” Dany asked.

“One hundred honors, if it please Your Radiance.”

“One thousand honors would please us more. Make it so.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

While we're at it, it's interesting to consider Dany's feelings on these men. This is how she describes the Shavepate:

Ghiscari hair was dense and wiry; it had long been the fashion for the men of the Slaver Cities to tease it into horns and spikes and wings. By shaving, Skahaz had put old Meereen behind him to accept the new, and his kin had done the same after his example. Others followed, though whether from fear, fashion, or ambition, Dany could not say; shavepates, they were called. Skahaz was the Shavepate … and the vilest of traitors to the Sons of the Harpy and their ilk. (ADWD Daenerys I)

First, Dany's shrewdness comes through in her guesses regarding why Skahaz's kin would shave like him - "fear, fashion or ambition". This is a great variety of reasons from her. And it's noteworthy that, for all the claims that she is too idealistic and naive (and she still is, to an extent, of course), she never considers that people might be following his example because of their devotion to his cause. Here, like in other moments, Dany proves that she has a healthy dose of skepticism about other people's intentions. When it comes to the Shavepate, she thinks he has a "brutal, angry face" and "prays it was an honest one as well".

That being said, I would say that her assessment of him is ambivalent, even more so when you compare it to how she judges Reznak:

The seneschal wore a tokar of maroon silk with a golden fringe. A small, damp man, he smelled as if he had bathed in perfume and spoke a bastard form of High Valyrian, much corrupted and flavored with a thick Ghiscari growl.

~

The seneschal was as bald as Skahaz, though in his case the gods were responsible. “Should any hair be so insolent as to appear, my barber stands with razor ready,” he had assured her when she raised him up. There were times when Dany wondered if that razor might not be better saved for Reznak’s throat. He was a useful man, but she liked him little and trusted him less. The Undying of Qarth had told her she would be thrice betrayed.

I know Dany is made to be suspicious of Reznak because she suspects (reasonably) that he is the "perfumed seneschal", but one could speculate that there is more to it. Reznak is wearing a tokar, described earlier by Dany as as "a master's garment, a sign of wealth and power". It is a major symbol of the social inequality that favors the masters over the freedmen, which Dany is quite conscious and critical of. Because she is an abolitionist figure who wants equality for everyone, it's only natural that she feels uncomfortable using it (and ends up rejecting it, as she does the peace). When it comes to Reznak, I wonder if seeing him willingly use it might make Dany unconsciously predisposed to view him in a harsher light. Accordingly, she also thinks that his High Valyrian is a "bastard form" for being "corrupted" with his "Ghiscari growl".

It must be said, however, that, in trying to associate Dany's discomfort with the Meereenese culture with her hatred of slavery and giving little page time and development to the freedmen (who could've been three-dimensional and diverse like the Free Folk), the one group she is advocating for, GRRM can make Dany look "intolerant" to readers who aren't that interested in her, and this particular instance with Reznak could be interpreted as such. Then there's also the fact that Dany views Reznak negatively partly because he has conventionally feminine traits, something that she has in common with Ned (and his views on Varys) and that I discuss here.

Anyway, to sum up my thoughts on the Shavepate and Reznak, I wanted to show how she views the latter more negatively than the former, even though she follows the latter's advice. That's because Dany doesn't rely on a single viewpoint, but only on her own.

In ADWD Daenerys II, Dany is informed that nine freedmen were killed in one night, which frightens her. Because she cares about giving the freedmen justice, her (righteous) outrage at seeing them suffer is that much deeper. After finding out that the murderers weren't conclusively identified, but that suspects were found, Dany initially asks for them to be interrogated, though she is skeptical of their innocence:

They all plead ignorance and beg for mercy. “Give them to the Shavepate. Skahaz, keep each apart from the others and put them to the question.”

“It will be done, Your Worship. Would you have me question them sweetly, or sharply?”

“Sweetly, to begin. Hear what tales they tell and what names they give you. It may be they had no part in this.” (ADWD Daenerys II)

But then, she finds out that Rylona Rhee was tortured and killed, which brings us to this controversial moment:

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon’s mercy. “Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply.”

“I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him.”

“Do as you think best, but bring me names.” Her fury was a fire in her belly. (ADWD Daenerys II)

I've already written my thoughts on this scene, so I'll just say this: however morally questionable Dany's actions were here (and they were morally questionable), they can't be decontextualized (the Shavepate had seeded the idea, as I said before), they can't be divorced from the reality of this world and they can't be reduced to vengeance when that's linked to justice and when monarchies tend to be (and even encourage the ruler to be) inherently arbitrary.

Then, Dany makes plenty of decisions on her own to guarantee the safety of her Unsullied:

“I will have no more Unsullied slaughtered. Grey Worm, pull your men back to their barracks. Henceforth let them guard my walls and gates and person. From this day, it shall be for Meereenese to keep the peace in Meereen. Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen.”

“As you command. How many men?”

“As many as you require.” (ADWD Daenerys II)

Which then leads Reznak to question how she'll pay them. She decides that the nobles will suffer consequences this time:

“From the pyramids. Call it a blood tax. I will have a hundred pieces of gold from every pyramid for each freedman that the Harpy’s Sons have slain.” (ADWD Daenerys II)

She also makes it clear that she won't let any of the nobles flee from Meereen with resources this time:

Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Meereenese, great and small alike. “Let them go, but see that they take no more than the clothes upon their backs. Make certain that all their gold remains here with us. Their stores of food as well.” (ADWD Daenerys II)

Because Dany left the Yunkish's financial resources intact, they ended up "return[ing] to slaving as soon as she moved on" and "rais[ed] levies, hir[ed] sellswords, and [made] alliances against her". Now it seems that Dany is learning her lesson and not letting the enemy retain power if she is able to neutralize it. One could argue that this is just to pay the soldiers' wages rather than a decision made based on her previous mistake, but again, it is still a sign that she is learning from what happened before, which is commendable.

Reznak tries to persuade Dany to be more lenient by pointing out the nobles' concern for their children. His comment has the opposite effect on Dany. She thinks she is also afraid for her own and then makes another decision on her own:

“We must keep them safe as well. I will have two children from each of them. From the other pyramids as well. A boy and a girl.”

“Hostages,” said Skahaz, happily.

“Pages and cupbearers. If the Great Masters make objection, explain to them that in Westeros it is a great honor for a child to be chosen to serve at court.” (ADWD Daenerys II) 

Dany's handling of the situation here is, once again, very interesting. Like in Stalwart Shield's case, you could say that she only followed the counsel of a single advisor - she chose Reznak's side before and now she chose Skahaz's. However, analyzing these situations that way would greatly oversimplify Dany's decisionmaking. As we see in this case, she makes all the major decisions on her own: she asks for the wineseller and his daughters to be questioned; she asks for the Shavepate to create a new watch; she creates a blood tax to compensate for the deaths of the freedmen and pay the soldiers she'll employ; she makes the decision to take hostages in case the murders continue.

In the next chapter, we get more information on the Shavepate's new watch, the Brazen Beasts. Dany says that the Sons fear them, which may or may not be true since she's putting up a front to be resist Xaro's thinly disguised attempts to undermine her power, confidence, achievements and skills. Even so, it seems to have been a successful decision:

“...They fear my Brazen Beasts.” Skahaz mo Kandaq had given her the new watch she had asked for, made up in equal numbers of freedmen and shavepate Meereenese. They walked the streets both day and night, in dark hoods and brazen masks. The Sons of the Harpy had promised grisly death to any traitor who dared serve the dragon queen, and to their kith and kin as well, so the Shavepate’s men went about as jackals, owls, and other beasts, keeping their true faces hidden. (ADWD Daenerys III)

I'll talk about this more on another post, but, in the context of the military forces that Dany created, it's convenient to mention that she also organized the freedmen to better defend the city without anyone's advice:

“My freedman—” Dany started.

“Bedslaves, barbers, and brickmakers win no battles.”

He was wrong in that, she hoped. The freedmen had been a rabble once, but she had organized the men of fighting age into companies and commanded Grey Worm to make them into soldiers. (ADWD Daenerys III)

Even then, however, the killings still continue in ADWD Daenerys IV, which affects Dany a lot:

“...More freedmen died last night, or so I have been told.”

“Three.” Saying it left a bitter taste in her mouth. “The cowards broke in on some weavers, freedwomen who had done no harm to anyone. All they did was make beautiful things. I have a tapestry they gave me hanging over my bed. The Sons of the Harpy broke their loom and raped them before slitting their throats.” (ADWD Daenerys IV)

(This passage may also be hinting at something else...)

However, she doesn't have it in her to murder innocent people, much less innocent children.

Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.” (ADWD Daenerys IV)

Besides Dany's moral principles, her outlook should also be contextualized by her life experiences - as a child whom her enemies tried to kill and as a mother whose child was also targeted, Dany's reluctance is very understandable. However, by taking hostages and not harming them when the Sons still continued to act, Dany implicitly stated that she won't react as ruthlessly as one might expect from the Mother of Dragons, which, unfortunately, puts all of the freedmen in jeopardy.

I've talked about this before, and I'll be brief here because I intend to make another post about Dany's attempts to merge with the Meereenese, but, for the sake of context: I believe that the Green Grace is manipulating Dany in ADWD Daenerys IV. She tactfully mentions the Shavepate as someone who would be okay with killing children while then contrasting him to Hizdahr, the "perfect" husband for Dany to take if she wants to give the city peace (unjust as it is). As for Hizdahr, this exchange is relevant here, for it shows both Dany inquiring him about the Sons and, I would argue, his manipulation:

“Why should the Sons of the Harpy lay down their knives for you? Are you one of them?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you were?”

He laughed. “No.”

“The Shavepate has ways of finding the truth.”

“I do not doubt that Skahaz would soon have me confessing. A day with him, and I will be one of the Harpy’s Sons. Two days, and I will be the Harpy. Three, and it will turn out I slew your father too, back in the Sunset Kingdoms when I was yet a boy. Then he will impale me on a stake and you can watch me die … but afterward the killings will go on.” Hizdahr leaned closer. “Or you can marry me and let me try to stop them.”

“Why would you want to help me? For the crown?”

“A crown would suit me well, I will not deny that. It is more than that, however. Is it so strange that I would want to protect my own people, as you protect your freedmen? Meereen cannot endure another war, Your Radiance.”

That was a good answer, and an honest one. (ADWD Daenerys IV)

I don't think Dany was wrong when she described Hizdahr as "cunning" two chapters ago. Not only there is a lot of textual evidence that suggests that he is working with the Sons (here and here), but the arguments he makes here seem fabricated and designed specifically with the intent to appeal to Dany's desire to protect her people ("Meereen cannot endure another war") and avoid more collateral damage ("let me try to stop them"), all the while painting the Shavepate very negatively ("Skahaz would soon have me confessing").

With no good options here, Dany promises to marry Hizdahr on one condition:

“Peace is my desire. You say that you can help me end the nightly slaughter in my streets. I say do it. Put an end to this shadow war, my lord. That is your quest. Give me ninety days and ninety nights without a murder, and I will know that you are worthy of a throne.[”] (ADWD Daenerys IV)

After her decision, this is how Dany thinks that her two counsellors will react:

The Shavepate will not be happy with me, but Reznak mo Reznak will dance for joy. Dany did not know which of those concerned her more. She needed Skahaz and the Brazen Beasts, and she had come to mistrust all of Reznak’s counsel. Beware the perfumed seneschal. Has Reznak made common cause with Hizdahr and the Green Grace and set some trap to snare me? (ADWD Daenerys IV)

Even here, where one might think that Dany is being fooled by the nobles, the writer makes an effort to show that that's not the case. Dany is not entirely trustful of them and considers if the three are setting some trap for her. Like I've emphasized so many times above in this post, the author works hard to showcase how Dany's political goals and views are not the same as those of any of her advisors, nor does she ever rely entirely on any of them.

Since the marriage is Dany's solution to ending the recent terrorist attacks in the city, I also need to point out what Barristan suggests to Dany here:

“[I]t is important to me that you should understand. My people are bleeding. Dying. A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. A wedding or a war.”

“Your Grace, may I speak frankly?”

“Always.”

“There is a third choice.”

“Westeros?”

He nodded. (ADWD Daenerys IV)

I've said it before and I'll say it again: if/when Dany decides to leave for Westeros, it won't be an "immoral and awful" decision (as Feldman says here). Fighting for her claim to the Iron Throne will simply be acting like any feudal lord would. In fact, framing Dany's eventual change of attitude as negative is very, very unfair, not only because she was already doing and sacrificing far more than she had to (as the book passage above shows), but also because she was never going to have a perfect and unambiguous victory in Slaver's Bay, no matter how much time she stays or how much effort she puts.

Anyway, back to discussing Dany's decisionmaking. In the same chapter, she explains to Daario (who had just returned from his mission to Lhazar) how the chaos in her city came to be, so he urges her to pretend she will marry Hizdahr only so she can gather all of the Great Masters in the Temple of the Graces and kill them all. These are her reactions:

“We have no proof this is their work. Would you have me slaughter my own subjects?” (ADWD Daenerys IV)

~

“Do you take me for the Butcher King?”

“Better the butcher than the meat. All kings are butchers. Are queens so different?”

“This queen is.” (ADWD Daenerys IV)

As we see once more, Dany is not willing to use indiscriminate violence against the Meereenese, even if she hates them. Daario tells her that a queen who won't be a butcher is a queen who is only a "brood mare" (as Cersei puts it), which Dany doesn't take well. She asks, angry, if she forgot who she is, and he makes the same question to her. Then, she finally orders him to leave.

I have more thoughts on Daario's advice, but I'll get to them later.

In ADWD Daenerys V, twenty-six days have passed without a single murder. The Shavepate is clearly irritated; he makes, in my opinion, a very convincing case when he says that Hizdahr's visits to several pyramids indicate that all of these families were aligned with the Sons and that he is conspiring with them. Dany is not so sure:

Skahaz was convinced that somewhere in Meereen the Sons of the Harpy had a highborn overlord, a secret general commanding an army of shadows. Dany did not share his belief. The Brazen Beasts had taken dozens of the Harpy’s Sons, and those who had survived their capture had yielded names when questioned sharply … too many names, it seemed to her. It would have been pleasant to think that all the deaths were the work of a single enemy who might be caught and killed, but Dany suspected that the truth was otherwise. My enemies are legion. “Hizdahr zo Loraq is a persuasive man with many friends. And he is wealthy. Perhaps he has bought this peace for us with gold, or convinced the other highborn that our marriage is in their best interests.” (ADWD Daenerys V)

While it could be argued that Hizdahr's words ("I do not doubt that Skahaz would soon have me confessing") have partly shaped Dany's views on the matter, I don't think her reasoning should be reduced to his influence. It makes perfect sense for the attacks not to be coordinated by a single person and that they are happening concurrently and being financed and ordered by different people at the same time. It also makes perfect sense for Hizdahr not to be directly involved with the killings (though I think he is), but rather that he has plenty of friends and managed to convince them to end the Sons' activities with bribery.

Perhaps more importantly, as @rainhadaenerys questioned in a conversation we had: even if the Green Grace (the one character most often identified as the Harpy) was found as their leader and arrested, would it have stopped the Sons' killings? It seems much more likely that they would have continued (either with the Sons or with another faction), because there are too many nobles interested in bringing her down. As Dany realizes, "[her] enemies are legion". That's a pretty solid conclusion. Maybe she would only be able to stop them if she followed Daario's advice (hence why she thinks about it one chapter later), which she is not willing to do.

Whatever happens, my point is that Dany's guess is logical and may even come to pass, so it's not a sign of stupidity at all that she couldn't imagine that the priestess Galazza Galare is the Harpy.

The Shavepate asks for Dany authorize his torture of Hizdahr, which she forbids:

“No,” she said. “I do not trust these confessions. You’ve brought me too many of them, all of them worthless.”

“Your Radiance—”

“No, I said.” (ADWD Daenerys V)

While I don't think that this is a situation that can be merely described as "Dany learned that torture is wrong" because there are several other factors at play, it's also true that she is the only ruler we've seen onpage ordering them to be stopped. Like I said when she proposed to take the gold and food from the nobles who would leave Meereen, it seems that Dany is learning from her mistakes.

Then, the Shavepate suggests sending the Brazen Beasts to the pyramids of all the ruling families of Meereen and seizing them so that Dany can win back the ships that she lost. Instead of trying to make his advice more appealing to Dany, he continues to press on the need for violence, which she has already made clear she'll avoid and reiterates it again:

“If I send the Brazen Beasts into the pyramids, it will mean open war inside the city. I have to trust in Hizdahr. I have to hope for peace.” Dany held the parchment above a candle and watched the names go up in flame, while Skahaz glowered at her. (ADWD Daenerys V)

It's quite noticeable that the Shavepate is out of his depth when the other person won't agree with his methods.

However, despite Dany's insistence to maintain a more moderate course of action, we see that she is aware that this choice makes her vulnerable:

Afterward, Ser Barristan told her that her brother Rhaegar would have been proud of her. Dany remembered the words Ser Jorah had spoken at Astapor: Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died. (ADWD Daenerys V)

Let's contextualize the advice. When was it received and how did Dany deal with it? Was that good advice from Jorah? I would argue that it was not, since he was trying to normalize the training of the Unsullied and the existence of slavery in general as necessary evils if Dany is to win the game of thrones. However, his advice was useful in another sense: sometimes you can't play by the rules if you intend to succeed. And so, like with Viserys and Drogo, she found a solution that was informed by Jorah's influence while also being her own: by refusing to view the slaves as objects to be traded, Dany considered the deal illegitimate and sparked an abolitionist campaign that would influence an entire continent. In other words, Dany did not play by the rules (like he advised), but not by compromising her moral principles (like he intended), but because of her moral principles.

So, why are we being reminded of that advice now? Before I write my own interpretation, I also want to point out that Daario's advice from ADWD Daenerys IV stays in her mind long enough for her to remember it two chapters later (which very likely means that the author is trying to say something with it):

Get the heads of all the noble houses out of their pyramids on some pretext, Daario had said. The dragon’s words are fire and blood. Dany pushed the thought aside. It was not worthy of her. (ADWD Daenerys VI)

Dany has these thoughts when she is forced to make more compromises for the sake of her marriage. I want to make a separate post centered on her attempts to merge with the Meereenese nobles, so I won't dwell on the particular context of this passage here. What I want is to call attention to the fact that Daario's advice serves a similar purpose to that of Jorah's. Like Jorah, Daario also thinks Dany should compromise her moral values for the sake of her goal (in this case, crush the resistance inside her city). So, what are we to make of these moments? (Keep in mind that this is all speculation)

Someone who defends the peace agreement would call them "temptations", but, as I've argued here, I believe that war is the only righteous option in this particular case. Daenerys's eventual mindset shift, which is seeded in the two passages above, do not indicate that she's turning her back on the freedmen, but rather that she is turning back into the Daenerys of ASOS who made this statement:

“Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!”

“Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire. (ASOS Daenerys III)

Just as Dany's use of draconic force was once associated with freedom, I believe they will be framed as righteous once again in TWOW. The author's choice to have Dany remember Jorah's advice in ASOS Daenerys II makes me hopeful. Like I said above, Dany was given a suggestion and filtered it to make it her own decision. In ADWD Daenerys IV, Daario also asks her not to conform to accepted moral standards, and she remembers his words later on. Instead of that signaling her "downfall" or "moral degradation" or anything that doesn't make sense with her characterization, I think it's much more likely, considering her characterization and her pattern of actions, that she finds a different way that integrates both dragonfire and her morality. This is not to say that everything will go smoothly - I've expressed my doubts and apprehensions before concerning how far GRRM will take the negative consequences of Dany's crusade (and they will emerge, just like they did later in Astapor, because Dany's storyline never has easy and uncomplicated solutions), but, still, I think what both @rainhadaenerys and @yendany suggest in their posts here and here is much more likely, so I'll sum up some of their points here: a) believing that dragons plant no trees is not the ultimate conclusion of Dany's character development, b) understanding when, why, how and to which extent violence is necessary and justified is key and c) a dragon is not a slave because it ultimately won't abide to an unjust and false peace and, by embracing her identity, Dany will be better able to protect her children.

There isn't much more to say about how Dany handled the conflicts inside the city because the Sons only resume their attacks after Dany is gone and Hizdahr is arrested by Barristan and the Shavepate. She does receive advice from Barristan that is related to what I've been discussing in ADWD Daenerys IX, however. In this chapter, he says that he'd rather have Dany be protected by the Unsullied rather than the Brazen Beasts. Half of them are untried freedmen, he argues, and the other half is left undescribed, but Dany intuitively understands what he means:

And the other half are Meereenese of doubtful loyalty, he left unsaid. Selmy mistrusted all the Meereenese, even shavepates.

Even with the suspicions about their allegiance, Dany still goes through with her decision to use the Brazen Beasts as her guards:

“And untried they shall remain unless we try them.” (ADWD Daenerys IX)

~

“How should Meereen ever come to trust the Brazen Beasts if I do not? There are good brave men beneath those masks. I put my life into their hands.” (ADWD Daenerys IX)

Dany said in the previous chapter that she "was forgetting how to trust", but we see here that that's not really true. During the feast, she was particularly unhappy and miserable about the concessions she was making and how vulnerable to the Yunkish she was becoming, so it was understandable that she would have thoughts charged with frustration. However, now that Dany seems a bit more content and less angry here, once again, her attitude goes back to being one of open-mindedness as it usually is. This makes for compelling and believable (rather than simplistic or contradictory) characterization.

I also like how this decision emphasizes Dany's awareness that a leader should be an example for her subjects (a recurring attitude that goes back to ACOK). Like I've said plenty of times already, she always holds herself accountable - if Queen Daenerys shows that they are trustworthy, eventually, the citizens of Meereen will also feel safe under the protection of this new city watch.

Finally, to appease Barristan, Dany reminds him that she has him and Belwas by her side, which she believes should be enough. Now we've come full circle: if, in ADWD Daenerys I, Dany considered Barristan's feedback and her available options and chose the one she thought was the least worst for a job (the Unsullied), here in ADWD Daenerys IX she is shown doing the same thing (the Brazen Beasts). She's willing to trust in her freedmen both at the beginning and the end.

How Dany assesses the advice she receives

Barristan Selmy

Barristan warns Dany that the Unsullied aren't well-suited to ask people about what happened to Stalwart Shield nor inquire about the Sons's activities (ADWD Dany I).

Dany considers her available options and concludes that the Unsullied are still the best choice for now.

In the reopening of Daznak's Pit, Barristan recommends that Dany uses the Unsullied to protect her rather than the Brazen Beasts due to his distrust in them, his uncertainty about their skills and his fear that the Sons are still around (ADWD Dany IX).

Dany still decides to use the Brazen Beasts as her guards because she thinks she should trust them before everyone else does.

Daario Naharis

Daario is in favor of Dany gathering all the masters in the Temple of the Graces under the false pretense of marrying Hizdahr and killing them all (ADWD Dany IV).

Dany is horrified by Daario's suggestion and, after he challenges her, sends him away.

 Reznak mo Reznak

Reznak is against any sort of punishment to the nobles for the Sons's murders (ADWD Dany I, II).

In the first chapter, Dany follows his advice, but not because she is pro-nobility, but rather because she doesn't want to punish people indiscriminately.

In the second chapter, Dany doesn't follow his advice.

The Shavepate

The Shavepate recommends the killing of a man from each family for Stalwart Shield's death and the killing of two if another death occurs (ADWD Dany I).

Dany decides not to follow his advice because she is avoiding to punish people indiscriminately. 

He also suggests torturing the daughters of the wineseller while he watches (ADWD Dany II).

Dany follows his advice.

Later, he urges Dany to kill the child hostages to prevent the murders from continuing (ADWD Dany IV).

Dany doesn't follow his advice because she doesn't want more innocent children like Hazzea dying.

At last, he proposes torturing Hizdahr (because he believes he's involved with the Harpy's Sons) and seizing people from the ruling families so that Dany can get her ships back (ADWD Dany V).

Dany doesn't follow his advice because his previous tortures didn't bring any trustworthy results.

Verdict

Dany takes responsibility for Stalwart Shield's death by a) waking up at night, b) ordering that he's properly buried and honored, c) offering more gold to anyone who might give clues about the murderers and d) forbiding her soldiers to walk at night. All of these decisions are made on her own.

Dany increases the offer of gold for information concerning the Harpy's Sons from one hundred to one thousand honors. This decision is made on her own.

Dany allows the torture of the wineseller's daughters by the Shavepate after his manipulation.

Dany a) orders Grey Worm to release the Unsullied from their duties at night, b) creates the Brazen Beasts (and a blood tax to pay them), c) forbids the nobles from leaving the city with their gold and stores of food and d) takes two hostages from each pyramid. All of these decisions are made on her own.

Dany organizes the freedmen into three companies (Mother's Men, Stalwart Shields, Free Brothers). This decision is made on her own.

Dany promises to marry Hizdahr if he's able to give her ninety days with no murders in the city. This decision is made on her own.

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was CASSIEL, an ANGEL loyal to the cause of the ANGELS. She is said to be IMMORTAL and uses SHE/HER pronouns. In this New Testament she serves as a MEMBER of the VIRTUES. Blessed be her name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

The first Virtue of Faith -- who had once been so uniquely tied to the Virtue of Hope -- was abruptly  felled and who would be awarded such prestigious honor but Cassiel? The honor suited her well and she bore the burden of its weight with the utmost grace. Her gift lay in the eye of the beholder and made her uniquely suited to serving as an ambassador to both Sanctus Terra and the realm of Infernum. Whoever looked upon her saw her luminous face, yes, but in her they also saw the definition of beauty -- which could render them utterly awestruck and completely defenseless if they did not bother to keep their wits about them and look beyond it. But in order for such an ability to be potent and near-infallible, Cassiel had to truly understand what her opponent thought to be beautiful in order to encapsulate it. But by and large, she knew that her own beauty was formidable in it of itself.  Though wielding a blade is something she is quite capable of, it is far more satisfying for her to know that her enemies were vanquished by nothing more than her wide, beautiful grin.

THE HISTORY.

It is said that God rendered her from the sweetness of laughter -- others say it is the pretty pink flush that is evoked from a doleful bat of the eyes in the cheeks of a maiden. Still others sigh that a creature as beautiful as was likely spun from the sweetness of honey cakes, decadent on the tongue and sweet to the point of saccharine. The consensus was this: there was nothing sweeter nor a creature more deserving of ardor than the angel Cassiel. Whether the reasoning be the ease of her rueful grin or the sweetness of her words, they feel to their knees before her like wheat to a scythe. God Himself dictated that it would be so, enchanted as He was by the wide eyes that looked up at Him, the laughter that spilled from her lips like wine from a cup overflowing -- a single draught of it, never quite enough. So He had her sit at the foot of His throne, keen to hear more of it, to see the smile the curved the edges of her lips, the glimmer in her eye as offering upon offering was set before her while her brethren bowed her head and gazed upon her as she sat on her gilded pedestal. She was granted the title of Cherubim -- an envious thing to hold, at one point in time, though she was never asked to wield a blade in the name of God or instill fear in the hearts of man in His name. The Father of Creation doted upon her, his angelic darling, so dear to all; but was it not a rather easy thing, to be an angel when one wanted for nothing?

When He was feeling benevolent, He would bid the favored angel to visit the earth, allowing some semblance of beauty into their finite, mortal lives. For a brief, blinding moment, all the beauty that they needed was brought to them in the form of the beguiling Cassiel, who was all too content to bask in the fawning and awe of the blessed humans -- their mystics, saints, and martyrs. And though she did not care much for them, she could not deny that there was a certain enticement that they offered; their saintliness would allow her to indulge in the libations that were placed at her feet. Do unto others, she’d intone, with a beatific smile upon her features, as you would have them do unto you -- for this is God’s greatest commandment. So, of course, they would treat each other as kindly as they could, and for her, God’s luminous messenger, they would bring finery; silks and satins, jewels and gold, creating wondrous art and rendering her image before the throne of God. She bid them to do more and how could they deny her? For in their goodness and virtue they could refuse her not. So when she stepped foot upon the earth, it was decadence. When she sat on the dais before the throne of God, it was unabated adoration. Cassiel’s want took root and it was no longer confined to the choir of angels within heaven, but it took root upon the soil of the earth and no mortal could deny her. Like a rot within the tooth, her need for libations and adoration grew.

The reach of her hunger reached a stone wall when she was ripped from her seat of prestige by her brethren’s mutiny. Being so close to God’s heart, they had known that there was little chance of her duplicity -- had thought that she would not dare to lift her blade against her Creator. It was clear that they knew little of her mercurial heart. What was once heaven began to turn into her hell and in her desperation to remain as an adored creature among them, she turned against those who she had once stood with. The names of the Cherubim, one after the other, were listed off by Cassiel. She stood before Michael, lips set in a pout, eyes wide, and sought to earn her place in the kingdom of Caelum through none other than blatant betrayal. Those who had sworn their fealty to God and had fought to keep him seated in His kingdom of rotten gold now had their wings torn from their backs or now found their lives forfeited. And all it had taken were no more than a bat of doleful eyes and a quirk of lips that had once been mistaken for Aphrodite’s. Michael had her sit and watch as one, then the other was dragged before the court of Caelum, demanded that she look on as they were forced to kneel and had their punishment allotted to them. How she sighed as she sat and watched, eyes flickering this way and that in boredom as she began to realize that the eyes of all were not turned towards her -- but to those who had been too prideful to think of their self-preservation.

Once she used to sit in a place of honor, used to be regarded as someone that was adored and coveted in equal measure. Cassiel was used to wanting for nothing, once imbibed in the ripeness of existence and lavished in the utterly unique experience of living in a state of utter perfection. But that was torn away from her -- brutally stolen in a whirlwind of fire and fury. As the world began to evolve and breathe anew, so too did her need for her place of prestige. Carefully, she cultivated that which she had been denied in the face of Michael’s initial fury, utilizing the blessings that had marked her as beloved. To her, it was too long, but it was within a matter of a couple of years before she regained the adoration that she was due -- and soon followed the elevation of her status. Among the Virtues she found some semblance of recognition, but still, there stirs within her a rotting need for a crown to rest upon her brow, for her visage to be venerated. She finds her eyes drifting towards the throne that Michael occupies, lets her fingers rest upon its arm when it is vacated. It is so easy to imagine her there, beside them -- or sitting upon it, even. But she has been patient...enough. It won’t be long before they fall upon their knees before her once again, singing praises in her names and rendering her beguiling image in marble and gold. Her heaven had been razed -- so she, in turn, will raze the earth if that is what it takes for her to regain all-consuming adoration she had grown so intoxicated on once more.

THE CONNECTIONS.

ZADKIEL: Loose end. Perhaps a little foolishly, she had hoped that all the Cherubim would be felled -- that Michael would propose a culling. It was why she had listed the names of those she had once stood next to, bearing the arms of God. The thought of any consequences had been such a faraway notion that Cassiel had, in truth, thought little of what might happen were there any Cherubim that might escape the judgement of the angels. Zadkiel, above all, had been one that she had hoped would meet his end -- not because she didn’t care for him, on the contrary she adored the angel, but primarily because she had wanted to escape the fickle notions of guilt and remorse. He had been the one to serve her in heaven, had gladly taken her under his wing and now she wonders if he is the final nail that needed to be placed in order to crucify her...then again, she has escaped so much unscathed -- she has every confidence that she will be able to escape this.

AZAZEL: Adversary. They are two creatures so alike -- the ability to beguile is something every being covets and very few are able to obtain; to ensnare, enchant, and enthrall -- an ability to treasure. And yet where the two diverge is even more telling; Azazel chose to lose herself within the putrid kingdom of hell while Cassiel remained within the pristine gates of heaven, untouched and venerable, still. How she had clapped her hands in utter delight when she had witnessed the purging of her adversary. Yet Azazel has ascended within the hierarchy of hell while Cassiel has seen her status dissipate at her fingertips, forcing her to sink her nails into what little power she wielded and grasp for every vestige of social ascent that there was to offer. She has learned to claw her way to glory, while Azazel has done little more than think of it before an abundance of adoration is thrown at her undeserving feet. It is high time then that Cassiel teaches the doted-upon demoness what it is to live without.

CADE BEKKER: Gratification. Whenever she finds herself doubting her own prowess, Cassiel seeks Cade out. He is always so fickle and begrudging, but it takes nothing more than a doleful bat of her lashes before he seems mollified and eating out of her palm once more. There is always so much hemming and hawing that transpires on his end -- as though he thinks himself immune to her nature. In truth, there is something uniquely gratifying about the way that he seems to pull away, but still she has no issue in luring him back to her, with a very pretty grin as a means of thanks. She doesn’t think much of the fact that he has become something of a comfort to her, like how mortals hold onto a trinket when all the world seems in disarray. No, it is better not to question it and keep the mortal close, if only to serve as a means of exercising the potency of her abilities and the development of her ambition.

VIKTORIA: Crown. There are few who are able to appreciate Cassiel’s ambition, and even fewer who seek to foster it. It was no small thing when Cassiel found herself within Viktoria’s line of sight -- the renowned Horsemen’s gaze fixated on the lithe angel. To be acknowledged by them was the foundation upon which Cassiel established the renewal of her determination. It was because of Viktoria’s tutelage that she found herself vying for a position within the Virtues, nails sharp and teeth bared for any of those who dared to stand in her way. It was because of Viktoria that Cassiel found a usefulness for her hunger, no longing letting it be a creature that puppeteered every one of her wants and needs, choosing instead to wield it as one might wield a blade. It won’t be long, she thinks, before Viktoria becomes her ally and helps her sit by the throne.

Cassiel is portrayed by Kelsey Merritt and was written by ROSEY. She is currently TAKEN by TARYN.

[timelordthirteen]

We Are Inside Out (Sutherelle fic)

Robert Sutherland/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A conflict leads to something more, in the past and the present.

Notes: I don't know what I'm doing, but they have taken over my life. Send help. I'm putting all these in a series since there is no real plot to speak of, just some stuff. And some pointless smut.

[AO3]

About 1 year ago...

"Do you want this job?"

It was an unexpectedly simple question, and Belle blinked, watching as Sutherland leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a large man, but there was something about his presence that loomed larger than the physical space he occupied. She’d been here for two weeks, and as much as she’d tried to be careful, it was inevitable that she would fuck up.

Her brow furrowed. “Yes, of course, I -”

He started to laugh, and she stopped. The sound was almost cruel, as if she were a child who had exasperated him with her antics. Her hands pulled at her skirt, bunching the tweed fabric.

He shook his head and huffed. “Then fucking act like it!”

He sighed and sat forward, hands folded over the blotter on his desk. “I cannot have a fiasco like we had this morning, do you understand? I’m the Prime Minister of Great Britain, and I looked like a fucking idiot showing up for a meeting that was already over!” His lips pulled back, baring his teeth as he sucked in a breath. “This isn’t secondary school, Miss French. I didn’t fuck off seventh period with my mates, I missed a video conference with the President of France!”

She stayed quiet until he finished shaking his head again and then pushing away from the desk.

“I’m sorry.” She shrugged when he looked at her. “I don’t know what else you want me to say. I made a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”

“You’re fucking right it won’t.” His mouth set in a hard line. “Or you’ll be seeking new employment, outside this government.”

Her lips twitched and she looked down in her lap, smoothing her palms over the rough nubs of gray woven between the finer black threads. “You don’t like me.”

Sutherland frowned and sat back. “What was that?”

“You don’t like me. Here. In this job.” She looked up and met his gaze, folding her hands over her knee.

His eyes narrowed, studying her, almost irked by her calm response to his outburst, and then pushed to his feet. “Why do you say that?”

Belle sighed and let her body relax against the curved leather behind her. “Marshall said you wanted someone else, someone with more experience.She said she had to all but force you into hiring someone who was under the age of 50. You thought my CV was too slim, that I’d be too nice, that every square jaw with a trust fund that walked into this office - which seems to be about every ten minutes in this country - would get through your door just because I’m single and of childbearing age.”

“No, that’s not -” He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Anna would say it with her special brand of tact that was not unlike a cricket bat to the face. “Look, experience matters. It’s -”

“Is that because of your wife?”

His mouth hung open, eyes widening at her words. She was still, studying him, her head tilting slightly. A sensation rippled down his spine and he curled his hand into a fist. She was the earliest one everyday, almost compulsively. He knew because he’d watched her. She didn’t do it to impress, she did it because it was what it took to get the job done, and up until this morning she’d done it very capably.

After a rocky start, he finally felt settled in his administration, like he had his feet under him. Belle was part of the machine now, part of what kept him going on a daily basis. He depended on her, and that was why he’d felt so let down by her mistake, understandable as it was. A garbled message on a bad international connection, a typo in an email; small conspiracies combining to fuck up his day, and hers. It still scared the hell out of him, something he'd never say, that she still could sit here in front of him, and not look away, not be cowed by his authority.

He laughed again, but this time it was softer, realer. “You’re right. And no, it’s not anything to do with my wife. Rachel’s...she...” He sighed. “It’s not about her. At all.”

Belle gave him a small smile. “It’s alright, I get it. I’d underestimate me too.” He met her eyes, mouth curving crookedly, and she made herself look away for a second. “But you have to respect me if we’re going to work together.”

Sutherland leaned on the edge of his desk and nodded, his body sagging with the weight of the day. “I do. And I’m sorry.”

She exhaled and then stood up, stepping closer and touching her hand to the desk. “It’s give and take, right?”

He shifted and swallowed, staring down at the gap between their fingers. It was something he’d said to his staff on his first day, a way to try to make it about the whole. Duty first, Queen and country; position was secondary to that, to all of them. It was why they were here.

“You're going to take something from me,” she continued, “and I'm going to take something from you, and this job. That’s how it works.”

“Right,” he managed, throat strangely dry. She’d be lucky if she left this job with only minor scarring. They all would be. “I’m afraid that’ll be quite unbalanced, Miss French.”

She caught his gaze and smiled. “Life isn’t even.”

Sutherland nodded, and she moved back, crossing to the door as his cell phone rang out. She looked back before she left, but he’d already turned away. The ringing stopped as he glanced at his phone, the screen bright as he read it over.

1 Missed Call: Rachel Sutherland

The door shut and Sutherland thumped his fist against the table.

Marshall was right and the whole thing was a fucking mess. He was going to stick to his guns though, hold out until there was no other choice. It was a matter of pride, however foolish, but he couldn’t show weakness, not at this tenuous time. The party and his administration needed to be a united front, even if the press ripped him a new arsehole, which of course they would.

“So,” Belle started, tapping some papers into alignment before setting them on top of her legal pad. “We negotiate with terrorists now?”

He looked up and scowled. “Excuse me?”

She shook her head and folded her arms. There was a nagging pain in her head that had not improved during the meeting, and she had hours of notes to type up on top of the three reports he wanted to her precis for tomorrow. “Marshall’s wrong. The Opposition -”

“The Opposition...” he snapped, stepping up until they were toe to toe, using his authority to loom over her, “is for me to worry about. I’m the fucking Prime Minister. It’s not you or Anna or anyone else they’ll try to crucify for caving on your party.”

Eyes narrowing, she held up her hands in front of her, nearly touching the lapels of his suit jacket. “It’s a valid concession, and it doesn’t weaken anything about your position. You’re being stubborn, and you -”

His lips pulled back in a sneer as he pressed forward. He wasn’t here by chance, in this building and this office. There was a trail of blood and sweat and tears behind him, most of it not even his.

“You forget your place, Miss French!”

Belle stumbled back a step, colliding with the wall. Sutherland was almost pressed against her, so close she could feel the heat of his body and smell the warm, earthy scent of his cologne. Her eyelids fluttered and she swallowed hard, annoyed not only at his attitude, but at how nothing had resolved from their moment in the conference room weeks ago. Everything had gone back to normal, and he hadn’t said or done anything since their awkward conversation. He’d put her off every attempt she’d made to bring it up again, and now a mild irk had bubbled up into a simmering anger.

She tipped her face up, meeting his eyes as her lips came dangerously close to his. “Where is my place exactly, Mr. Prime Minister? At my desk outside your office? Or on my knees sucking your cock?”

Sutherland’s eyes darkened as his body reacted to her words. “Would you like that?”

She leaned back against the wood paneling, licking her lips slowly and smirking at the way his eyes followed every movement. “Almost as much as you would.”

He sucked in a breath and then braced a hand on the wall, bringing his body into contact with hers. He should have left, should have pushed away from the situation and not played into her game, but the catch in her breath and the light puffs of air from her pink, parted lips drew him in. She let out a small noise, and he dipped his head, brushing his nose along hers, hovering his mouth just out of reach of her lips until she pushed back.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, tipped his head back slightly when she tried to pushed up and catch his mouth. Then he shocked her by sliding a hand behind her, lifting her leg and the pleated skirt of her dress, and pressing himself against her. He was hard and hot already, and she made a needy, desperate sound and pitched her hips to grind against the stiffening ridge of his cock. “Or is it this?”

“Fuck -” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it came out strained and needy.

His head tilted, avoiding kissing her to drag his mouth down her throat, warm and wet, tongue and lips barely brushing her skin as he breathed, the late afternoon scruff on his chin scraping deliciously and making her hiss. He didn’t dare do what he wanted, suck and bite and leave marks from her jaw to her collar bone.

A hand found its way under her dress to run along the elastic of her panties, and she moaned as two long fingers pushed their way inside. She was obscenely aroused already, just from a little verbal sparring, and a part of her hated herself for it. Now that he knew he could work her up so easily he’d be incorrigible, and probably a complete bastard about everything.

“Here?” she managed to ask, as her head lolled to the side, baring more of her neck to his teasing.

He brought his mouth up to her ear, briefly nibbling the lobe before he whispered, “Would you prefer being on your knees?”

Her hands came up to his shoulders, nails digging in as she rubbed herself against his hand. “Fuck you.”

Sutherland pulled back a bit and licked his lips, sliding his fingers out of her. Her disappointed sigh spurred him on, and he raised them to his mouth to suck her flavor off them. With his free hand he pulled at his belt and zipper. The clinking sound drew her attention, distracting her long enough for him to reach behind her with both hands and lift her off her feet. Pinned between his body and the wall, she let out a squeak of surprise, her thighs tensing around his waist.

He smirked. “Is that an official request?”

Her heels dug into his lower back and she could feel her left shoe slip off, landing on the floor with a muted thud. He managed to work a hand between them, and after a few fumbled movements, tugged her knickers to the side and buried his cock inside her. She glanced towards the door and wondered how long they’d have until someone noticed they hadn’t come out. The fear was quickly dispelled by the sharp movement of his hips, setting a deep and deliberate rhythm that had them both at the edge quicker than she thought possible. Her fingers wrapped around a handful of his dress shirt as her back arched off the wall, pushing painfully, blissfully, into him as he moved.

She gasped and swore in his ear. He shushed her and pressed a kissed to the side of her neck that was entirely too soft and gentle for the way the rest of him was pounding into her. The edge of the paneling bit into her shoulders and she could already feel a few bruises forming as her cunt started to pulse and throb. He grunted sharply and jerked his hips, and she felt a hot, wet rush between her legs. His hips kept rocking into hers as he breathed through his orgasm, shifting and rubbing, and she turned her face, pressing the side of her fist against her mouth to muffle the ragged moan as she came.

They stayed like that for a long moment, with his breath warm and moist on her neck and her hand stroking his hair. He straightened slowly, waiting for her to stretch her legs to the floor and keeping his hold on her waist until he was sure she was steady. The skirt of her dress fell clumsily over her thighs, and she reached up and under, shifting her knickers back into place and trapping the sticky mix of their fluids.

She looked up and found familiar eyes, warm whiskey brown, and a look she couldn’t quite name. It felt like there was something shining in the corner, but then he sighed and turned away, and whatever she thought she might have seen was gone. When he turned back, suit smoothed back into place and trousers zipped up, he flashed her a tight smile. It’s not the one she hoped for, the one where the left side of his mouth curved just a little more than the right. She shouldn’t have needed that slightly crooked grin, those dark, laughing eyes, or the long, hard feel of him inside her so badly.

Belle exhaled and moved away, righting her fallen shoe with her toe and wiggling it back on. A few moments later and they were both straightened, almost like it never even happened, though the ache in her legs and the lingering flush to her skin said otherwise.

“You’re right,” she said, finally, turning away from him to collect her notepad and papers. When she turned around again, he was watching her with a strange expression. “They will blame you. You’re the PM, and it all falls on you, rightly or not. But wouldn’t you rather be blamed at least having done something?”

Sutherland pressed his lips together and then sighed. He could still taste Belle’s flavor on his tongue and smell her on his clothes. His back was going to be killing him later too, but she was right, the same as Anna. He was being stubborn because he thought he had a point to prove, because he always had to be the one in control.

Belle started towards the door, stopping halfway along the table where he was still standing. “But it’s not my place to say so.”

“Belle -”

The door was closing by the time he got her name out and he sat back against the edge of the table as his eyes came to rest on the wall. There was a scrape along the chair rail where they’d been, small, unlikely to be noticed and if it was without much regard. His jaw tensed and he looked away.

Back in his office, on the left corner of his desk, there were divorce papers to be signed.

[atlantisking]

knowing how people on tumblr are, doing this is actually terrifying, my anxiety is all over the place but my conscience is more important than what people might throw at me or whether they block me or not.

i have a friend, they don’t need to be named. i hear often about their terrible situation, having a step-father who suffers from narcissistic personality disorder, but rather it’s his immediate environment that suffers from it. people he latches onto, fools them until it’s too late. their mother is stuck in a terrible marriage with a monster who does nothing to battle this condition, rather tortures the two people around him. it’s not my story to tell, but it horrifies me, because to the outside world this man seems perfect, charming and lovable, exactly how he wants to be seen.

now imagine that’s a woman and she’s in the perfect profession as well, in a place where she’ll be admired by millions. she also latches onto people and tortures them and would not let them go, otherwise terrible consequences will occur. yet someone dares to make that move and behold, the wrath of the narcissist is upon them. she plays everything for the media, everything for the public to still love and adore her, but she shows no actual legal weight, nothing that would hold up in court. she won the public side so much so that she could truly destroy her partner in ways that matter a lot.

i have to say i was one of those people who were fooled as well. i felt guilty because i have liked the man in question, i looked up to him and therefore i felt i needed to counterbalance, but it only took a few tabloid articles to be convinced instead of truly looking into the case. now i have read all that’s out there and weighing that evidence i want to say that i was wrong. now this might turn around, and then i will come here and will say again that i was wrong, but you know what? it’s good to admit that.

we live in a culture of purity nowadays that is absolutely unhealthy. everyone needs to be perfectly pc and everyone always has to say the right things and the right words, you make one mistake and the public crucifies you as if they have no faults of their own, as if they have never stumbled in their life. people are afraid to admit to their faults because then the witch hunt begins and therefore they start to believe that everything they do is good and righteous. that’s not a healthy way to live.

at this moment in time i feel strongly that i was wrong reading through available evidence and i’m here willing to admit that. even though i have to state, this sort of matter between two people should not be our business, it’s personal. 

the story itself resonates with me, not just because i know a person who has to live with a narcissist, but let me tell you, reading through everything that happened, the narcissistic traits shine through clear as day. but i have also been emotionally abused for 6 years in my past relationship, i was isolated, i was broken, and when i finally got away, i took everything i could when i walked out, i left many things that were dear to me that i’ll never get back. but becoming free of that suffocating influence was worth it. this person does not act this way.

my husband whom i’ve been married to nearly 3 years now and have known for 7, he is the light of my life. he brought me back from my broken self like no one could’ve. he was also emotionally abused by his own mother but he turned it around and chose to give to the world, and he gave so much to me. without him i could not be the person i am today, and i’m still learning how to love myself. but i said he was also abused and something we both share is anger issues. most of the time we don’t argue, we’re great. but sometimes things snap and i know i can push the wrong buttons, no relationship is perfect and really you have to try and take a deep breath, but when anger just wants to explode in you it’s so hard to dial it back. now, i only shout, but he needs to lash out. he punches the wall or something to try and channel that anger. there is still a whole on the inside of our bedroom door, there is a scar on his fist when he punched a desk so hard it cut his skin deep open and he bled heavily. you might think that sounds horrible, but here’s the thing, i know, for a fact that he’ll never hurt me. that’s not who he is, he never had those urges. i have never in my life felt threatened by him and i will fight the whole world for him, because he just needs to channel that anger somehow and he is doing his best to work on it and he’s been doing great actually.

such a vulnerability has been used against this other man in question, a moment when he’s in a period in his life when he’s deeply hurt and he had a couple (only a couple, the word meaning 2) instances of publicly lashing out, but never towards loved ones. no person close to this man could say anything else but good things about him, people who have no real incentive to lie, people who are strong and would’ve come out a million times if anything bad would’ve happened to them but they never had to.

i’m in literal tears over this as pieces of this make me feel very personally about what has transpired. so this is what i’ll say at the end, everyone, every single person claiming they’ve been abused should be listened to. not believed. every person should be listened to, they need to be given a safe and caring space in which they feel they can share their story. and that story needs to be weighed and measured in the court of law. not by the public. you have no business there. the law is not perfect but it weighs the evidence and is impartial, and you might think that’s not important, but once you’re emotionally invested your judgement goes out the window and that’s not how justice should work. i am emotionally invested. i am a victim of abuse. but i still believe this is the right way.

i have said no names throughout this, but i’m sure you know what i’m talking about. if you feel you need to block me, then do so, but i keep an open mind and looking at strictly the evidence this is where my conclusion lies at the moment. i have felt it important to state once again that i feel i was wrong before and i urge you to just look at the facts. the court papers are out there.

[rey-png]

Bilgewater

Summary :  "I feel like this place is going to be the death of me." Rey mumbles absently, gazing out at the murky horizon without quite seeing it. If she could unfocus her eyes enough, maybe, just maybe she could see something other than grief and horror between those gnarled trees. Kylo seems to consider her words carefully, his expression strained as he comes to stand at her side."This place is going to be the death of all of us."

---------

Following the mysterious death of her best friend, fifteen-year-old Rey is forced to flee the small southern town of D’qar in search of a fresh start. Only the demise of her beloved caretaker Ben Kenobi coaxes the young woman back to her home nearly a decade later. Her arrival carries a tempest that unearths the hollow town’s past and present horrors, threatening to pull Rey under the bayou she had fought so desperately to escape from.

Pairing : Rey / Kylo

Additional Tags : Southern Gothic, Cults, Past Child Abuse, Murder Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe - Twins, the solo twins to be exact, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Rating : Explicit

Chapters : 1/?

"To realize that all your life - all your love, all your hate, all your memory, all your pain, it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room. A dream about bein' a person.... And like a lot of dreams, there's a monster at the end of it."

                                                  PROLOGUE

Brambles tug at too-thin arms, nipping at exposed flesh until her clothing is speckled with bright red stains. Her feet nearly send her sprawling as she trips over exposed tree roots, but still she presses onward. Physical discomfort is not nearly enough to slow her down as the baying of hounds rings through the tepid summer air.

Flashlight beams cut through the darkness around her, flickering like lightning bugs through the underbrush. They are accompanied by distorted voices, some of them calling her name, some of them wailing in despair. Even the pleading voice of her guardian isn’t enough to stop her in her tracks. Something far more sinister is following at her heels. She can feel it breathing down her neck.

  Ahead she hears another cry, high pitched and frightened, one that quickens her pace and silences those at her back. ‘Rey!’ Cutting through the trees, her bare feet meet water, sinking deep into mud, splashing noisily through the bayou. The scum that coated the top of the murky water so dense she could have sworn it was earth.

  ‘Rey! Please!’

  Rey tries to call out as she wades deeper into the mire, to assure them that she is on her way, but no words fall from her lips. She reaches up with trembling fingers to press against her mouth, wincing as they catch on the barbed wire that gagged her.

  A pained whimper erupts from her chest, harmonizing with the brutal cry that rips through the swamp. Her movements become frenzied, the world around her warping and twisting, bleeding into inky blackness. She scans the gloomy, star studded horizon, slipping on the mud and rocks beneath her in her haste to find the source of such a blood-curdling lament.

  The woman loses her footing, tumbling forward into the foul water with a strangled gasp. Hands shoot out to steady herself, only to catch something soft and cold beneath the ripples. Rey frowns, brow puckering as she clutches at the odd form. Narrowing her eyes through the dark, she tugs lightly, fighting to regain her balance.

  A mottled grey face blooms from the star-laced water, bloated and terrible even in the half light. It’s the face of a girl, a face eerily similar to her own. Bubbles erupt from her gaping mouth, that bloodcurdling lament spewed right along with them. Bruised lids pop open to reveal yellowed, unseeing eyes that peer up at her in fear and agony.

  Rey jerks backwards as dead hands clamp around her wrists, dragging her towards the terrible, dead face of Kira Kryze. The barbed wire around her mouth tightens as she shrieks in terror, the taste of copper thick on her tongue, gagging her as the shadows rise up around the girl and the corpse...

 “It sounds like this dream correlates with the phone call you received yesterday.”

 Rey’s unfocused eyes flick back to her therapist, blinking hard as she forces herself into the present. Even in the smog infused city, she can taste the foul water on the back of her tongue. Perhaps that was just the bile from the previous night though. She could still feel that suffocating darkness and the frozen grip of her best friend a she dragged them both down to the depths.

 “It’s more than likely, right? I mean, nothing else could have triggered it... I haven’t had dreams like that in years .” They were the reason she was there in the first place, after all. Those grisly nightmares she could never quite remember. They’d began vividly and in earnest shortly after she’d left D’qar, night terrors that left her nearly incapacitated with exhaustion during the day.

 Only a friendly intervention from her dear friend Finn several years back had propelled her into the office of a psychotherapist. ( Heavy eyes droop, her car swerves, Finn yells and grabs the steering wheel before they careen off the highway. He drives her to Norra Wexley’s every week after and pays for every session. )

 Doctor Wexley sits upright in her chair, cool eyes fixating on her patient as she jots down another note on her pad without looking at it. Rey could swear the woman was able to see right through her sometimes, which is likely the reason she rarely scheduled appointments anymore unless absolutely necessary.

 This was frighteningly necessary.

 Upon waking, Rey had turned on every light in her apartment and sat huddled on her ratty sofa, shivering before the TV. It took well over an hour and every single grounding technique she’d been taught to calm her down. The moment she did, her shaking fingers punched in a text, which was replied to only five minutes later, confirming an appointment for later that afternoon.

 Rey’s intuition had always been keen, growing up as she had. She knew things. It was her gift, of sorts.

 Old Ben Kenobi was saved in her speed dial, and the number that flashed across her screen was not.

 The moment she saw that fucking area code, she just knew .

 Just as she knew the news of his death had been the catalyst here.

 The young woman runs a hand over her weary face, wanting nothing more than to lace her fingers through her hair and tug so hard it all came out. Rey had done well for herself the last decade. She could think of home and withstand the occasional news her he would send without dissolving into a fit of despair. She wasn’t the scorned and frightened girl she once was. She could handle things damn it…

 Wexley seemed to understand where her rampant thoughts were beginning to stray and was quick to interject “You’ve come a long way, Rey. This isn’t a regression. These feelings, these experiences are normal. I would have been surprised if you DIDN’T react as you did. This is a harsh blow.”

 Rey nods silently, resting her chin on her hand as she stares off into space. She got that, but it sure as hell didn’t make her feel any better.

 Where Rey came from, one didn’t air their dirty laundry because one always had their shit together. Those that didn’t or COULDN’T comply to those unspoken rules were considered frail and weak. The idea was so saturated that even if those around you cared, they were so over burdened with their own repressed issues they didn’t have the capacity to take on yours as well. It was why they were all rotting, why she was still rotting.

 She’d read Doctor Wexley the same spiel time and time again until she sounded like a broken record. She can’t tolerate vulnerability in herself. It makes her skin crawl to be seen as anything less than a pillar of strength, even before a person who was paid for this nonsense. It’s why she keeps her mouth shut as her therapist barrels onward with her words of wisdom.

 “This is not a sign of weakness.” Wexley punctuates her words with a sharp tap of her pen against her notepad “You know this… I don’t think you know how proud I am of you though.”

 THAT catches Rey’s attention. She nearly gives herself whiplash meeting her eyes.

 She could count the people who were proud of her on one hand.

 Doctor Wexley smiles kindly at her and leans forward in her chair “You could have done things the easy way. You could have said you weren’t going to show up and you could have sold that house from here… But you bought that plane ticket. Rey, that’s a huge step. When you first came to see me, that girl would NEVER have considered what you did today.”

 Now it’s Rey’s turn to smile, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just wonder if I don’t have ulterior motives for doing this. I owe Ben that much but...”

 There are some tragedies you never stop punishing yourself for, regardless your level of involvement in them. There are some people that will never stop punishing you for them too. There was a vicious cycle of injury, self-inflicted and otherwise that stemmed from that old town. Six years of therapy couldn’t rectify her need to crucify herself. Maybe it was all some subconscious ploy to drag her back.

 “I think your heart is in the right place.”

 Rey isn’t sure her heart exists in this place at all anymore.

 She nods in agreement regardless and clambers wearily to her feet. Her hour was up and she had a lot of preparing to do, physically AND mentally.

 “Thank you, Doctor Wexley… I guess I’d better go pack for a funeral.”

Me @ myself: don't you dare start a new fic when you have an entire series you need to work on also me: laughs manically as i hit publish

Anyway here is the southern gothic fic nobody asked for. This has been rolling around in my brain forever and I've finally started piecing it together. It's heavily inspired by True Detective, which I've been binging recently. Needless to say, this is going to be INCREDIBLY dark. It's sort've my therapy fic and will explore the repercussions of trauma as I've seen it in myself, in those around me, and from what I've learned from research, therapists and other professionals. Please mind the tags. I'll be adding more as I write this & will add warnings in each chapter as I see fit, namely where sexual abuse is concerned.

A short snappy set up! I'm a quarter of the way done with the next chapter so it should be up soon! Comments and reblogs are fabulous! Please let me know what you think <3