#i shall acquire my children

[darkestspring]

Could you do a fic about what if rhanerya and criston had a daughter ( reader) from that one night and she looks just like rhanerya so ppl assume that she is rhaneryas and Leanor’s only true born kid and rhanerya is a yandere parent and doesn’t let criston near her baby and criston just has to deal with seeing leanor,Harwin , and daemon all being father figures to his little girl and when she married aegon he finally has the opportunity to have a relationship with his baby since she is finally away from her mother?

you were a lovely child.

That was Ser Criston Cole's first thought of you.

You were indeed a lovely child, his lovely child. he had no absolute proof that you were his but he knew that you were.

There was one problem, he was a knight sworn to have no children, but here you were, estranged from him as you were.

Estranged was a strong word, you were kept away from him by your mother, you didn't know of him.

"Ser, is mother really going to be okay?" Your soft voice carried over to where he was escorting Alicent. You looked up at Ser Harwin with soft eyes full of concern.

You were such a lovely child. So concerned over that... mother of yours.

"She'll be okay, Princess." Ser Harwin assured you, pressing his hand on top of your head as your smile finally returned and Criston felt jealousy.

as irrational as it sounded, it should have been him.

That's why he found joy in taunting Ser Harwin as you entered the area to watch your brothers. He ignored how Aegon practically preened under your attention on him, brief as it was.

See how violent he is, Crison spoke internally, see how unfit he is to be by your side, my beloved girl.

Then there was the issue of Laenor, that incompetent "father" of yours. He wasn't fit either. He wasn't fit to be your father nor was he fit to be loved by you.

But an opportunity presented itself and as much as the sight of Prince Aemond horrified him, it was a brilliant opportunity.

"My granddaughter will marry my son, Aegon. Let peace be had." Viserys' words had been final and Alicent kept her silence seeing the anguish on Rhaenyra's face as she held you close, tears in her eyes as it was you murmuring words of comfort to her rather than the other way around.

Serves her right for keeping you away from him.

Ser Criston's dark, disapproving gaze went right through Daemon as he patted your shoulder softly, the same affection in his eyes. The love of a father.

This wouldn't do. He was your father and now you'd be here, where he could protect you. Where they couldn't reach you.

Alicent had disapproved at first, lamenting over the fact that it hadn't been Aemond that you married but you brushed it off quickly, never fully disconnecting from Aegon's side.

Aegon lessened his alcohol intake. Never fully stopping but he stopped drinking as much, always laughing softly as your nose scrunched up at the smell.

You could have done worse so, it was good that you were here.

"Ser Criston." You voice sounded surprised as you saw him guarding your door. "I thought you'd be guarding the queen." You trailed off softly.

"I was given direct orders to protect you, princess." He responded as if he hadn't pleaded with alicent for the opportunity. "Should you not be asleep?"

His chiding reminded you of your father figures and you felt melancholic.

"I can never sleep properly at night. It gets so cold at night." You sighed softly.

"Shall i acquire more covers for you?" He jumped at the opportunity to help you.

He was awarded with your smile, your sweet, beaming smile as you nodded. "I would really appreciate it if you could."

what wouldn't he do for you? All you need to do is ask.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 27 - Fix-It

@wolfstarmicrofic July 27, word count 876

CW - Murder, killing with a knife, blood, dead bodies, graves

Part eight of werewolf Sirius

Previous part First part

He looked at the note over and over. It was definitely Regulus’s handwriting, he’d watched him use it enough times. The papers had said he’d drowned and every scrap of information he’d managed to gather said the same. Regulus Black had drowned. He’d thought it odd, as Regulus had always been a strong swimmer. He often out-swam Sirius himself. But now he knew the truth, but he couldn’t think why Voldemort would lock the son of his most loyal servants away and lie about his death, hopefully, he could ask Regulus himself once they got him out. 

Greyback returned on the day of the full moon. His followers grabbed Sirius and forced him to his knees. He glared up at the old wolf. They’d prepared for this. 

“Well, Lord Black, are you ready?” Greyback growled. “Your brother’s life hangs in the balance. If you answer incorrectly again, I’m afraid that young Master Black won’t see the moon rise.” Sirius shook with rage. 

“How do I know you’ll keep your word and let Regulus live?” Sirius’s voice was shaky. He added to it, pretending it was with nervousness. 

“When you agree, I shall send word to the Dark Lord and your brother’s carers that you are doing as commanded, and they will keep him alive until the sunrises tomorrow and I will send word that Dumbledore is dead. If I don’t your brother, your lover and yourself will not live another day.” Greyback’s eyes flicked over to Marcus. “You know what, we'll throw in your little buddy as well. He’s been useless to me since he arrived anyway.” Sirius swallowed and let his head hang low.

“I’ll do it,” He whispered. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite hear that,” Greyback smiled horridly, holding a hand to his ear. 

“I’ll take you to Albus Dumbledore in exchange for my brother’s life.” He repeated, defeatedly. Greyback took out a small scroll of parchment, held it up and clicked his fingers. It disappeared into a cloud of black smoke. A minute later, a different parchment returned in the same black smoke and Greyback unfurled it. 

“The Dark Lord is very happy with you, Lord Black.” He turned to address the rest of the camp. “We will be leaving in a few hours for the forbidden forest. Prepare yourselves, my children. Tonight is going to be written in the history books!” A knife slid across Greyback’s neck, he raised his hands to the wound as blood poured out. He fell to the ground with a sickening thump. Then, one after the other, his closest followers fell with him and a few others dotted through the gathered wolves. Remus stepped forward. 

“Well done. We leave for Lestrange castle before nightfall.” The gathered wolves all bowed to their new leader, Sirius included. Remus bent and pulled Sirius up from the ground. They stood together looking at the new pack they’d created. A wolf pack that after tonight would be peaceful and free from Greyback and Voldemort’s whims. 

“Who’s hungry? After all that, I’m starving,” Marcus rose from his bow, clapping his hands together. “Hey, when you’ve finished making googly eyes at your mate, pack master. Could you do something about this rubbish strewn across the camp before it starts to stink?” Marcus joked, holding his nose closed. Remus rolled his eyes at the mischievous wolf and raised his wand. He levitated them into the forest and dug graves for them all. No words were said and the few that had gathered quickly left. 

The pack of twenty wolves arrived at the castle gates. Those who could do magic had acquired wands, and together they began to pull apart the protection spells keeping them out. Sirius felt the last bit of magic breaking and the gate swung open. Sirius walked through as they’d discussed earlier to check it was safe. When nothing happened, the rest of the pack followed. 

They hid in the shadows away from the main door. He and Remus locked the gates again with their own brand of magic. It would be almost impossible for anyone to get in or out who wasn't already familiar with their spells. Sirius cast a reviling charm to show how many people were in the castle. Faint yellow dots appeared before him. He counted ten in all. Nine gathered together in the dining room and one below in the dungeons. Smaller blue dots shone together in the kitchen. House elves. He watched as another blue light appeared, and together they all disappeared. He ended the spell. Taking Remus's hand, they turned back to the gathered wolves.  

“Anyone who has changed their mind now that we are here and doesn’t wish to take part in this fight can go and none of us will hold it against them. We will meet you at the new camp tomorrow if we make it out,” Remus addressed his pack in a whisper. Their superior hearing meant they all heard the quiet words. None of the pack moved.  

Sirius could feel the change coming. Remus looked at him, and they shared a silent moment before the first whimper left one of the other wolves. They hastily cast a silencing charm around the pack and let the wolves within out to play.  

Next part

[whorekneecentral]

Shivers

Jordan Henderson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: based when he was still at liverpool because I've yet to come to terms with his departure, massive snow storms, reader is so over jordan but jordan is trying to love on his lady, some cheeky comments, playful teasing, showering together, specific warnings to behave are being ignored, shower sex, penetrative sex (p in v) fingering, finger sucking, oral (m!receiving), manhandling for a second there, lots of I love yous lmao

Word Count: 1,471

Author's Note: I'm still mad at jordan but he's my bookie so that's why I didn't take him out of the series loool

merry smutmas series

--

Jordan comes in after shovelling the driveway and keeps trying to love on you. You tell him that you can feel how cold he is but he makes sure to show you what cold really feels like. 

A massive snow storm has come down on Liverpool all of a sudden.

It's something in which the two of you had never seen in all your years of living there. Usually, you get a few feet of snow here and there throughout the entire season but for some reason, you've acquired 4 feet of snow overnight; global warming is what you told your husband when you got up this morning.

The children had ended up spending the night with Jordan's dad. The night before your father in law took them out to see a movie and have dinner with his grand-babies which turned into a sleepover.

Jordan was meant to go pick up the children but given that it snowed, all the roads were blocked and the two of you were stuck in the house alone, until God knows when.

Most men would take advantage of the alone time with their wife, but not your husband.

You looked over the couch when you heard him coming down the stairs, the man bundled up in his hoodie and thick sweatpants. Jordan sat next to you, putting his socks on. "Where are you going?" You asked your husband with a raised eyebrow.

All the roads were blocked and most of the places weren't open yet or had not opened at all because of the snow.

"I'm going to shovel the driveway." He tells you, walking his way over to the front door to put his coat and boots on.

You got up, following him. "Jordan, you're not serious." You huffed, watching as he put his hat on, looking as dorky as ever. You bit back a laugh, waiting for an answer.

"I am too," he tells you, "someone has to do it."

"Do we even have a shovel ?" You shivered when he opened the door, a gust of wind letting some snow into the foyer. "Yeah, we do. I'll be back in a bit."

Jordan leans towards you, puckering his lips. You roll your eyes, a hand on his jaw when you kiss him softly.

You let Jordan go out into the snow and attempt to shovel the driveway. You check on him in intervals, shouting from the front door to make sure that he's all right and eventually you call out to him, telling him to come in because it's freezing out.

"You'll get frostbite!" You shout from the door, shivering. "Come in, Jord!"

You walk back to the couch, sitting down when Jordan walks in and shut the door. You can hear him shivering and hanging his coat up, as well as taking off his boots before he finds his way over to you.

"Don't even think about it." You warn him, a finger pointed at your husband.

Jordan smiles, dropping himself down on top of you. You squeal, "Jordan! You're freezing! Get off!" You giggled, trying to shove your husband off of you.

"I'm not freezing!" He says back, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"But you are."

"Fine," the man huffs, sitting up on top of you. He smiles, "shall we take a shower then?"

"You can take a shower, I don't need to shower right now." You tell him, reaching for the remote on the coffee table but Jordan tosses it on the other couch.

"It's better with you, baby." He says, picking you up.

"Jordan!" You smack his back when the man puts you over his shoulder - something he's been doing for years, the same something you complained about every time he did it.

The man carries you to the bathroom, there's not much else you can do but go along with it. Jordan puts you down, letting you sit on the counter as he turns on the shower. The water hits the floor and runs down the drain as it goes from cold to hot as a matter of seconds. You can see the steam coming up over the shower curtains as your husband undresses in front of you.

"I'm not getting in there unless you promise to keep your hands to yourself." You tell him.

Jordan moves to stand between your legs, his boxers the only thing that's left to join the pile of his clothes on the floor. "I promise to be on my best behaviour," he whispers, his lips on your neck when he reaches for your top, pulling it off.

"You're already misbehaving," you say, the words coming out a bit breathless. He laughs, helping you off the counter, the two of you stripping off the rest of the way. "Says you."

"Me? I'm a good girl."

He smiles, smacking your ass as you pass by to get into the shower. "That you are."

The two of you stand there for a moment, letting the hot water run over your bodies, all the soreness slipping away. "That's too hot," he mumbled, reaching around from behind you to turn the knob and fix the water temperature.

Jordan turns it a little too much and the water goes from boiling hot to ice cold in a matter of seconds. "Jordan! What the fuck?!" You squealed, pushing him back so you could get away from the cold water.

He laughs, "sorry!" It takes him a second to switch it back, settling somewhere in the middle.

"God," you laughed, smacking his arm. "You're so annoying." You smile, now on your tiptoes to kiss him. Jordan’s hands rest on your ass, pulling you flat against his chest when he kisses you. 

The warm water runs over his shoulders, spilling down onto you before he turns you, the two of you standing directly under the water. He takes another step, leading you to rest your back on the cold tile wall. 

Jordan's hand shifts to rest on your hip, giving it a squeeze before moving down to pull your leg up a bit to rest on the edge of the tub. Your head rests on the wall when he slips two fingers into you. 

Your hand gripping on his shoulder, "oh.. you promised you'd behave." you whisper, head back against the wall. Jordan smiles, fingers curling. "I'm behaving, aren't I?"

“Jord, fuck- oh, that, do that again.” You ramble out in one breath, chest heaving, his fingers curling upwards again. 

He loved when you praised him, telling him how good he makes you feel. Jake brings you just to the edge of your orgasm before he stops, moving his fingers to your mouth. 

Before you could complain, Jordan had pulled his fingers from you and pushed them past your lips. “Suck,” He tells you, feeling your tongue lap his fingers. Meanwhile, his other hand is wrapped around his cock, rubbing it along your slit, slapping on your clit a few times. 

“Baby,” you whimper, eyes pleading with him, “god, fuck me.” You beg, your hand wrapped around his wrist. 

“Hold on sweetheart, patience.” Jordan tells you, hooking your leg on his hip instead of resting it on the ledge. "What happened to behaving?" He teased, causing you to groan.

Before you could answer, Jordan pushes into you and his name falls from your lips like a prayer. His lips met yours, a hand resting on your hip to keep you up as he fucked you, your body welcoming him like he belonged there. 

There was something about being in the shower together, homely and sweet and domestic. 

His other hand rests on your cheek, pulling your focus to him. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Hm I love you,” your hand resting on his jaw. 

He can feel you squeezing his cock, your eyes fluttering closed. Jordan smacks your jaw lightly, “look at me,” he tells you. “If you want to cum, open your eyes.”

You give in, your eyes opening a little and his thrusts are sloppy, you know he’s just as close as you are. A few more thrusts and you’re over the edge, calling his name as you do. 

“Where?” He asks, his head on your shoulder and you know it’s not gonna last. You push him off of you, sinking onto your knees. Jordan gets what you were doing, putting his cock in your mouth when you open it. 

He groans, watching as your tongue laps over his cock, looking up at him through your eyelashes innocently.

He pulls your hair up and away from your face, “you’re so perfect, I love you.” He mumbles, another string of praise falling from his lips as he cums. 

Your husband helps you up, giving you a kiss before you two actually finish your shower like normal people, your husband hugging you from behind as you did your skin care routine.

"What?" You looked at him in the mirror, "I didn't even finish shovelling the driveway," he whispers, making you laugh.

--

taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

[not-so-superheroine]

Happy Restoration Day! Here is my Book of Mormon Testimony

Blessings everyone, I am @not-so-superheroine, and this is my testimony of the Book of Mormon.

I am a convert to the restoration. So the Book of Mormon was new to me. I had heard about it. I had held one before that I saw in the drawer of a Marriot hotel room, I didn’t open it until I took an interest in the Restoration. 

At that time, I was sort of agnostic. I grew up in a mainline protestant denomination but had grown disillusioned. I was introduced to Mormonism through people who were deconstructing from the belief. Naturally, the first things I saw about it were debunking it’s location and historicity. But my mind was being opened to possibilities I hadn’t considered before. When I was younger, it didn’t make sense to me that there would be no more scripture from God. That the author of Revelations could say “that’s it.” for scripture, as I heard some argue. I wondered why God interacted so directly with those in ancient times and why such things wouldn’t occur with us now.  

Eventually, I was curious enough to acquire a Book of Mormon. I was admittedly cautious. I knew what the book said about a “skin of Blackness” and how that had lead to mistreatment of Black and Indigenous persons in different parts of the Latter Day Saint Movement. I was also fairly certain it was a 19th century text. I knew neither of these things discounted the Book as scripture. 

So I went into the scripture without the burden of historicity or author authenticity.  Not to see if the book was “true”, but to seek after the truths within. I approached the text and I looked for the presence of God. I prayed and asked God to guide me in my reading of the scriptures. Millions before me found these precious truths and Divine Inspiration in this book and I thought perhaps, if i went in openly, I could find it myself. 

And did I. And I am glad that I did. 

The Book of Mormon provides further light on issues the Christian community was facing at the time. It seeks to heal and to unify. A theme throughout the scripture and the bringing forth of the Book of Mormon speaks of Continuing Revelation. The heavens were open then and are open now. From what I learned, there is no reason why God wouldn’t provide us further light or would limit who God delivers Divine knowledge too. In fact, I learned that God does just that. It’s just up to us to ask, listen, and discern. 

The Book has also strengthened my relationship with my Creator. When I was a child, I thought deeply about, and questioned, the theology and doctrine I was taught in Sunday School. Sometimes this questioning was not always welcomed. I learned that for some, Ignorance is preferable to doubt. That doesn’t work for me. The Book of Mormon encourages me to be a diligent seeker. My time spent studying the Book of Mormon has been filled with questions. Questions without shame that I encourage to seek after God’s truth. 

Much like Nephi, I Was desirous also that I might see, and hear, and know of these things, by the power of the Holy Ghost, which is the gift of God to all those who diligently seek him, as well in times of old as in the time that he should manifest himself to the children of men; for he is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

(more from 1 Nephi 3) 29 For he that diligently seeks shall find; 30and the mysteries of God shall be unfolded to him by the power of the Holy Ghost, as well in this time as in times of old; 31and as well in times of old as in times to come.

This scripture inspires me and shows me that God wants me to seek after God’s mysteries and the mysteries in the universe God created for us. That thought is absolutely liberating. We should not fear knowledge, God wants us to grow and understand. And my faith is stronger now with this understanding. Questioning and Seeking is needed for spiritual growth.

I find the Book of Mormon to be empowering in reminding me of my moral agency, encouraging me to grow my faith, and work with God to hone my Spiritual gifts to be used in service to the Divine and to my community. The Book of Mormon affirms the Living Christ, Christ’s love for all humankind, no matter where and who they are, and that people of all nations receive light from the Divine and are a part of God’s sacred story. And there is so much more. The Book of Mormon speaks to me about the effects of poverty and addressing wealth inequity. This matches with Christ’s mission to tend to the poor. The Book of Mormon goes into how we should live amongst each other and on building sacred community, on how to be Zion as a people. There are so many lessons packed in there that I believe God wants us to ponder on and to take action with. The Book of Mormon is responsible for changing the way I read and apply sacred scripture to my life. This has changed my life for the better and changed my life outlook. I see myself as an active part of God’s plan carrying out Christ’s mission. 

I thank God for the Restoration

I thank God for continuing revelation and the Book of Mormon

And I thank God for my community, the people of Zion

[vickyvicarious]

So... Masters and Men, eh? There are several different perspectives at play in this chapter:

Mrs. Thornton

"[Workers strike] For the mastership and ownership of other people’s property [...] they are a pack of ungrateful hounds [...] they want to be masters, and make the masters into slaves on their own ground. They are always trying at it; they always have it in their minds".

Mrs. Thornton speaks very harshly of the workers, and she seems to explicitly view the situation as opposing sides, with the 'lesser' one being the aggressor. Part of the pride she takes in her lifestyle is linked to being brave enough to face them and 'fight' against them. In fact, the quote about that is really interesting to me, because she claims they're "a people who are always owing their betters a grudge, and only waiting for an opportunity to pay it off," but in some ways, she could be seen that way as well. At least in the sense of family history/social status, the Hales are supposedly the Thornton's superiors, right? And Mrs. Thornton is very prickly about being seen as inferior herself. A lot of it seems to be genuine pride and dislike of their (Southern) priorities, but some is definitely defensive. And I could see some nasty high society person using similar wording about Mrs. Thornton herself having a grudge against her betters. Certainly, as someone who herself had to struggle tremendously to climb to the point she's at now, I find it easier to see her believing others will want to do the same (though she attributes more malevolence to their actions).

Mr. Hale

"I should say that the masses were already passing rapidly into the troublesome stage which intervenes between childhood and manhood, in the life of the multitude as well as that of the individual. Now, the error which many parents commit in the treatment of the individual at this time is, insisting on the same unreasoning obedience as when all he had to do in the way of duty was, to obey the simple laws of ‘Come when you’re called,’ and ‘Do as you’re bid!’ But a wise parent humours the desire for independent action, so as to become the friend and adviser when his absolute rule shall cease."

Mr. Hale doesn't attempt to dispute the idea that the workers are inferiors, and he's clearly not willing to go too far because he wants to keep the peace. But he tries to suggest that Mr. Thornton look upon them as growing and learning, and be indulged of their 'mistakes' or 'outbursts', so to speak. When talk again turns to the two sides as being opposed to one another, Mr. Hale says, "is not that because there has been none of the equality of friendship between the adviser and advised classes?" He's certainly in favor of mending relations, and he doesn't believe that opposition is inherent/necessary, but his approach is sort of benevolently condescending. This too fits well with his background and the kind of thing Margaret was used to before they move here.

Nicholas Higgins

...it were the interest of the employers to keep them from acquiring money—that it would make them too independent if they had a sum in the savings’ bank. [...] I heard, moreover, that it was considered to the advantage of the masters to have ignorant workmen... [...] But he—that is my informant—spoke as if the masters would like their hands to be merely tall, large children—living in the present moment—with a blind unreasoning kind of obedience.

Higgins (who isn't here and whose words are being relayed second-hand) is the one who first brought up the workers-to-children comparison, but he did so in a distinctly scathing way. He's very bitter about the 'masters' and is definitely displeased at being looked down on. But it's not just resentment. He recognizes the balance of power that is at least in many cases being deliberately maintained. The workers aren't allowed to be too independent because then they can't as easily be used however the masters want. His views are sort of a reverse of Mrs. Thornton's... the employers are the aggressors constantly shoving the workers back down. Wanting them to be ignorant, never to think for themselves, to be dependent and unquestioning. As someone who has very few options even when it comes to helping his daughter dying due to a factory-related illness, his bitterness is fully understandable.

John Thornton

"But because we don’t explain our reasons, they won’t believe we’re acting reasonably. We must give them line and letter for the way we choose to spend or save our money." [...] "I agree with Miss Hale so far as to consider our people in the condition of children, while I deny that we, the masters, have anything to do with the making or keeping them so. I maintain that despotism is the best kind of government for them; so that in the hours in which I come in contact with them I must necessarily be an autocrat." [...] "And I say, that the masters would be trenching on the independence of their hands, in a way that I, for one, should not feel justified in doing, if we interfered too much with the life they lead out of the mills. Because they labour ten hours a-day for us, I do not see that we have any right to impose leading-strings upon them for the rest of their time. I value my own independence so highly that I can fancy no degradation greater than that of having another man perpetually directing and advising and lecturing me, or even planning too closely in any way about my actions."

Mr. Thornton has quite an interesting mix of views here. He claims that it is necessary for him to be a despot; but he feels he has no right to interfere with their personal lives. He talks scornfully of their strikes and says if they knew why he's taken his stance, then they would act differently, but he refuses to tell them why. He agrees that they're like children, but then says he respects their independence and is treating them like he'd want to be treated. Thornton does seem to have a better understanding of the independent nature of the people here, but he uses that reasoning to justify remaining completely uninvolved in bettering the situation. He asks if he has any right to impose his own views on them just because he's their boss - and that's a fair point, but also, he's kind of doing that regardless? It's his belief that an honest and straightforward, if demanding 'master' is both more respectable and incurs loyalty/becomes an example to follow. It's his belief that the workers should blindly obey him because he's in charge, and that this is better for them. And as someone with so much power over their livelihoods, he can operate based on these views. If they feel otherwise, they don't have the power to change that. When they try with strikes, he's willing to get into a power struggle that he admits will hurt him as well as them, rather than let them 'win' even just enough to make him admit his reasons why. Even though he claims their interests align with his, he seems to feel that they don't or can't understand this, and thus conflict is inevitable. In fact, I think he was the first one to call it a "battle of the classes." Thornton's backstory is very much a "pulled myself up by my own bootstraps" success story, and because he did it by working really hard and practicing lots of self-discipline, he seems to think anyone else who fails to succeed is at fault for not working hard enough. He didn't question his bosses, he just put the work in! And so on. Of course, pretty sure he was always of a higher class, and that's going to be a factor for all of these people regardless, but still, I can easily see him thinking that it's their fault for not knowing how to save their money carefully enough. And thus dismissing their complaints.

Margaret Hale

All I meant to say is, that there is no human law to prevent the employers from utterly wasting or throwing away all their money, if they choose; but that there are passages in the Bible which would rather imply—to me at least—that they neglected their duties as stewards if they did so. [...] ...I see two classes dependent on each other in every possible way, yet each evidently regarding the interests of the other as opposed to their own: I never lived in a place before where there were two sets of people always running each other down. [...] ...you are a man, dealing with a set of men over whom you have, whether you reject the use of it or not, immense power, just because your lives and your welfare are so constantly and intimately interwoven. God has made us so that we must be mutually dependent. We may ignore our own dependence, or refuse to acknowledge that others depend upon us in more respects than the payment of weekly wages; but the thing must be, nevertheless.

Margaret relays Higgins' words, and speaks on his behalf. She seems to have a position closest to her father, in the sense that she feels it is Mr. Thornton's duty to aid the people under his rulership. She seems guided ultimately by religious ideals of the relationship between people, but also recognizes that the situation involves an inherent power imbalance and thus responsibility on the part of the one who is at the top. As much as Thornton might deny it, he does have incredible power over the people. But he is also dependent upon them. Her talk about dependence is really interesting because she's the first person to portray it as extending in both directions. They are dependent upon him to employ them; but he is equally dependent upon them to work for him. In this way, she goes a step further than Mr. Hale seemed to, and recognizes both sides as at least closer to equals. She clearly isn't suggesting that every worker should be seen as having the same rights and roles as Thornton, but neither does she view them as either entirely isolated in their independence, or entirely subservient in their dependence. It's a complicated web in which everyone plays a valuable part. Fighting against one another is by necessity acting against your own interests, in a way. Once again, I think her having these beliefs fits very well with her background as someone who did operate in a more noblesse oblige way and clearly felt she was better than certain other classes, but also experienced being the social lesser/supported one when taken in by her Aunt.

[ask-neloth]

Master Neloth, My spider importer informed me he’d passed through your new tower settlement on his latest expedition to Solstheim. Really, I'm surprised you are still alive. You haven’t made any recent contributions to Tamriel’s scholarship or exerted your once-strong will in Morrowind politics. I therefore presumed one of our national tragedies had carried you off. 

I congratulate you on acquiring the elevated title of Arch-Magister of Solstheim. While I was but a mere apprentice to the Keeper of the Tel Naga Archives, I knew then that you aspired to the lofty position of Arch-Magister. Best wishes for future success in your research and the acquisition of your own Council to go with the title,

Tivela Andrethi, Mistress of Tel Galen

Oh, you're one of the Andrethi children. I believe I remember you. I remember your father, at the very least. So, you were one of my archivist's underlings, were you? Given your clear attention to even the most trivial of details, I'm sure you were good enough at your job.

'Morrowind politics', or what's left of them, have nothing to offer me. Our once proud and prosperous House is more concerned with petty territory squabbles with House Redoran and rampant Argonians than advancing our status or growing our influence. Tel Mithryn, while still modest in size, is shaping into a fine citadel. There is far more to the title of Arch-Magister than simply presiding over a council, though I shall make sure to inform you should any positions become available.

You say you have not seen my contributions to Tamriel's scholarship? Perhaps that is simply because they have become so ubiquitous you did not realize that I was the innovator. Tell me, do you have a staff enchanter at Tel Galen? If not, I'm sure you could easily find one at the College of Winterhold or within the walls of the College of Whispers. I've heard that the Imperial army has even adopted them for their speed and efficiency. Though I understand if it escaped your notice that these were of my design.

...

I'm sorry, did you say your spider informed you?

[artemis-fowl-incident-report]

Diary of the Ho Chi Minh city Sprite

Day 1 of exile:

How? How could they do this to me? Was I not loyal? Was I not accommodating? Was I not accomplished? I gave my life to my research, for the People. I found new ways to acquire magic without getting so close to the humans. Ways to make ourselves stronger, to be ready to face the mud folk if the need arose.

Were some of the ways I found out this information extreme? Yes. But cruel? Never. How can it be cruel when those I experimented on volunteered? They knew the risks, knew the pain they would experience, but they knew it was for the People. And I ensured none of them, not a single drop of blood, went to waste.

And for that they called me a heretic. Me! Heaven knows most of the council spit in the face of the old Gods every day with their womanising and disregard of nature, but you don't see anyone accusing them of heresy.

I've made my way to a city not too far from the sea here in Vietnam. Its better to hide myself for the time being, in case any rogue bounty hunters come along looking for a quick score.

Year 1 of exile:

The locals seem friendly, so long as I heal their warts and spin some drivel about prophecies and such. Humans can be really ridiculous sometimes. The children, though, they're more swayed by money and a good story. I can respect that. And they're more than willing to trade. I wonder how many fathers are left scratching their heads about where their rice wine has gone, or mothers left perplexed about how quickly they used up all their mandrake root. Its not much, but it should do for the moment.

Truly the worst thing so far is the boredom. In Haven City, there was light and music and colour. Here they've barely figured out how electricity works. And that boredom just heightens the anxiety of if the authorities will find me soon.

Year 100 of exile:

An elf came today. An officer. I saw his badge inside his coat. Turnball Root. He came asking about magic. Seems he's been participating in some illegal activities himself, and needs a spark of two to keep him going. You best believe I made him pay handsomely. Truly I don't care what he does with that information. The fairy people are beyond my respect or my concern... Even so... there was evil in that man. Palpable evil.

Year 1000 of exile:

Nguyen came this morning. I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times. No about of magic is bringing his hair back. He was polite about it, as always, but something about it felt... off. He refused to come into my little tent, standing outside like a scared child. When I reached out to take the payment for his mothers medication, I heard a mechanical clicking sound. Did he take a photograph of me?

I hear his voice coming down the alley. I shall see what he and his apparent new friends have to say.

I woke up today and I do not remember yesterday. I do not remember the last week.

What has happened to me?

What have I done?

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Why do you think the epilogue of "Jane Eyre" gives so little attention to Jane's becoming a mother? Just once sentence that doesn't even touch on Jane's feelings about it, only that Rochester regained enough of his sight to be able to see his firstborn son. Why should such an enormous, life-changing aspect of her married years be so deemphasized?

Hi!

If you ask me, I think the very simple answer is that Charlotte Brontë didn't like children. Even Adele herself in the novel is very little more than a plot device to have Jane at Thornfield (this is one of the reasons why the 1996 heavy focus on childhood and the consequences of unhappy childhoods, ending with Jane and Rochester adopting Adele and raising her as their own is both a strong departure from the text but also an interesting commentary on it).

I feel like Elizabeth Gaskell explains it in a way that makes sense in her The Life of Charlotte Brontë:

"...teaching seemed to her at this time, as it does to most women at all times, the only way of earning an independent livelihood. But neither she nor her sisters were naturally fond of children. The hieroglyphics of childhood were an unknown language to them, for they had never been much with those younger than themselves. I am inclined to think, too, that they had not the happy knack of imparting information, which seems to be a separate gift from the faculty of acquiring it; a kind of sympathetic tact, which instinctively perceives the difficulties that impede comprehension in a child’s mind, and that yet are too vague and unformed for it, with its half-developed powers of expression, to explain by words. Consequently, teaching very young children was anything but a “delightful task” to the three Brontë sisters. With older girls, verging on womanhood, they might have done better, especially if these had any desire for improvement. But the education which the village clergyman’s daughters had received, did not as yet qualify them to undertake the charge of advanced pupils."

"No doubt, all who enter upon the career of a governess have to relinquish much; no doubt, it must ever be a life of sacrifice; but to Charlotte Brontë it was a perpetual attempt to force all her faculties into a direction for which the whole of her previous life had unfitted them. Moreover, the little Brontës had been brought up motherless; and from knowing nothing of the gaiety and the sportiveness of childhood—from never having experienced caresses or fond attentions themselves—they were ignorant of the very nature of infancy, or how to call out its engaging qualities. Children were to them the troublesome necessities of humanity; they had never been drawn into contact with them in any other way. Years afterwards, when Miss Brontë came to stay with us, she watched our little girls perpetually; and I could not persuade her that they were only average specimens of well brought up children. She was surprised and touched by any sign of thoughtfulness for others, of kindness to animals, or of unselfishness on their part: and constantly maintained that she was in the right, and I in the wrong, when we differed on the point of their unusual excellence."

From a letter from Charlotte to Gaskell:

"Whenever I see Florence and Julia [two of Gaskell's daughters] again, I shall feel like a fond but bashful suitor, who views at a distance the fair personage to whom, in his clownish awe, he dare not risk a near approach. Such is the clearest idea I can give you of my feeling towards children I like, but to whom I am a stranger;—and to what children am I not a stranger? They seem to me little wonders; their talk, their ways are all matter of half-admiring, half-puzzled speculation."

I wonder how her feelings would or wouldn't have changed, had she survived her pregnancy and gotten a child of her own with the husband she loved.

[scorchieart]

Understaffed

Genre: Comedy

Wordcount: 1326

Prompt: In A Flash CCC hosted by @flash-exchange - October 2023: Magic Apprenticeship

A/N: My first entry for the In A Flash CCC! This one was inspired by the folks over on Discord, you guys rock for helping me finish a fic after so long! I will try my best to write some more as the challenge continues. For this fic, it's been split up as 2 separate parts, the first part being mainly from Jin's perspective and the second continuing from Yves and Nokto's. Many thanks to @lorei-writes for the feedback and suggestions. Enjoy!

Jin Grandet was not a warlock. At least, not officially.

It wasn’t because he had a late start. Most children couldn’t even read spells from the rudimentary tomes at age six, let alone pronounce them. And it wasn’t as if he was without talent. It was common knowledge throughout the kingdoms that the sorcerer’s gene manifested strongest within royal bloodlines. No, the true reason Jin failed his Warlock Mastery Examination was far less magical than he’d like to admit. 

But that’s a story for another time. And even if the minimum age to apply was fifteen, it didn’t mean he was barred from trying again another year. Heck, most applicants didn’t even make an attempt until they were double that! But of course, Chevalier came of age the next year, and while the exam was merely a formality for the prodigy, barely anyone bothered to register for that round. Fueled by fiery rivalry, Clavis was hot on Chevalier’s heels the year after that, and Jin was too preoccupied with helping him train to even consider enrolling himself. And just a few weeks prior, Leon passed his exam with flying colors. A feat Jin attributes to his apt sideline encouragement and diligent inspections of Leon’s daily meat intake. 

So what if he didn’t pass? Jin could still perform magic as well as any warlock. He just didn’t have a staff to show for it. Instead, he could boast that the never-before-seen-three-year-streak of fifteen-year old graduates were his students.

“For the last time, we are not your students,” Yves declared.

“And why wouldn’t you want to be?” Jin asked. He waved a hand and the curtain of low-hanging branches before him parted, revealing a narrow dirt path ahead. “I have a one-hundred percent success rate. And you’re my next conquest, Yves.”

“Yeah, Evie. Why don’t you take him up on his offer?” Nokto said, following Licht as they climbed down after Jin. “Then you can tell us if he’s legit or not.”

“Oh, he’s the real deal,” Leon said. He took a steady stance beside a cherry oak and swung his newly acquired staff overhead, making all the barren trees in the vicinity shake and shoot their branches upward like spikes. Nokto watched in awe as Leon calmed the trees down and flashed him a toothy grin. “Can’t recommend the big guy enough.”

“No, no, no, my brothers. You mustn’t let the opinions of others sway your decision making!” Clavis said, pushing past Leon. “Ask yourselves this: do I want to be taught by a syrupy dropout, or by the youngest, most renowned warlock of our age?” He struck the ground with his own staff and the dirt rumbled. Moments later, roots and tubers erupted from the earth like the undead, making Yves screech and trip on an upright rose stem. Clavis laughed maniacally as the plants continued to grow, until Leon whacked him on the head and the vegetary scene immediately reverted underground as if it never happened. 

“I’m younger than you, remember?” Leon countered.

“And I was younger than you both when I passed,” Chevalier added, his pace leisurely as he joined them.

“Yes, yes, you don’t have to remind us again how your test happened three days after your birthday,” Clavis said, rubbing his bruised forehead. “It is insufferably pedantic of you.

“Shall I remind everyone instead of how you only passed because the examiner happened to sneeze when you flubbed the fire retardancy enchantment on your trousers?”

“Like I said, little ones. Follow what Jin says, and you’ll do just fine,” Clavis said.

“If you’re done sharing my many virtues, hurry on over!” Jin called. The group exchanged speculative glances before filing through the unanimated greenery towards his excited voice.

Flummoxed by their seniors’ effortless display of magical prowess, Yves and Nokto insisted they take the lead, bewitching wayward wood knots and saplings from the path. Once or twice they glanced back, hopeful to receive praise for their successful spells, only to find the trio engrossed in their own conversation. 

“Maybe he wants to take us all on at once? Six against one?” Leon suggested.

“Please,” Clavis yawned, stretching his arms above his head and waving his staff teasingly. “He could squash the kiddos, no problem. But he won’t get much farther than that unarmed.”

“He brought his sword. Or is your staff so far up your rear that you did not notice?” Chevalier said, swatting Clavis’s staff away from his face. 

Yves and Nokto whirled their heads towards the track ahead, struggling to keep their attention back on moving the plants. Is that what this was all about? Despite Jin’s domineering stature, they had never once seen their brother in a fight. But Jin also was the most knowledgeable about the contents of the exam, even if he did fail his. Was this the type of error-correcting that guaranteed Chevalier, Clavis, and Leon’s successes?

The path eventually fed into a wide clearing as large as one of the training arenas at the palace. Even in peak autumn, thick shrubs still flanked all sides like a fence except for one; a cavernous cliff plummeted behind where Jin stood, his arms folded and mouth stretched in an expectant grin.

“Are we really gonna fight?” Nokto said nervously, reaching for his sword.

“Alright! Loser gets thrown off the cliff!” Clavis whooped. “Chevalier, fight me!”

“Slow down, we’re learning defensive tactics today,” Jin said. “Magic has limitless potential to attack, right? So it stands to reason that the same should be true in defense. Far too often does a warlock fall into the assumption that one trumps the other in combat.”

“Spoken nearly verbatim from Elemental Charms and Combat,” Chevalier said unamused.

“That means he knows his stuff,” said Leon. “But then why’d ya bring us here too, Jin?”

“No, Chevalier’s right. There’s only so much you can learn from theory alone. We need experience to connect the dots. And I sure as sugar wouldn’t hurt a hair on the little guys’ heads, so that’s where you lot come in.” Jin crouched beside Yves and Nokto and patted their shoulders. “Yves, you’ll spar with Chevalier. And Nokto, you get Clavis.”

Yves froze on the spot.  

“Oh, goodie…” Nokto mumbled. 

“Just remember the basics, and you’ll be fine,” Jin said, then he turned to the warlocks. “And don’t you go blasting infernos at them. We’re out here to prevent unnecessary bystander injuries. But remember, this is still a highly flammable area.” He glared at Clavis, who seemed to get a chill and wrapped his cloak firmly around himself.

“Wait. Where’s my partner?” Leon asked. A quick lookover of the clearing proved Licht was nowhere to be seen. 

“Maybe Leon’s branches pulled him up to the sky?” Nokto suggested.

“Or Clavis’s roots dragged him down below!” Yves gasped.

“Both,” Chevalier said, pointing over the cliff. Halfway down, Licht hung suspended and looking below, his shirt caught on a thorny branch tangled with crisscrossing roots. 

“Licht!” Yves and Nokto cried.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Clavis called down to him.

“Something tells me the branch will snap if he so much as breathes wrong,” Leon said. Licht answered with a shaky thumbs up.

“Everyone, change of plans!” Jin bellowed. “Today we’re doing rescue training. And not a word of this gets to Sariel, got it? Okay, let’s go!” He drew his sword and leaped over the edge, jamming it into the cliffside as he descended.

Shocked, and slightly relieved, Yves and Nokto followed Jin’s lead, the scraping sounds of their blades cutting rock disappearing with them.

“Moron,” Chevalier huffed. The air around him began to crackle as he inhaled deeply and swung his staff in a circular motion. “He didn’t even evaluate the situation for a full minute. And they still wonder why he didn’t pass—”

“You heard the boss!” Clavis and Leon yelled. Together they seized each of Chevalier’s arms and hurled themselves over the cliff, leaving their staves behind.

Listen, it is liberating to write Chevalier, Clavis, and Leon as comic relief side characters. Trust me.

Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar @my-day6

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Snow falls: Chapter 29: The Snow Fox

Aemond x femoc reader

Tags: Show setting, series, main series, willa snowfallsaemond

Cool devider credits: firefly graphics

🔷Summary: You are Willa Wyldewoods, the daughter of a powerful lord in the North and Aemonds spoils of war/prisoner.

🔷Author's note: I wonder how archive will react, xD. I love this aemond because hes so messed up in the head haha.

🔷Wordcount :2090

🔷Warnings: Lying, dark!Aemond, childloss (mentioned only) trauma, angst, fear, and Larys. edit: mention of non-con but none of it is descriped

You don't know what you are planning for that day. You only know you want to do something. Alicent once told you that the greatest honor was carrying Valyrian offspring. Especially royal Valyrian offspring.

You hope one day that you and Aemond are to be blessed with a healthy child, befitting your husband's needs for an heir, and perhaps to complete this picture that recently keeps popping up in your head. 

One day.

Because you know the cold hard truth: As long as the Blacks are alive, as long as the Targaryens that murder and kill children are alive, neither your child nor Aemond nor you will be safe.

And that means it's either time for peace or time for people to die. You can’t be the naïve doe-eyed girl from the North anymore. You have a position at court where there are plenty of resources to contact someone and to make sure your word gets out to Queen Rhaenyra.

Your husband had gotten up to train earlier, at the almost earliest sign of dusk. To prepare for the war. You know one day he might be off to fight King Aegon’s wars, but you hope that you will find a way to foil and stop the war before the fighting begins. You rely on it.

The first step is acquiring paper ink and a quill. After that, you will see what your brain has come up with next.

Aemond has left the chamber unlocked, and after you have dressed you leave his chambers, walking through the maze that is the Red Keep. There are dozens of different rooms and you would not know a single room of them to hold ink or a quill, so you walk from room to room and hope for the best.

A man leaning heavily on a cane approaches you as you try to enter another room. ‘’Can I help you, Lady WyldeWoods?’’ His smile speaks to you in a certain way. An all-knowing smile, a smile that betrays he knows what you are up to. He knows who you are too.

Can he help you? Most likely. But should he help you? That’s another complicated question. ‘’Uh, yes? Perhaps?’’ You feel like a little girl again, surrounded by strange powerful men in foreign lands. Without Aemond, you know nothing and hold no true power. It is time to change that.

‘’It is alright.’’ He assures you, leaning heavily on his crane. ‘’You can tell me, my Lady. I’ve been here for an eternity, or so it feels. If there is anyone you are searching for, I shall help you find them.’’ He sounds lonely. ‘’O, I’m named Larys Strong.’’

You look at your gloved hands.  ‘’I’m looking for ink and paper. Aemond, my husband, has run out.’’ You tell him with a polite smile. ‘’I wish to write about my family in the North. They must miss me.’’ You do plan to write to someone in the North. But that someone is not family.

The man laughs, amused, before looking into your eyes, searching for any lies. ‘’Has he? Or do you want to send a message that he can’t know of?’’ You know your husband has ink and paper and quills but you worried about him knowing somehow that you wrote a message. 

‘’I shall bring you to the Maester, he always has parchment and quills and ink. Does your family live far away, my Lady?’’

A whole world away. They are not in this world anymore, Aemond made sure of that. Aegon ordered them dead, and he swung his sword in obedience. The only one who escaped was your mother, due to ancient dark sorcery called ‘blood magic.’ 

You silently hope that Larys is uninformed and does not know you don’t have any family left to write to begin with. ‘’They live in the North.’’ The best foundation for a lie is always a truth. Even if that truth has ended or changed.

‘’You must forgive me, my lady…’’ He frowns, suddenly before smiling as if this pains him to remind you. He steps a step closer, leaning heavily on his crane when pointing at the snow fox sigil on your necklace.  ‘’But I heard rumors that Prince Aemond slaughtered them all, before forcing you into the wedding bed.’’ That is true, but it is unfair to blame Aemond when Aegon ordered their deaths. It is unfair to blame a tree for catching fire when someone else lit the match. It is cruel to hope a puddle of snow won't melt once someone places a burning candle in the middle of it. You will never forgive Aemond nor Aegon for their actions that day, and part of you still relives what happened that day almost daily, and yet you hope to one day wake up to be able to forget it ever happened. 

You smack your lips softly before speaking as if you were trained. As a lady. ‘’Not all, if you must know. He spared my mother.’’ You say, tightlipped. Aemond ran her through, you saw the scars in her neck. But she did again, what she is good at: Blood magic and she survived by taking the life of your father, her own husband.

You finally see what Larys is after. He is not here to help you; he is here to test your loyalties and to ask if you are true to your husband. ‘’And yet you pretend to be on Aemond’s side? After he raped, plundered, and tormented you?’’ Larys asks, sincerely. 

That answer was coming, and you knew it. And yet it hurts your soul, burns your insides, and shatters your heart. Because your love with Aemond is fickle, it is like a burning flame on a candle. One gust of wind and it’s all over. It reminds you of that crucial fact. 

How strong can a seed grow, that was planted in death earth, and watered with blood and sorrow? 

‘’I’m a wife now.’’ You respond, as if that explains your change of heart. ‘’I am married. I have duties, whether I like them or not. Aemond has only harmed me when I tried to run.’’ Your fingers touch the numb skin by your eye, where your sapphire sits. Still, that weasel of a man doubts your loyalty to the man you lost your child for.

You get in his face, sizing him up like you have seen your husband do a million times before folding your hands in front of you as a Lady. ‘’I have little say or choice, Lord. Aemond and I started our relationship rocky, but it has become stable, at least something worth fighting for. Do you think our relationship and more importantly, the king’s war will go smoothly if my husband is unhappy?’’ 

He becomes uncertain, perhaps a bit frightened when you mention the King.

‘’He has quite the temper.’’ Aemond does. He is like a dragon.

You raise your brows.

‘’He does.’’ You admit. ‘’Shall we get my supplies or shall I find someone who will?’’ 

‘’No need, my Lady. We shall find you a parchment and quill and ink.’’ He takes steps ahead of you, and you follow him, suspicious.

He leads you to an unfamiliar grant room, as big as a hall. There is a double bed in it, with green silk sheets and beautiful golden stitched details. You have entered the King’s rooms before, but this is not his room. Your eyes quickly search for a quick way out, should you need it. Larys rummages through a desk that stands in front of the window. You walk to the wooden wardrobe and notice dresses with elaborate details in the color green. 

‘’We are in Alicent’s rooms, aren’t we?’’ You murmur, uncomfortable that you are trespassing in the rooms of your mother-in-law. ‘’I can tell by the green and gold decorated furniture.’’ You walk a little further into the room, pointing at a hairbrush where clear red hairs are stuck on.

‘’I’m impressed. You are not stupid, Willa. No matter what they say about you.’’ Larys responds after a while. ‘’You can write whatever message you’d like. I’ll make sure it gets to the messenger.’’ 

Aemond taught you too well by hiding your letters from you how much power there is in reading someone’s letters.

As if you trust Larys with that. But to admit that you know, would be to lose this advantage. So you fake a smile, and nod obediently. Larys leaves the rooms as you sit down at the former Queen’s desk, taking a letter of Parchment.

Dear Cregan,

Once upon a time,

My parents wished me to marry you.

Your sigil is the dire wolf, mine is the snow fox. The two are said to be kin, to be family.

We are both Northern and the blood of ice runs as fire through our veins.

I must admit that my feelings for the man you call my ‘captor’ have become anything but uncomplicated, and I worry for my future as his wife. 

I worry about the future for us all, should this war continue. I beg you to reconsider your potent position in this war, as your friend and as tribute to what was done to my family. You were warden of the North. You and the North failed me and my family. 

The least you can do is bend the knee to my husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen, and to pay your debt that is owed to me.

Because if you won’t,

I will do what my family has done for generations.

I will ‘Await My Turn’ and take what is owed to me, with ‘Fire and Blood’.

Your friend and ally, or the reason you will hate being granted another day to breathe,

Her lady Willa WyldeWoods of the SnowfoxWoods and the WyldeCrest Keep.

After 5 attempts your letter is to your liking. There was one detail you considered adding to your letters, but it is best that Cregan does not know this. You notice your dress has become tighter than usual, you notice emotional swings and you notice the strange, explaining cravings for cheese and banana pies. You are likely with child.

And the only way to ensure this one won’t get run through with a sword, or sacrificed, is to make sure no one knows of your pregnancy. Not even Aemond, for as long as possible.

You take your letter with you, make sure the desk is clean and tidy for Alicent and throw away her former old unneeded letters as well. You empty the bin in the fireplace before lighting it yourself, to ensure no one will know.

You walk back with your letter hidden under your slightly swollen belly, your big fur coat protecting you from unwanted attention. A few maids and servants curtsy to you as you pass them on your way to where they keep the ravens, in the maester’s rooms. It takes a half hour to find it, but once you do, you are relieved that the room is empty. You grab a raven by the feathered neck, before tying your message to his neck. ‘’Find Cregan. Find Winterfell. Quickly.’’ You tell the raven before sending him off.

You watch as the raven takes wing. You smile, walking back to your husband’s rooms. Aemond is not there yet, so you decide to read a few books he picked out for you. Your favorite is the story of the pretty princess who falls in love with a horrible beast. You are just by the page when they have their first kiss when Aemond enters the room, his face crestfallen and his body language unreadable. 

You sit up on the bed, greeting your husband. ‘Hello.’’ Instead of greeting you back, or kissing you, he throws something at your feet. You look at the burned remains of your letters and the letter you just sent, covered in blood. Someone killed your raven.

‘’Is it true?’’ Aemond asks. You tear up helplessly, afraid of him to see the monster again. Yet you force yourself to be the big brave girl.

‘’I wrote Cregan, yes.’’ You hope he understands it. ‘’I want to stop this war. I know you’ll resent me for it. You’ll find me a spineless little stupid girl…’’ He called you stupid dozens of times before.

Your book is pushed aside, and it closes by accident as Aemond rubs his bloodied fingers off on his vest, flipping you on your back. You are slightly frightened, slightly surprised by his gentle touch and his smile. ‘’Fuck Cregan, fuck the war. Is it true?’’ He breathes, looking at you as if you are a miracle. His hands softly rub your belly. ‘’Is it true, my little fox? Do you keep a big secret from me?’’ He breaks into a grin. ‘’Is there a tiny warrior in your belly?’’ You nod, wordlessly before tearing up, crying as you recall your other son, who died in your womb. How you bled him out of your body.

‘’Are you pleased?’’ You manage to ask, between sobs. Aemond places your head on his shoulders, hugging you tightly when giving your belly enough space.

‘’You know I am.’’ You are relieved. He is happy. He likes it.

You do have one worry. ‘’What if it’s a girl?’’ Men don’t want their wives to give them girls.

Aemond told you once that girls will be married off. But that man has changed. ‘’I shall protect her.’’ He murmurs. ‘’You and her both.’’

And finally there is one final ‘what if.’ 

‘’What if it’s another…’’ Disaster?

You are kissed by him, dozens of little kisses all over your teary face. ‘’Shh.’’ he hushes you, gently. ‘’I shall hold you if need be, I shall bury them if need be, and I shall love you all the same as if not a moment has passed.’’ You are thankful, glad and you feel a bit more safe knowing Aemond won't resent you for it.

‘’So you wrote Cregan?’’ He asks, changing the subject.

You weakly touch his silver hairs, running your finger through his silk locks. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ You murmur and it's the truth. What were you thinking?

Aemond sighs, letting you play with his hair. ‘’We are already at war with him, Willa. Perhaps this development is good. He likes you more than me.’’ Perhaps. Time will tell.

Aemond moves a little closer, his lips leaving kisses all over your body that he slowly unveils. He kisses your belly. He joins you lying on the bed, his arms wrapped around your belly. 

You drif asleep at some point, and awake with your husband snoring peacefully next to you. There is a knock on the door.

Aemond woke, startled. He puts his chamber robe on. He opens the door to let a servant in, who carries a message. ‘’Thank you.’’ Aemond murmurs as the messenger leaves. He grabs a handful of letters, skimming through their senders before deciding to open one. 

His brows briefly knit together as one, before he laughs, quietly to himself. He grins, placing himself back in bed by your side to read the rest. ‘’Husband?’’ You wonder teasingly.

‘’My spies in the North report an increasing amount of men leaving Cregan’s armies.’’ That is good. And odd. The men of the North are loyal. Why could they leave? ‘’They heard rumors that Cregan is marked by some God? They worried about their safety and fled.’’ He chuckles.

You try to smile, but your head begins to pound. You are wary. Aemond continues to talk, amused by it all. ‘’Apparently someone is out there in the North, killing Cregan's men and sacrificing them to some old Northern god.’’ You picture your mother on the day Aemond died, before clutching Aemond’s hand.

‘’Did your spies tell you how these people died?’’ You ask. He rereads the letter.

And he confirms your worst fear. ‘’Slit of the wrists.’’ It is your mother. You know it is.

You know one woman who does that.

"'The blood tree.’’ You mutter, getting up from the bed, putting your robe on.

‘’Aemond, it might be my mother.’’

He never believed the tales of witchcraft you told him. He is a believer of the Seven. ‘’We simply must send her a thank you note.’’

So you are pregnant, and the sacrifices increase all of a sudden? There is a storm coming. ‘’Aemond, she is dangerous.’’ You remind him. ‘’Think about what she did to our son. She brought you back from the grave.’’ 

‘’What does she want?’’ He wonders. ‘’What is her motive, what drives her? I still don’t understand why she brought her killer back?’’ He means himself. You are hurt by those words and stiffen. He sighs, kissing your forehead.

You know what she wants.

To see you, on the Iron throne

‘’I don’t know, Aemond. It can’t be good.’’ That moment another servant enters your rooms, handing you a letter too. You open it without a second thought, and the maid leaves in a hurry.

You read the first word and freeze, spinning the letter over so you can see the sigil. 

The blood tree.

The symbol of your mother’s house. And she has written to you. There are three sentences there, but they hit as blows and cause your worries to increase until you clutch Aemond’s arm, yelling at him to read it too.

Love is strong

Blood is stronger

See you soon, my child.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jacob Flees from Laban

Now Jacob heard that Laban’s sons were saying, “Jacob has taken away all that belonged to our father and built all this wealth at our father’s expense.” And Jacob saw from the countenance of Laban that his attitude toward him had changed.

Then the LORD said to Jacob, “Go back to the land of your fathers and to your kindred, and I will be with you.”

So Jacob sent word and called Rachel and Leah to the field where his flocks were, and he told them, “I can see from your father’s countenance that his attitude toward me has changed; but the God of my father has been with me. You know that I have served your father with all my strength. And although he has cheated me and changed my wages ten times, God has not allowed him to harm me. If he said, ‘The speckled will be your wages,’ then the whole flock bore speckled offspring. If he said, ‘The streaked will be your wages,’ then the whole flock bore streaked offspring. Thus God has taken away your father’s livestock and given them to me.

When the flocks were breeding, I saw in a dream that the streaked, spotted, and speckled males were mating with the females. In that dream the angel of God said to me, ‘Jacob!’

And I replied, ‘Here I am.’

‘Look up,’ he said, ‘and see that all the males that are mating with the flock are streaked, spotted, or speckled; for I have seen all that Laban has done to you. I am the God of Bethel, where you anointed the pillar and made a solemn vow to Me. Now get up and leave this land at once, and return to your native land.’ ”

And Rachel and Leah replied, “Do we have any portion or inheritance left in our father’s house? Are we not regarded by him as outsiders? Not only has he sold us, but he has certainly squandered what was paid for us. Surely all the wealth that God has taken away from our father belongs to us and to our children. So do whatever God has told you.”

Then Jacob got up and put his children and his wives on camels, and he drove all his livestock before him, along with all the possessions he had acquired in Paddan-aram, to go to his father Isaac in the land in Canaan.

Now while Laban was out shearing his sheep, Rachel stole her father’s household idols. Moreover, Jacob deceived Laban the Aramean by not telling him that he was running away. So he fled with all his possessions, crossed the Euphrates, and headed for the hill country of Gilead.

On the third day Laban was informed that Jacob had fled. So he took his relatives with him, pursued Jacob for seven days, and overtook him in the hill country of Gilead. But that night God came to Laban the Aramean in a dream and warned him, “Be careful not to say anything to Jacob, either good or bad.”

Now Jacob had pitched his tent in the hill country of Gilead when Laban overtook him, and Laban and his relatives camped there as well. Then Laban said to Jacob, “What have you done? You have deceived me and carried off my daughters like captives of war! Why did you run away secretly and deceive me, without even telling me? I would have sent you away with joy and singing, with tambourines and harps. But you did not even let me kiss my grandchildren and my daughters goodbye. Now you have done a foolish thing.

I have power to do you great harm, but last night the God of your father said to me, ‘Be careful not to say anything to Jacob, either good or bad.’ Now you have gone off because you long for your father’s house. But why have you stolen my gods?”

“I was afraid,” Jacob answered, “for I thought you would take your daughters from me by force. If you find your gods with anyone here, he shall not live! In the presence of our relatives, see for yourself if anything is yours, and take it back.” For Jacob did not know that Rachel had stolen the idols.

So Laban went into Jacob’s tent, then Leah’s tent, and then the tents of the two maidservants, but he found nothing. Then he left Leah’s tent and entered Rachel’s tent. Now Rachel had taken Laban’s household idols, put them in the saddlebag of her camel, and was sitting on them. And Laban searched everything in the tent but found nothing.

Rachel said to her father, “Sir, do not be angry that I cannot stand up before you; for I am having my period.” So Laban searched, but could not find the household idols.

Then Jacob became incensed and challenged Laban. “What is my crime?” he said. “For what sin of mine have you so hotly pursued me? You have searched all my goods! Have you found anything that belongs to you? Put it here before my brothers and yours, that they may judge between the two of us.

I have been with you for twenty years now. Your sheep and goats have not miscarried, nor have I eaten the rams of your flock. I did not bring you anything torn by wild beasts; I bore the loss myself. And you demanded payment from me for what was stolen by day or night. As it was, the heat consumed me by day and the frost by night, and sleep fled from my eyes.

Thus for twenty years I have served in your household—fourteen years for your two daughters and six years for your flocks—and you have changed my wages ten times! If the God of my father, the God of Abraham and the Fear of Isaac, had not been with me, surely by now you would have sent me away empty-handed. But God has seen my affliction and the toil of my hands, and last night He rendered judgment.”

But Laban answered Jacob, “These daughters are my daughters, these sons are my sons, and these flocks are my flocks! Everything you see is mine! Yet what can I do today about these daughters of mine or the children they have borne? Come now, let us make a covenant, you and I, and let it serve as a witness between you and me.”

So Jacob picked out a stone and set it up as a pillar, and he said to his relatives, “Gather some stones.” So they took stones and made a mound, and there by the mound they ate. Laban called it Jegar-sahadutha, and Jacob called it Galeed.

Then Laban declared, “This mound is a witness between you and me this day.”

Therefore the place was called Galeed. It was also called Mizpah, because Laban said, “May the LORD keep watch between you and me when we are absent from each other. If you mistreat my daughters or take other wives, although no one is with us, remember that God is a witness between you and me.”

Laban also said to Jacob, “Here is the mound, and here is the pillar I have set up between you and me. This mound is a witness, and this pillar is a witness, that I will not go past this mound to harm you, and you will not go past this mound and pillar to harm me. May the God of Abraham and the God of Nahor, the God of their father, judge between us.”

So Jacob swore by the Fear of his father Isaac.

Then Jacob offered a sacrifice on the mountain and invited his relatives to eat a meal. And after they had eaten, they spent the night on the mountain. Early the next morning, Laban got up and kissed his grandchildren and daughters and blessed them. Then he left to return home. — Genesis 31 | The Reader’s Bible (BRB) The Reader’s Bible © 2020 by Bible Hub and Berean Bible. All rights Reserved. Cross References: Genesis 4:21; Genesis 15:1; Genesis 16:5; Genesis 20:3; Genesis 21:22; Genesis 21:27; Genesis 21:30; Genesis 24:50; Genesis 25:20; Genesis 26:3; Genesis 27:19; Genesis 27:44; Genesis 28:13; Genesis 28:18; Genesis 29:20; Genesis 29:23; Genesis 29:32; Genesis 30:29; Genesis 30:32; Genesis 30:39; Genesis 30:43; Genesis 35:2; Genesis 37:5; Genesis 37:25; Genesis 44:9; Exodus 3:7; Exodus 18:2; Leviticus 19:32; Numbers 20:3; Deuteronomy 8:15; Joshua 22:34; Judges 11:10; Judges 11:29; 2 Samuel 19:39; Hebrews 13:5

The Lord visits Laban

[feyhunter78]

Trial of Tributes (10/?)

Description: Aemond brings up someone from your past, and you have your first encounter with his sister.

Series masterlist

You stiffed, your grip on Aemond tightening. “We never—he never touched me, My King, you must believe me.”

How did he find out about Vahgn? You were so careful.

He hummed in response, hand still trailing up and down your back.

“I did not even like him, he scared me, he attempted to come in through my window, I was so frightened when I found out.” You said, pushing yourself somehow closer to him, praying he would believe you.

Aemond was kinder, more forgiving when you were wrapped in his arms, and you intended to make use of that.

“I believe you, issa ābrazȳrys.” He said, his soft voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket, all but a small seed of fear melting away.

You looked up at him, tears pricking the back of your eyes. “I am yours Aemond, no one else has ever or will ever touch me.”

He hummed again, a low tone of satisfaction.

“Might we return to our chambers? I am a bit famished.” You admitted, still clinging to him.

Aemond nodded, and you slipped from his lap, adjusting your dress as best you could, looking at the snapped laces in despair.

“I will buy you a new gown.” He said simply, offering you his arm.

You walked in companionable silence, trying to keep the concerned look off your face.

Vahgn was the only man you had ever been alone with. You both were mere children at the time, before your mother had died, and your father deemed all men to be a danger to your virtue.

He was kind, and you spoke about your favorite books and sweets available at the market. Nothing had ever happened, you were always too nervous to bring shame upon your family, but that didn’t stop young you from dreaming. Or from Vaghn’s feelings developing.

Unfortunately, Vahgn hadn’t taken your father’s orders well. He became obsessive, pacing outside your window at all hours, begging you to run away with him. You told him no, sent letters trying to dissuade him, to encourage him to find someone else, but it never worked, it only seemed to fuel his fire.

Despite his odd behavior you still held affections for him. He was a close friend for many years, and you knew if Aemond was to know the truth…you had not yet seen the might of Vhagar and you did not wish to.

A shiver of fear ran through you, and Aemond unclasped her cloak, draping it around you. “It was foolish of me to tear your gown; the halls of the Keep grow quite cold in the winter.”

You glanced out the window, the first signs of winter were upon King’s Landing. Winds buffeted the windows, and snowflakes swirled down from the thick clouds. The sky was a dreary gray, and the guards you could see had donned thicker cloaks as they patrolled the Keep.

“My home has always remains largely untouched by winter; I must admit I am ill prepared.” You pulled your gaze away from the window and to your husband.

Aemond stood tall, his arms behind his back, his tunic made of a green and gold brocade was meant to match your own gown, a thing of beauty that was now covered by his black cloak.

“I shall speak with my mother about acquiring you the proper winter wardrobe.” He said, opening the door to your shared quarters for you.

You entered and ducked behind the changing screen in order to shed yourself of your ruined clothing. While you were out of Aemond’s eyesight, you let out a silent, shaky breath. You needed to remain calm, Vhagn was gone, Aemond believed your words, and you were safe.

You repeated those words in your mind as you changed and emerged to see Aemond reading quietly, a platter of assorted finger foods on the table. “Would you mind?” You turned and motioned to the laces of your dress.

Aemond swiftly tightened and secured the laces, fingers splaying on your ribs, his head ducked low to whisper in your ear. “You would never lie to me, would you, y/n?”

Your heart was racing, pounding against your chest, and you feared he could hear it. Aemond rarely called you solely by your name, there was always a lady , my, or sweet in front of it.

You turned in his arms, cupping his face, your thumb caressing the raised skin of his scar. “Of course not, you are my husband.”

Aemond’s good eye fluttered shut, and he leaned into your touch. “That I am.”

He said no more on the subject and bid you to eat, which you did, grateful the matter seemed to be dropped.

A few weeks later you sat in front of the fire, a stack of book the Queen Mother had suggested you read in order to help you step into the role of queen, beside you. You had a basic education, you could read and write, but you were never taught much past running a household, or other womanly duties , and you were cursing your father for his lack of foresight.

A knock at the door caught your attention, and you hurried to answer it, grateful for the excuse to put the headache inducing books away.

In the doorway stood a woman with flowing silver hair and lavender eyes. She was clutching a small silver haired girl to her side. This must be Princess Helaena, and her daughter Jaehaera, you realized, taking in the obviously Targaryen features they shared.

“Oh, I was looking for Aemond.” Helaena said, her voice soft and dreamlike.

You stepped back and opened the door wider for them. “He has been called away but will hopefully return soon, if you wished to wait for him?”

Helaena seemed hesitant.

“I would not mind the company, I hate being alone, and I have sweets for the little one.” You added, giving Jaehaera a small smile.

She hid her face in her mother’s skirts, but Helaena gave you a small smile of her own. “We will wait a little while.”

You let them in and shut the door behind them, pulling out the candies you had brought from home and laying them out on a nearby plate. “Please enjoy, they’re a popular favorite among the children of my home.”

Jaehaera looked at her mother who urged her to take one.

“He is overseeing reconstruction of the dragonpit.” You said, feeling awkward as the mother-daughter pair stood in silence.

“Yes, I have been asked for my input, but have been unable to visit.” Helaena said, her eyes flickering to the fireplace.

“Would you like to take a seat?” You motioned to the chairs nearest the fire.

Jaehaera took another candy from the platter and looked at her mother.

“Aem—the king has made sure there are no…unseen entrances, if that is what worries you.” You said softly.

Aemond had told you of the cold-blooded killing of Helaena’s children, how they sprung up from secret passages throughout the Keep and drenched the floor of the Queen Mother’s chambers in innocent blood.

The idea of it, of your own children being killed in front of you, made you sick to your stomach.

Helaena stiffened and Jaehaera seemed to be holding her breath.

“I—I am so sorry, I did not mean to stir up such memories, forgive me.” You said quickly, burying your hands in your skirts. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Then the moment passed and Helaena reached for a candy before she sat in the chair nearest the fire, her eyes falling on the books that still lay nearby. “You are studying?”

You hurried over and began to clean them up. Surely, she would go to Aemond and tell him how horrid of a hostess you were after such terrible blunders twice in a row. “Yes, the Queen Mother suggested them to me, I wish to be a better help to the king, and the realm.”

“Does Aemond tell you to address him by his title?” She asked, her eyes were soft but had a wariness about them that set you on edge.

“No, he actually quite prefers I use his name, or call him husband, but I know it is not proper outside our chambers.”

“We are in your chambers now.” Helaena said simply, as if the rules of court society had no meaning to her.

You tucked away the books, then sat as well. “I suppose you are right.”

“I like Uncle Aemond.” Jaehaera said, her voice soft like her mother’s.

“I do as well, he is very kind.” You told her, giving her a smile. It pained you to see such a dour look on a child so young.

Jaehaera didn’t return your smile, but the tension in her shoulders lessened, and it reminded you of something.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Aemond had this made for Jaehaera.” You got up and found the small wooden cat. Aemond had been debating whether to present his niece with a small dragon toy, seeing as her own dragon had been killed in the smallfolks’ revolt.

He voiced his misgiving to you, and you suggested another animal. During your time spent in the gardens, you noticed that Jaehaera seemed to have befriended a stray cat. She would speak softly to it, and bring it small bits of food.

You handed the toy, one you had spent time painting to match the coloring of the stray, to her. “Here, take this with the apologies of your uncle that he could not be here to gift it to you himself.”

“Sun-shed fields and panes of glass, the flower blooms, and the dice are cast.” Helaena mumbled, fidgeting with the embroidery on her sleeves.

“Beg pardon?” You looked at Helaena, hand still outstretched to Jaehaera.

“A kitty!” Jaehaera squealed happily, taking both you and Helaena aback, as she held it up to her eyes, a smile spreading across her face.

“A cat?” Helaena asked, shifting towards her daughter. “I would have thought that perhaps…”

“I must admit I noticed Princess Jaehaera’s newest friend in the garden and made mention of it to Aemond. But it was all his idea.”

Helaena gave you a soft smile. “That is very kind of you.”

You returned her smile and sat back in your seat. “It is nothing, truly.”

“You are much more observant than they say.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Aemon had warned you that his sister could be quite blunt, and that it was never with an ill intent, her mind was simply different from most others, and often times the rules of polite society did now fall upon her. “Thank you?”

Helaena looked at you with those strangely piercing eyes. “Did any of your kin fight in the war of succession?”

“My youngest brother.” Your mind flittered to Tobias, he stood to inherit nothing and threw himself into the ranks, proclaiming he would defend King Aegon II’s throne, and be greatly rewarded.

Helaena nodded, watching as Jaehaera made her toy cat walk up and down the leg of her chair. “Did he live?”

“No, he died by dragonfire I am told, from the Rouge Prince’s dragon.” You were not particularly close to your brother, but a rage burned within you at the news of his death. The Rouge Prince was careless, he massacred innocent villages for information and did not grieve.

“My apologies.” Helaena said.

You shook your head. “It is in the past, and many of my kin still live.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool

[thoughtfulgalaxytrash]

Let's share lore!

I love learning about lore people come up with their worlds. All from big important historical moments to small personal secrets a person might have.

So, let's share lore shall we? I'll go first!

Dwarves in my world can be born in two ways. When one feels the call of parenthood, they can either find a partner and do the deed with them.

Or they can go searching for a Very Important Stone. It can be anything from a field stone to raw gemstone.

The aspiring parent feels in their very core when they have found the Very Important Stone and will do almost anything to get it. If a dwarf suddenly offers to built you a new stone fence, it usually means that there's Very Important Stone in it.

When the Stone has been acquired, the parent will start the process of carving the form they feel in the Stone. Once done the parent will swaddle the Stone and carry it around, cooing and petting it like a baby. Other members in the community will also coo to the Stone, wishing things like luck, strength and good health.

These acts and words of love are ingrained to the Stone until one day it cracks open, revealing a newborn dwarf! It can take from weeks to some years, but it's always treated as a celebration no matter how long it has taken.

These children usually retain some visual traits from the stone they have been born from. They can vary from freckles, stripes and birthmarks to hair and eye colors. But whatever way or material the dwarf was born from, or what they look like.... Each child is treated with the same respect.

Because each one was born from labor of love.

[catulhu333]

How powerful Lilith really is...

...in the Zohar?

Kinda connected to my previous article (of which Lilith's depiction in the Zohar was a major part of), I would also want to shed some light on this rather obscure information.

With Lilith's power in the Zohar, she is actually described as actually stronger than her husband, Samael/Satan (Pinchas, verse 362): ""The appendix of the liver" MEANS a woman of harlotry, THAT IS LILIT, who comes out and emerges from the liver, THAT IS SAMAEL, to mislead people and denounce them, and she leaves the male to practice prostitution. And that is why IT IS WRITTEN: "the appendix of the liver;" "the appendix above the liver" MEANS THAT, after her fornications, she rises above him. She has "a harlot's forehead" (Yirmeyah 3:3) and subdues her husband, who is SAMAEL, WHO IS CALLED 'liver,' with the anger of the gall, being a quarrelsome and anger-prone wife who rules over her male. THUS "The harlot's forehead" has control over the liver, WHICH IS SAMAEL, BECAUSE SHE IS a quarrelsome, angry woman AND IS THEREFORE CALLED "THE APPENDIX ABOVE THE LIVER."

While this fragment could be seen as just describing Lilith "wearing the pants" in the relationship, there are further statements that confirm Lilith's power (and by proxy being stronger than Samael). In another verse, Lilith is called the most powerful sprit (Vayikra, verse 316): "Come and see: In a hole by the great, supernal abyss, there is a certain female, a spirit above all spirits. We have explained that its name is Lilit."

And the most interesting, and controversial part - Lilith (also called the "evil maid" or "evil maidservant") manged to defeat an aspect of God, the Shekhinah (also called the Matron or Matronit) (Mishpatim, verses 450-452): "So many blessings did the evil maidservant steal from the Shechinah through heavy tax burdens, different kinds of harsh judgments against the SHECHINAH'S children, numerous Temple sacrifices deprived from the Matron, the shaming of the Matron," ... "The pit represents the evil wife, Lilit, in her house, namely the prison. The evil maid seized the Matron and her children, NAMELY THE CHILDREN OF YISRAEL, put them in her exile, placed them in twisted chains, and tied their hands to the back; "she dwells among the nations, she finds no rest" (Eichah 1:3)."

As well taking the Shekhinah's power and position (Bereshit A, verse 268): "BECAUSE WHEN THE SHECHINAH IS IN EXILE, LILIT AND THE MIXED MULTITUDE RECEIVE HIS ABUNDANCE, WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE GIVEN TO THE SHECHINAH. FOR THIS REASON, THE EXILE IS CONSIDERED THE NAKEDNESS OF SUPERNAL YISRAEL."

While this is meant to be a metaphor for the exile of the Jews/Israelites, it also is meant to be direct real event, as the Bible states places and events on Earth, have (greater) counterparts in Heaven.

It's also notable the Shekinah is mentioned defeating and even destroying Samael in the future (Shoftim, verse 8): "Its members are pieces of wood in which a fire will burn, which is the fire of the commandment, in each member, to burn Samael BY the supernal Shechinah, THAT IS BINAH, with a tree that is Tiferet, and with all the trees, MEANING SFIROT, that are attached TO TIFERET. When the fire of the higher descends over the wood of the sacrifice, "the stranger that comes near shall be put to death" (Bemidbar 1:51), because he will be burned IN THE FIRE."

Defeating even an aspect of God, arguably makes Lilith the most powerful demon in (actual religious) Abrahamic scripture and literature.

Then why Lilith is often depicted as inferior, even visibly to Samael/Satan/Lucifer etc., and rarely equal in power at best? Well, as I mentioned in Demon WLW in Kabbalah, translated works of Kabbalah were in past harder to acquire, people often reading works that quoted or summarized them, that omitted this information. Later Kabbalistic writings also didn't depict Lilith as this powerful.

In general, aside from also sexism (not always and more in the past), Satan also is seen as the ultimate force of evil, with it being weird for many that another being like Lilith could equal or even exceed him in power. The verse with Lilith taking Shekhinah's power and position were also interpreted (I personally think misinterpreted) as God taking Lilith as a wife/consort/lover in the place of the Shekhinah.

[rainwingmarvel7]

Okay, because we are both using Holiday Grainger as an FC for something, & both sharing the name "Rhaella" for an OC I MUST know about your girl. Please info dump about Rhaella Targaryen to me

Oh my god, absolutely!!! You shall have ALL the lore about my lovely, somewhat deranged Targaryen girl! (Also I gotta say I love your Rhaella and your Holliday Grainger OC so much)

Technically, I have two versions of her, so I’ll share about both lol

Rhaella in the ATRF continuity:

Rhaella is the daughter of Alistair Dormaire and Daenerys Targaryen and the older twin of Alysanne Targaryen. She is named after Daenerys’ late mother (this is true in both continuities).

As the eldest child of Daenerys, Rhaella is heir to the throne of Meereen and is sent away from Westeros shortly after the death of her mother to learn how to rule. For a while, Daario acts as her regent. Grey Worm is also loyal to her and acts as the head of her guard, and both men teach her how to fight.

She becomes Queen of Meereen as soon as she comes of age, and she’s pretty damn good at it.

She’s very willful and headstrong and will do what she believes is right, no matter what other people tell her. She’s a lot like her mother in that regard.

She marries Garlan Hightower, her sworn protector, and they have two children together, Viserys and Rhaenys.

Still figuring things out for her in this version of her story, but she’s definitely more tame in this one.

Rhaella in The War of Two Queens (collab) AU continuity:

In this version, Rhaella is the daughter of Daario and Daenerys, who is now known as the Veiled Queen (she was revived by that one Red Priestess in Meereen but no one except for Daario knows about it). She is their only child and the heir to the throne of Meereen.

Her father also trained her to fight, and her weapons of choice are two Dothraki arakh. She is lethal in battle, but one would never know it just by looking at her. To most, she’s just a pretty face, but she hides much underneath.

Although known for her beauty and grace, Rhaella has quite the rebellious streak, much to the pride of her father and chagrin of her mother. It is not uncommon for her to sneak out of the palace to explore or vanish from diplomatic meetings she finds particularly boring.

She first comes into the story when one of Nadya and Jon’s sons, Theon, flees to Meereen from King’s Landing, seeking aid from Daario and the rumored Veiled Queen. He’s almost instantly smitten with Rhaella, by both her beauty and her rebellious nature, and she quickly falls for him too.

It is Rhaella who brings Theon to Drogon in order to tame him, as was the boy’s mission. She had already managed to hatch a dragon of her own, a wiry red she-dragon named Skydancer, after having failed to tame Drogon herself in her youth.

Not long after that, Rhaella and Theon are married (talk about a whirlwind romance), and after some time together (they also have two kids with the same names as her other version) and a lot of convincing, Rhaella pledges Meereen’s support of his mother’s claim to the throne of Westeros.

However, this is when the cracks in Rhaella begin to show. She is just like her mother. She’s got that Targaryen madness in her.

When she gets to King’s Landing and sees the Red Keep for the first time during the Second Battle of King’s Landing, something in her switches. This was meant to be her mother’s kingdom. It was stolen from her. It was stolen from her family. And she intends to avenge what was lost.

Riding on Skydancer, she starts to burn the Red Keep and parts of the city, with the intent of killing every single member of the side of the royal family who stands against her (which would be Nahia Dayne’s family for the most part) and razing the city. Realizing her sudden change, Theon and his twin sister Margaery, who had also acquired a dragon named Eddarion (long story), are forced to confront her.

Theon tries to get her to see reason, but it does not work. Rhaella refuses to be stopped. A dragon fight ensues, and Skydancer ended up being killed by Eddarion. Rhaella is able to jump free of her dying dragon onto the Red Keep and manages to get inside.

Although she fights against several members of the royal family in the Red Keep, her final confrontation is against Genna Westerling, Theon’s betrothed before he had fled and now a trained member of the Faceless Men. After a fierce battle, Genna puts a sword through Rhaella, killing her and ending her very brief reign of terror.

Basically, she seems sweet and good-natured until she’s really not lol.

Ok damn that was a lot more lore than I thought I had lol. Rhaella’s kind of crazy (most of the time), and I love her for it. Thanks for asking! I love any excuse to talk about OCs!

[lucigoo]

My first time doing a Tumblr "fest" so here goes'

Bagginshield-tober:Breakfast, these prompts are so much fun.

Bilbo awoke in his large, luxurious bed and realised it was cold on one side, where was his husband now? He thought with a grimace. It was almost time for breakfast, and not just any breakfast, but First Breakfast. There was an unwritten rule in this marriage that Thorin could go do his kinging thing AFTER breakfast and a full stomach, never before. So what was going on? And Bilbo hoped he was happy because now Thorin had an annoyed hobbit to deal with, He got up and dealt with his morning ablutions and got dressed in some of his warmest clothes. Winter clung in the Mountain and Spring was having trouble fighting through the snow and cold. Bilbo consoled himself with the warm scones he had pilfered in a napkin as he went on a dwarf hunt.

Bilbo found himself  heading to the Throne Room annoyed. It felt like he had found every dwarf he had ever met but the one he wanted on his mission and it was almost time for Second breakfast now, but Bilbo, and Thorin, hadn't even had First breakfast. 

He saw the back of Dwalin’s head and felt triumphant at last. He puffed himself up, marched forward and instantly melted at the sight in front of his eyes. There, sat on a blanket in front of the Throne, with a babe in his arms, a few toddling around and a couple of older dwarflongs was his husband. The Majestic Thorin Okenshield with such a soft smile it made Bilbo’s heart melt. He must have made a noise as Thorin’s head whipped around and his smile became radiant, causing Bilbo’s knees to go weak. 

“Bilbo, menu, I have missed you.” he said in that deep rumbling voice of his that always made Bilbo weak at the knees. Thorin held a hand out for his husband who eagerly took it.

“I apologise for leaving our chambers before breakfast. I went to acquire some delicacies from the kitchens for you when a Dam asked if i knew anyone who could babysit as there was a difficult birth to attend. As it's the first birth in the mountain they couldn't decide who should stay behind. I offered my services and as many from the Blue Mountains with us know I am capable.” He told Bilbo. Bilbo realised Thorin was nervous of his reaction as he rarely, if ever rambled or offered explanations. Bilbo just smiled softly and lent down to kiss his cheek and coo at the infant in his arms. “Of course, no worries my dear, though, have you eaten?” He asked, suddenly worried. Thorin couldn't help the soft chuckle he let escape. “No, menu, I have not, however, Bombur and Bifur are putting together a breakfast feast and fetching their brood, Gimli and the boys, so we shall have a royal breakfast with the pebbles and the consort. How does that sound?” He asked the older dwarflings who had been listening. Their faces lit up as they rushed forward to clamber all over the King, the Consort and the giant guard Dwalin who was a great climbing frame and didn't even move when you trod on his beard. A few of the children’s mothers returned to check their King was ok and found such a happy, joyous sight before them that they left quietly with tears in their eyes. Ready to share the news to the others that all was well under the Mountain and their children were safely enjoying breakfast surrounded by the Royal Family and their closest compatriots.