#may the children inherit a better world

[alwida10]

i'm confused on your stance on the israel/palestine situation. You mainly reblog pro-israel things, and never reblog anything about palestinians (unless it's something like "look at these palestinians who condemn hamas"). but you have also reblogged the occasional post condemning/recognizing the terrors of the israeli government? And you've also written in tags before denying what is happening to the palestinian people as being genocide (i think)?

so i am so confused. Are you pro israel? anti israel? and if you post about and recognize the wrongness of past genocides like the holocaust (as you should, rightfully so), why do you refuse to give the mass killing of palestinians any attention? even if there are israeli citizens who are being wrongfully targeted during all this, why does only that upset you and not the thousands more palestinian civilians being targeted? i'm just so confused? and i mean.. aren't you a mother? how can you look at thousands of children dying and only post about the side that is currently suffering less deaths?

Short answer: I’m pro-lasting-peace and anti-terrorism. The deaths of people, especially of those extreme numbers of people are devastating and a catastrophe. This isn’t a typical war. It’s a double-hostage situation where the perpetrator hides the Israeli hostages behind the Palestinian hostages. And that needs to end soon! And most importantly – it has to stay peaceful for good. Natanyahu will not be helping with that, but the Hamas will rather have every child in Gaza die a painful death than to give up their hostages – may it be the ones everyone calls “hostages” or the Palestinian civilians, who are just as much hostages of greedy, immoral, old men.  

I share posts that reflect, at least partially, my personal view. I like posts I generally sympathize with but include messages opposite to my personal view for sharing. Most social media pro-Israel posts are closer to my personal stance than most social media pro-Palestine posts are. The position of the state of Israel is even further removed from my personal stance, hence my criticism. The Hamas has the opposite goal, hence my even more pronounced criticism.

Long answer:

Real world politics are complex. Everyone who tells you they were not is lying and either trying to manipulate you or being manipulated themselves. (Such as this post.) There are never only two sides to it. Reducing it to two sides is a tool of manipulation.

There is a war going on and manipulation is a common and extremely efficient tool of modern warfare and we (everyone on social media) are a part of that. You might think that the conflict (several conflicts, since I’ll talk about Ukraine, too) is far away and does not include “us” (such as people in Europe and the US). That’s a wrong. Remember for a moment 2016 – 2017, when Trump was elected president of the United States. People who were aware and thinking critically realized even before the election that social media was swarming with Russian bots. These bots did their best to manipulate people into not voting, or voting third party. The leaked emails of Hillary were a part of the manipulation, eliminating Trump’s opposition.People fell for the manipulation and four years of LGBTQIA+ suffering, children-in-cages and destabilization of the NATO (the alliance against Russia) followed. Afterwards a lot of evidence for the Russian manipulation surfaced. But then it was too late. The people had been manipulated into helping the bad guys. The same manipulation repeated with the Brexit (2016-2020) ruining many chances of young people in the UK and further destabilization of the NATO. That’s why you should learn how to recognize manipulation and whenever you feel like there could be some involved think who might profit from it. Yes, people learned and that’s why you see all the “VOTE!! FFS VOTE!” posts making their rounds. Especially now, since elections of the US and of the EU are close.

How to manipulate someone: Make them think that they are fighting for a good cause (on surface level). But in truth this “good cause” only serves you, the manipulator. The people voting for Trump thought they voted for a better future, for having more money, for being safer. The people voting for Brexit thought basically the same. The Germans who voted Adolf Hitler into office had been desperate. The country had just lost the first world war. The economy war on the floor, ruined by the reparation payments Germany had to pay. The people worked hard, and still were unable to afford anything but (sometimes not even) the basic necessities. There were no future perspectives for them or their children. (Does that sound familiar?) Hitler promised to make “Germany great again”. He said the Arien people were a good, upstanding race. That Germany didn’t deserve having its colonies and land taken away by force. He said Germans were being threatened and close to extinction. He said that the Jews wanted to corrupt and annihilate the Germans.

Another tool of manipulation is the incorrect use of language to rile people up so they won’t think rationally anymore. If someone says “Person A is a pedophile and a rapist!” and it turns out Person A is trans and not a rapist, there is a solid chance said someone wanted to manipulate you by making you angry so you will rage against Person A without cross checking. If someone says “this is a genocide” that means fraction A is intentionally and efficiently trying to kill fraction B. It means they aim where the most people are. It means they don’t do anything to help anyone of the fraction B. The fact alone that we know where the IDF will strike next is a clear indicator Israel is in fact warning the civilians. It would not do so, if the aim was to annihilate every single Palestinian.

It’s the aim that makes the difference. IF Israel wanted to kill all Palestinians they would have very efficient tools to do so. And even if it’s hard to imagine a number 28 thousand deaths (as on 12.Feb.2024 as “small”, they still are. These numbers mean there are about 1555 deaths per week in average. In comparison, during the holocaust, Germany killed 17 Million people between 1.September 1939 and 1945. In average that have been 61.594 deaths each week. So why would someone willfully equal these two vastly different numbers? If someone says “genocide” to a military occupation of the west bank or the civil causalities during a counter strike against the Hamas who knowingly proclaimed war against the state of Israel, than there is a solid chance this person is trying to manipulate you by using emotionally charged wording instead of what can and has been proven – a military occupation. “But killing so many people is bad regardless what you call it” you might argue, and I agree. That’s why I criticize the Israeli government. Also, soldiers using the war to do unforgivable things, looting, beating people who have surrendered – this all has to be punished.

“So, why does it matter what you call it?” you might ask, and I sigh. Many, many Pro-Palestine posts aim to manipulate people from the noble point of being against the killing of Palestinians into being for the Hamas getting away with killing and raping Israelis (both Jewish and Muslims) and keeping the Israeli hostages (some of which might have gotten pregnant by rape - which might be a reason these particular girls/women have not been released as of yet). Calling what happens a “genocide” is manipulating you into that, because it takes away the rational reasoning. It takes away the rightful wish of Israeli civilians living in peace. It implies it was death and destruction simply born from being evil Jews who hate Palestinians so they want to kill them all. The moment you call the stuff going on a “genocide” and call for a ceasefire without the return of ALL hostages you become the equivalent of the people who voted for Trump or Brexit in good faith. It means you are speaking up for the hostages remaining slaves, the Bibas children and their mom remaining in the hands of their captors, and that killing Jewish women and men as well as raping them is an act that should not be punished.

5.Another way to manipulate people and radicalize is to establish a “we versus them” mindset where you have to choose between two positions, which are both extremes. What you did in your ask - claiming I would only reblog pro-Palestine posts when they condemned Hamas - that erases the part that said post focused a lot on the situation for the victims. You erased the nuance. But the nuance is where a possible solution can be found that does not includes shrugging while accepting that some children will be victims of decade old hate.

6. If you know a child gets abused and beaten by its parents you can treat its wounds, so YOU feel better, but in the end, when the child has to go back into the abusive environment you won’t have changed anything that really matters. You might have made it worse, even. If you really want to help the child you need to get it out of the abusive situation. The Hamas are the abusive parents in this analogy. It’s no secret they don’t care for their people. Pro-Palestine posts like to claim the Hamas would not hide behind civilians, schools, hospitals, or mosques. That is a lie. They do. They don’t give civilians shelter in their tunnels, they say “you have to go to the UN for help” when Palestinians ask for food, they steal humanitarian aid and SELL it to the refugee Palestinians. They don’t participate in projects to give Gaza its own water supply, and even demolish the structures build by outsiders like the EU and the US to build weapons from it.

When the British mandate was transformed into the state of Israel, the Palestinian people became refugees. Normally, refugees search refuge in countries where they become citizens and can build a normal life, work, get children, build an existence. Their children would no longer be considered refugees. They would be citizens of the new country. This happened at first, until Yassir Arafat (an Egyptian, NOT Palestinian) realized that the UN was willing to pay money for each refugee.

This money is normally intended to provide humanitarian aid for the people who are not able to build an existence. He went forward and build a system (including the UNWRA) that would do something unique. Unlike all other refugees, Palestinians stay refugees over generations, ripping away their possibility to create a true life. And all the money the UN pays (the major part originating from the US, Europe and Germany) goes not to the refugees. But to the Hamas, because these are the official leaders of the Palestinians in Gaza. You see – Arafat has actually developed a magnificent way to make himself and his friends rich by holding the Palestinian people in poverty and forced dependance. The Hamas use the money to build weapons and tunnels. But that’s not even the worst part. Because they need more than tunnels and weapons. They need people operating the weapons and using the tunnels. In fact, a dispute between the UNRWA and the Hamas happened in 2009, as the UNRWA (allegedly) wanted to include lessons on the holocaust into the curriculum of middle schools in Gaza.  That would have been contrary to what the Hamas wants. It wants to manipulate the Palestinian children into hating Jewish people, and dreaming of killing them all, so one day the children will grow up to be willing Hamas fighters. ). Here is a quote from the linked article: 

It was not just limited to history, social studies and religion — with a math book using an image of Palestinians hitting Israeli soldiers with slingshots to describe Newton’s second law of motion, the report said. Dead terrorists are also called “martyrs” throughout the books — with one ninth-grade math book using the term for Fatah leader Khalil al-Wazir, who led the 1978 massacre of 38 civilians, including 13 children, Bild noted. Most maps used in the books entirely erase the state of Israel, dubbing it a “Zionist occupation” and calling the entire region of Israel, Gaza Strip and the West Bank “Palestine,” the reports said.

The Hamas takes the money intended to help Palestinians. Today, all leaders of the Hamas are billionaires. They could use their billions to help their people. But they do not. Because they do not care for their Palestinian hostages.

Because basically, we don’t have a Israel-wants-its-hostages-back-and-commits-mass-murder-situation. We have a double-hostage situation. At first, the Hamas took all the civilians of Gaza hostage. They use them as a meat shield, to recruit new cannon fodder from and to manipulate the international community into seeing the Jews as the problem. Then they took Israelien hostages and basically hid them behind the Palestinian hostages. Natanyahu, the moron rushed his well-trained and highly motivated soldiers against the Palestinian hostages, because he doesn’t care for them. The Hamas likes that, because they can now claim Israel “martyred” the Palestinian hostages. In the end, they just die for the hate and political ambitions of old, hateful, greedy men.

As a mother, this breaks my heart and makes me so so angry. And looking at my peers and friends joyfully joining the antisemitism train (EXACTLY what the Hamas wants them to do) and marching off to attack Jewish people who had NO part for all this mess – that makes me lose my last hope in humanity.

[dunmeshistash]

Ryoko Kui Q&A (part of the Autograph event in Shanghai, China)

Here's the full Q&A copied from the post by Minute_Profession_34 on reddit

Original on weibo

About Ryoko Kui

Q: You have created a lot of interesting short manga in the past, do you have any favorite short manga by other artists?

A: A classic choice though, I think it's the collection of short stories by Fujiko F. Fujio. Other impressive works include "Hanshin: Half-God" by Moto Hagio, "Hanashippanashi " by Daisuke Igarashi, "茄子" by 黑田硫黄, "Skygrazer" by Ishiguro Masakazu, and "Tabi (The Journey of Life)" by Irie Aki. However, I haven't really read many short manga compilations.

Q: Do you prefer to create short manga or longer ones?

A: Long manga.

Q: Do you have a game that you highly recommend to fans?

A: Although not a game title, Steam Deck is the best thing I have bought in the last few years.

Q: What kind of music genre do you like?

A: I'm really not a music person and don't listen to music at all. Sometimes I listen to something like Tropical House.

About the creation & worldview of Dungeon Meshi

Q: Is the main storyline of the comics conceived at the beginning? Is the final ending adjusted during the serialization process?

A: I decided everything from the beginning. It may sound overly pretentious to say that, but I am the type of person who cannot move forward with each and every story unless I have decided on the main flow of the story. Of course, there are parts that I changed during the process because I thought, "I was going to do it this way, but it might not be natural," and there are parts that didn't work out the way I wanted them to. However, I think the story turned out to be roughly what I had in mind at the beginning.

Q: Will people outside of the dungeon incorporate the use of magic into their daily lives?

A: It would depend on the region. There are many sorcerers in elven and gnome cultures, but I don't think you will find many in dwarf and most short-lived cultures.

Q: What secrets of ancient magic are the elves hiding? Why would one be punished for doing anything related to ancient magic?

A: It is about the existence of Demon. They restricted that information because they didn't know what effect it would have on the world if the existence of Ddemon became known.

Q: How do adventurers know the time? Is there any dungeon having a different time flow from the normal world?

A: Some people bring things like clocks, but most only use their biological clock. There are also Dungeons where the flow of time is different from that on the ground.

Q: In the world of Dungeon Meshi, how do you deal with natural disasters, what would Laios or Marcille or Canaries do when there's a drought or a storm?

A: I don’t think it is so different from us.

About characters in Dungeon Meshi

Q: It’s about to give the new puppy a name again. Can Laos still beat Falin?

A: 7 out of 10, Laios will win. Or it may be decided by rock-paper-scissors or a raffle.

Q: Who will inherit the Golden Land after the passaway of Laios? The children and grandchildren of Yaad? Or the descendants of Laios? Or will there be a new Devourer?

A: Maybe the descendants of the Laios will inherit it, or maybe it will be passed on to someone with no blood ties at all. Or perhaps the monarchy will be abolished.

Q: Will Laios continue to eat monsters in the castle? And who will cook, maybe someone better than Senshi?

A: Many people in Merini are good cooks, but Senshi's cooking must be special to Laios. He may invite Senshi to cook from time to time.

Q: Where will Falin prefer to travel to?

A: She may prefer places where she can see landscapes and cultures she has never seen before.

Q: Would Marcille befriend a half-elf, such as Fionil? Since half-elves shouldn't think too much about longevity amongst themselves. Or would they not consider race as a factor to make friends but by fate?

A: Because mixed species in this world grow at very different rates and have very different abilities from person to person, there is often not much of a sense of sameness when you first meet them. They may or may not become friends as a result of interacting with each other as we would with any other human being.

Q: Is there any special meaning of Marcille and her mother's ribbons on the neck? And what about Cithis’s ribbon?

A: In elven culture, people with magic tattoos on their necks sometimes wear decorations covering their necks to hide the tattoos (mainly military personnel) This has spread to the general population, and many people wear decorations on their necks even if they do not have neck tattoos. Marcille and her mother's ribbons are just for fashion. While Cithis may have something special.

Q: Why wouldn’t Cithis wear a gorget? Or she’s not afraid of Dungeon Rabbits?

A: Maybe it’s suffocating or simply not liking it? The head-cutting Dungeon Rabbit is a fearsome monster, but it is not the first thing for the rear guard to be on the lookout for.

Q: How will Izutsumi and Falin get along with each other?

A: They may work together if necessary, but I doubt that Izutsumi will actively show interest in Falin (as she does with everyone).

Q: Itsuzumi has a beast soul mixed with a small amount of human soul, and does she shapeshift between a beast-man and a beast form like Lycion?

A: It can be done, but once transformed, she may no longer want to return to her human form.

*This Q&A seems to be strange

Q: What would Thistle do if he attended the former dungeon masters meetings?

A: Perhaps he would feel angry at the incompetence of other masters (their dependence on the devil).

Q: How did Milsiril accept Helki to stay by her side? After all, she hated elves and was bullied by her Canary teammates.

A: In the past, Helki was abandoned by his comrades for various reasons, and she could not leave him alone.

Q: Has Kabru ever had a real relationship with a girl? If so, what race or personality type of the girl was she?

A: I don’t think he cares about race, etc...

Q: What kind of soba will Mithrun make?

A: I hope he can make delicious soba.

Q: I would like to know the name of Mithrun’s brother or his brother’s crush!

A: His brother's name is Obrin (オブリン). I haven't thought of a particular name for his brother’s crush, so I'll name her appropriately now. Hmmm. Sultha (スルスハ).

Q: Since Mithrun used to assist Canary from behind, I wonder what kind of weapons he was good at using? Or was he good at using no weapons? (this is new info from the Korean Q&A)

A: He used a magic staff similar to that used by Pattadol. He was issued with the same one by the team. However, he no longer carried it because he lost it easily.

[kleopatra45]

Ooooh! Can you please talk about part of fortune in the house in solar return charts?

Part Of Fortune in Houses [Solar Return]

1st House

This placement indicates a year where your happiness and success are closely tied to personal growth and self-discovery. You may feel more confident and able to express yourself authentically, leading to opportunities that enhance your sense of self. Physical appearance, health, and vitality could also be a source of joy.

2nd House

With PoF in the 2nd house, financial success and material security are likely themes for the year. This could be a time when your income increases, or you find new ways to manage resources. The year may also bring clarity about what you truly value, leading to more aligned and fulfilling financial decisions.

3rd House

Happiness may come from interactions with your immediate environment, such as siblings, neighbors, or through writing, teaching, or studying. It’s a year where communication skills are highlighted, and you may find joy in sharing ideas or engaging in intellectual pursuits.

4th House

The focus this year is on your home life, family, and inner emotional world. You might find happiness through making your living space more comfortable or spending more time with loved ones. There’s a sense of emotional security and fulfillment that comes from your roots or past.

5th House

Expect a joyful and creative year, where pleasure, romance, and self-expression play a significant role. You might explore hobbies or talents that bring you happiness, or enjoy time with children or younger people. This can also be a time of romantic fulfillment and playful experiences.

6th House

The Part of Fortune in the 6th house suggests that your happiness this year comes from daily routines, work, and taking care of your health. You may find fulfillment in being of service to others or improving your well-being through better habits and self-care.

7th House

This placement indicates a year where relationships and partnerships are central to your happiness. You may experience growth through marriage, a significant partnership, or close friendships. Your interactions with others bring joy, and you may find success in collaborations.

8th House

The 8th house placement suggests a year of deep emotional or psychological transformation. You may find happiness in exploring the hidden or taboo aspects of life, such as through spiritual practices, therapy, or occult studies. Shared resources, inheritances, or financial investments may also bring unexpected gains.

9th House

You’re likely to find fulfillment through expanding your horizons, whether through travel, higher education, or exploring different cultures and philosophies. This year may involve spiritual growth, teaching, or publishing, with success coming from broadening your perspective.

10th House

A year where your career and public reputation are highlighted. You may achieve significant success or recognition in your professional life, and your ambitions are likely to be fulfilled. Your sense of happiness and purpose may be strongly connected to your achievements and standing in society.

11th House

With the PoF in the 11th house, your happiness is tied to social connections, friendships, and community involvement. You may find success through group activities, networking, or working towards a collective goal. It’s also a year where your hopes and dreams can manifest, especially with the support of others.

12th House

This placement suggests a year of introspection, solitude, and spiritual exploration. You may find fulfillment through retreating from the world, engaging in meditation, or exploring your subconscious mind. While it may be a more private year, the growth you experience internally can bring profound happiness.

©️kleopatra45

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

We don’t appreciate enough how GRRM made House Targaryen the poster children for his de/reconstruction of the fantasy chosen family trope, and we don’t appreciate how Jon and Dany are the main lens through which he does that. House Targaryen is fantasy on steroids—magic swords, magic look, magic lineage, perhaps the most magic pet one could have in the genre, and a magic destiny that’s specific to them and only them. There’s a foretold magical conflict and its main hero (as many would think), “the prince that was promised”, specifically has to be a Targaryen. This House’s history is so rich, but from a genre perspective, it is Aerys II’s reign and Robert’s Rebellion that’s the most interesting to analyze. Aerys isn’t special himself, but he is to sire the future savior of the world. Then Rhaegar is born and tragic as they are, all the signs point to him being the promised messiah. And Rhaegar becomes THE fantasy hero on steroids. He’s the perfect heir to House Targaryen’s legacy because not only is he to be the best of them, and many think he would have been had he lived, but he is the most perfect manifestation of House Targaryen as the personification of fantasy. There’s absolutely a point to him living and dying as the heir, the inheritor, the eternal symbol of what could have been of the Targaryen’s old glory.

Part of Rhaegar’s legacy extends to his son Aegon. Aegon had everything Rhaegar didn’t. A comet was seen at his conception—and this is an most important herald for the chosen one. So he is given a song, “the song of ice and fire”, and a king’s name to match his status as the new messiah. He didn’t live long but he inherited Rhaegar’s look in his youth too; the fantasy protagonist look. But Aegon died before he could be the hero.

You see Jon and Dany as chosen ones only works so well because of their House’s history, especially as (anti)parallels to Rhaegar and Aegon. They are the unexpected inheritors and challengers to their house’s legacy but in different ways.

Dany is the most immediate and obvious heir. There’s a beauty to her being the last of them and thus, the one bearing the entire house’s legacy. Dany is THE Targaryen. And in being that, she becomes THE hero. She’s got the hero’s look, the hero’s magic and destiny, and better yet, she got the hero’s sword and pet all in one. And, she’s legitimate! She is House Targaryen. But there’s a problem….shes a girl. And we all know House Targaryen’s history with girls.

Maester Aemon’s “no one ever looked for a girl” is quickly becoming my favorite Dany-related quote because it pretty much encapsulates her entire arc, especially as an inheritor to her house’s legacy. The hero they died knowing and expecting was the boy: first Rhaegar, then Aegon. But father and son are dead. Yet Daenerys lives. She inherits everything else they did and more! The Targaryens tried and failed to bring dragons back, but it was Dany who ultimately did it.

Now, Jon is Dany but flipped. From a meta point of view, he’s more fantasy protagonist than she is. He’s a boy, he’s got a big magic sword that he can swing about, and he’s perhaps fantasy’s most prolific trope in action—the magical hidden prince. But within this story, GRRM flips these two characters. Jon’s fantasy protag-ness doesn’t go away, it just morphs into something else. Unlike Dany, he may be a boy and he may have a sword, but he lacks literally everything else. He doesn’t have the look, his magic powers are from his other family, so is his magic pet, and his magic destiny has thus far developed outside his immediate association with House Targaryen. Dany is “what if Rhaegar was a girl?”, but we can’t even begin to ask these types of questions with Jon because there’s so much that precludes him from the fantasy hero role in story. He’s Rhaegar’s heir…but he doesn’t look like him…and he’s not even legitimate. So what do we do now?

GRRM destroyed his fantasy protag house and decided to build up again from the ground up, but did so by challenging the two most critical points—primogeniture and exceptionalism. With Dany, he makes a girl the Targaryen’s outward successor. This works really well because the Targaryens have a history of denying their female heirs. But now what’s left of them is a girl, and she is literally everything they could have hoped for. And she is a a reflection of her house, but her arc has at many times seen her be the antithesis of her ancestors. And I can’t help but think of the oncoming meta-textual showdown between her and Young Griff. On the surface Young Griff, a boy, is the preferred heir. But Dany is, in truth, the one.

Jon is interesting because, in my view, he challenges the Targaryen idea of exceptionalism. He’s easily the fantasy protagonist from the outside looking in. But he doesn’t have the Targaryen name, nor does he have the look. He has the blood, but what makes him special is that it is mixed with the other major fantasy protagonist house’s blood—he’s special in that he’s a hybrid. And this is interesting because if Aegon conquered the seven kingdoms because of a prophecy regarding him or one of his princely descendants, it’s quite the twist to have this messiah not even be a Targaryen prince (not in name anyway). That’s why all the hand wringing around “is Jon legitimate?” or “no one cares because he doesn’t look like Rhaegar” really isn’t the point. The point is for Jon to be the manifestation of the hero—the king—outside of that narrow framework. And if he succeeds, then GRRM would absolutely still be subverting prophecy and genre conventions.

There’s something to Jon and Dany being born as or after House Targaryen falls. House Targaryen has no crown, no throne, and their prophetic mandate has been usurped. But GRRM is so attached to them, and he certainly wants to rebuild them and hold fantasy to account. But to do so, everything we know about the Targaryens, everything the Targaryens knew about themselves, has to be challenged and put to the test by the personifications of all that a Targaryen hero couldn’t be: a girl, and a bastard.

[bessiejoan]

Astrology: Uranus in the houses

Uranus is righteous. Uranus is compelled to uphold values and beliefs for the greater good. Unlike Pluto, which destroys for the purpose of transforming, or Mars that destroys for the purpose of overcoming, Uranus destroys for the sake of what is considered right and fair. It will destroy in the name of truth and equity. It is the ultimate rebel and anti-authoritarion. It causes chaos in the face of resistance.

The house with uranus in it must act righteously, and the desired results must be righteous. Otherwise, volatility occurs.

1st house - You see the world differently and sometimes can't believe that you are forced to live in the constraints of society. Use your presence righteously to help others who are alienated.

2nd house - Spend money unselfishly. What you give to others will come back unexpectedly. Perhaps you don't even "believe in money," and you understand it as a created concept that keeps the poor suffering and the rich richer. You value unusual items and gifts.

3rd house - Others find it difficult to understand you and follow your chain of thoughts. You may get frustrated and exhausted by this, but you try to always speak your truth no matter what. Do this, and those who understand will love you. The ones that do not understand will be left behind. Use your words to advocate for others less fortunate in your community. The more you are involved in sibling drama, the worse it will get.

4th house - It's hard to find solid ground to call your home, but the more you hold onto the past is the more sudden and unexpected shake ups will occur. Practice empathy towards your family, and you will be truly empathetic to yourself.

5th house - Be respectful and kind in love. Do not fuck with others hearts, or it will come back around. Be open about the strangeness and taboos that you seek from the beginning. Sudden wins and loses in gambling. Unexpected accidents with children or pregnancy. Consider revolutionary ideas around these topics and how you can advocate for others in such positions.

6th house - You're compelled to fight authoritarian figures in your day and in your society because you hate being controlled. Step outside of the defensive fight and come up with your own routine and process without expecting others to agree to follow along.

7th house - Approach others with a fair and equal attitude. The more you celebrate the difference in others, the more it will be celebrated in you. You seek unusual partnerships and have open ideas about marriage, however, this must be actioned with consent.

8th house - Respect the property of others and do not fight over inheritance for selfish reasons. Embrace the sudden changes and loss. Fighting against it will cause more chaos.

9th house - Take ownership of your own learning. Your views and beliefs are against the norm and for the bettering of society. Just don't let your ego get so attached to your opinion that you close yourself off to learning. Otherwise, a greater force will have no choice but to continuously shake up your beliefs.

10th house - You are viewed by others as "different" or "strange." You should work to change society's perceptions, not to justify your strangeness, but to free others of stigma and discrimination.

11th house - You are the natural humanitarian. Its easy to get suddenly swept up in revolutionary ideas. Earn your money outside of the norm. Be careful when you dream strange and big for society. It must be with the purpose of benefiting those who need it, not just anarchy for the sake of defiance.

12th house - You have a strong hidden desire to break away and be free. You want to travel and explore alone. However, you can not avoid your generational karma. It follows you everywhere. The more open you are to understanding this, the more pleasant surprises will be delivered to you in unusual ways.

[evagreen-stories]

The Forest Beauty | (Aemond x f!modern!reader) (part 1/?)

Summary: time traveler decides to live her new life out in the kingswood, avoiding the new world she finds herself in until an encounter with a certain one-eyed prince changes her life.

Warnings: dark!themes, dark!aemond, obsessive!aemond, book!aemond, no intimacy (smut starts with part 2), intro and first part are kinda a slow burn to introduce the storyline & character

Non-Canon Storyline: 3 years post war – greens won, Aegon's only son was k*lled and only has two daughters remaining, he cannot produce more heirs, Helaena is alive but depressed,Aemond serves as prince regent ever since Aegon got injured during the war and is chronically sick and getting weaker, Aemond is to inherit the iron throne soon, Aemond k*lled Alys Rivers along with all other strongs, Aemond broke the betrothal to Floris Baratheon when he became Prince Regent and won the war (Also, I'm not a native english speaker, please be patient with me)

Divider @targaryen-dynasty

< intro masterlist part 2 > (coming soon)

You wander around the woods, returning from another day of working in the city and coming closer and closer to your home when you start to feel uneasy, as if you’re not alone in the forest. You stop and listen, noticing the sound of footsteps close by. With careful steps you approach the sounds, noticing a head full of silvery hair between the trees and watching it carefully.

A man with an eyepatch, dressed in black leather clothes and carrying a long, sheathed sword on his hip. You monitor him carefully; his hands behind his back as he is gazing out into the treeline, he seems to be taking a stroll. But this deep within the forest?

You stalk him for a while, trailing his steps as you make sure to stay hidden. Too busy with staring at him you don't notice a branch on the ground, stepping on it and causing a loud *krack* sound.

The silver haired stranger turns around quickly, facing you and making eye contact. You know it's too late to hide now, as his lilac eye meets yours and a wicked smile forms on his lips

“Hello there, little one. Are you lost?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say, looking him up and down more closely now. He doesn’t look like someone that should be wandering this deep into the forest. You notice the tell-tale signs of a Targaryen. You’ve heard of them and noticed a few children with these features when you explored the street of silk once. But who exactly was this man standing in front of you right now?

His mouth twitches, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Oh, I am not lost, little lamb. Simply having a nice stroll to take my mind off the stress of ruling. May I ask who I have the pleasure of finding so deep in the woods?”

“No, you may not.” You answer, staying wary of the stranger. You’re starting to connect the emblems on his clothes and scabbard with the ones you’ve seen on royal guards patrolling the city before, this man must be one of the princes. “You should leave. These woods aren’t a place for a pretty prince like you.”

“My, my, my. So confrontational. Why the defensiveness, my beautiful little lamb? Are you hiding something?” He steps closer to you, his voice now has a hint of danger in it.

“No one wanders this part of the woods. You’re better suited closer to the city.” You say, trying to sound more polite than before, quickly understanding the prince might not appreciate the disrespect.

“Ah, yes, no one wanders this part of the woods. Well, that only makes me wonder how a pretty little lamb like you got herself as deep in here as I did. Unless, of course, you are not alone.” His eye leaves yours, scanning along the tree line before stepping closer once again.

“Relax, this is no ambush. Unless you keep on intruding on my space, then it just might.” You say sternly, hoping to play into his paranoia and get him to leave quickly.

“I do so wish I could believe you, little lamb.” His eye still scans over the tree line as his hand falls to the hilt of his sword. “How do you expect me to relax when a beautiful girl like you is all alone in the woods? You couldn’t have gotten this far without help.”

“I have. You don’t think all that dirt and tools on me are for decoration, do you?” You say, gesturing to the axe tied to your belt, knifes dangling off the bag you carry that’s strung over your chest.

“And what exactly did I catch you doing all alone in the woods, little lamb?” His voice is firm now, eye narrowing as he takes a closer look at you, trying to judge you.

You remain quiet for a few moments before deciding to answer truthfully. “I live here.”

“You live here, little lamb?” His eye scans over you once more. “YOU live in the woods?” His voice is filled with equal measures of surprise and disbelief.

“I do.” You say affirmingly. “And I’m not fond of guests.”

“A woman alone in the wild? No man to protect her? No family?” His disbelief is evident in his voice and expression. “I cannot imagine how a beautiful woman like you has endured out here.”

Upset at his words, you feel anger starting to boil deep inside of you. Women in this time are still property to be owned, another reason why you decided to live out here, away from society. “Cut the feigned sympathy. I live just fine out here.”

“But is it really living, little lamb? Living in the wild? Surely a woman of your beauty must desire the comfort and luxuries of civilization. Do you feel no desire to start a family, to have someone care for you and protect you?” His tone seems kinder now, almost caring, although his disbelief is still clear and you cannot shake the feeling of danger coming from him.

Suspicious at his invasive nature you raise an eyebrow. “What is this? A tea party to exchange gossip?”

“Oh no, little lamb. You are a most fascinating creature and you have sparked my interest. I am merely trying to find out more about who you are.”

“I’m not interested in conversation-“

“Now, now, little lamb, we’ve come this far already. It wouldn’t be very polite to turn down a crown prince like this.” His eye narrows, an obvious predatory hint in his voice as his hand tightens on the hilt of his blade. “It’s appalling for a citizen to turn down their crown prince, my dear little lamb.”

You tighten your jaw, nervous at the sudden turn this situation has taken but unwilling to comply with his orders. “I am not a citizen of yours-“

“Everyone is a citizen of mine!” His words are soothing with anger as his patience has reached its limit and he pulls the blade from its sheath. “Now come closer little lamb. I’ll help you back to the city where you belong, where it’s safe.” He begins to stalk towards you, his dark gaze fixed upon you.

You take a few steps back before you turn around and start running, using the the fact you know these woods like no other to lure him away from where your home is before skillfully outmaneuvering him in the thick forest, hiding successfully in a small cave. The silver haired man tries to follow you, you can hear him yell profanities and curse words as he struggles to keep up with you, eventually getting caught up in the thicket and falling behind. "Damn you!" Aemond shouts as he breaks free of the branches and finds himself standing in a clearing with no sign of the little Lamb in sight. Where the hell did she go? Damn this forest. Damn her.

He inelegantly shoves his sword back into its casing, taking a last long look around the scenery before begrudgingly turning around to make his way back to the city.

The rest of his day is plagued by thoughts about her, remembering every single detail about his encounter with this strange, wild little Lamb. She lives in the woods all alone, with no one to care for her? Surely, he thinks to himself, no one would truly want to do that.

She did seem awfully skilled at maneuvering the trees and avoiding my chase. Could she truly be completely alone? He wonders, staring into the lit fireplace of his chambers, his finger mindlessly tapping along the rim of the almost drained cup in his hand. His interest in the little lamb was definitely piqued. He would venture out into the woods to find her again once his duties allowed him to.

time skip / two weeks have passed

Things went back to normal after the encounter with the stranger, you didn’t see him again, but you did make sure to be extra cautious about your surroundings at all times, avoiding all travelers for the time being.

You’re sitting on a boulder in the river, only your ankles in the water as you sharpen your axe using whet stones from the river while waiting for the fish you caught this morning to finish smoking. You’re deep in thoughts as when you notice an unusual rustling of leaves behind you and catch a glimpse of the familiar silver head through the trees.

Here we go again.

The silver haired man had been stalking the Kingswood once again as he had done for several days since he encountered the strange little Lamb the first time. Searching for any hints as to where she lived, so that he could go back and speak with her again.

His hope was running low when then he finally saw her again, sitting in the river, tending to her tools. His heart skipped multiple beats, he couldn’t quite explain why he felt like this.

Still, she is the only one this far into the woods. No one around to protect her, just like when he had met her last time. This woman was a mystery he was most eager to solve. He slowly and deliberately stalked over to her, taking great care to be as sneaky and quiet as possible.

Even though you had noticed him immediately you keep focusing on your tool, pretending you hadn't noticed him as he approaches, hiding behind the last tree that provides him with cover before he would have to step out into the open.

"What is it you want?" You ask after a while, your voice loud and clear while your eyes are still focused on the task at hand. His attempts to remain hidden are more amusing than anything else.

The man was startled but quickly covers his reaction with his typical demeanor, standing proud with his hands behind his back as he steps out of the tree line and approaches the mysterious beauty carefully, as if trying not to startle her. She had quite a sharp ear. Although, he should have known better. If this little lamb had survived by herself in the woods, hearing the noises of the trees and animals was a skill she must have honed greatly.

Once he’s only a few feet away he stops abruptly, contemplating his choice of words before he speaks in a friendly yet stern manner. "You are quite perceptive little Lamb."

He remains quiet for a while. You’re still focused on your tool, not looking up, as you probe him further. "Speak. I know you've been following me for a while."

“I was simply fascinated with your lifestyle after our last encounter, that is all." He comes a few steps closer, enough to look at her properly, but not so close as to make himself a threat. "Why do you live out here, by yourself? Away from civilization and society?"

"Because I wish to do so." You say, now leaning forward to wash off the freshly sharpened axe in the river water.

"But is there no other reason little Lamb? You do not get... lonely? You do not yearn for society or friends? This forest is cold, dark, and dangerous." The mans voice seems filled with what seems like genuine concern for your welfare.

"The forests seem like that only to those who aren't welcome in them." You say, now looking up at him for the first time this conversation. "What do I get out of sharing my life story with you?"

Aemond's eyebrow quirked slightly at your words. Your words were not aggressive but they were not exactly kind or welcoming either. „You get to answer your crown prince a few questions that have been gnawing on his mind for a while. Who could say it wouldn’t be worth it?”

“I could say. The less people know about me, the better. Easier to stay hidden that way.”

Aemond stays silent after she says that, thinking over her words in his head. Stay hidden from what? From whom? What could make her feel that she must remain hidden... "Tell me, my little Lamb. Who are you hiding from?" Perhaps after finding out that one thing, he can put this obsession to rest.

"Men like you." You answer, now shifting your attention back to your tools, reaching back into the river to fetch out another whet stone to sharpen a big knife now.

"Men like me?" His eye narrows. " I am no threat to you. What could possibly have led you to believe that? You are alone so deep in the woods and I have not shown you any hostility... yet."

"No hostility?" You say laughing. "Chasing me with your sword was what then? A local friendship ritual I’m not familiar with?"

"Oh, I was simply trying to get you to stop and talk to me. That is all." He says, a small smile gracing his lips at her words. He found her laughter quite endearing.

“Didn’t work very well now, did it?”

"No I suppose not," His smile grows slightly, he finds this strange little Lamb's demeanor quite intriguing. He was never great at interacting with women, but this one seemed comfortable in his company, at least somewhat. Even if she was also incredibly untrusting and suspicious of him, or of men in general. He looks at her intently, savouring her smile as he knows his next words will wipe it right off her face again.

“I want to know more about you. I will not leave until you tell me more.” He says and as predicted, her cheeky smile gets replaced with a frown again.

“I told you, I won’t-“ he interrupts her quickly, almost pleading with her, “I know, I know. But I need to know. I cannot rest at night. I will not tell anyone about you. Whatever you tell me, it will not have any consequences, I swear it.”

You sigh deeply, pondering his words. You couldn’t care less for telling your story, the possibility of sharing too much lingering in the back of your mind. Then again, perhaps this is just what you needed. Sharing a bit of your true self with someone after having to carefully craft a fake persona and uphold it for the past two years. “Fine then. What is it you want to know?”

His eyes light up at that statement as he takes his time deciding which one of his many questions he should ask first. “Your accent, it seems out of place. Are you not from here?”

You immedily begin to regret your decision to talk to him, struggling to find a way to phrase the truth in a way it doesn’t sound too outlandish. “No, I am not. I come from a land far away, you wouldn’t know it.”

“Did you come alone?”

“Sort of. I came here with others but they… forgot me. Or maybe they are just unable to return. I wouldn’t know.”  You say, looking out into the flowing river as you remember.

“Forgot you? Why would your family just forget you?”

“They weren’t my family. They were… people I knew. We went here and they left, never to return, at least not until today. They probably told my family I died.” What had they told your family? You often wondered it. The changes of the seasons and moons made it easy for you to tell how much time had passed here, in this world. Did as much time pass back home? Was your family even informed of what truly happened or were they waiting back home for a sign of life that would never come, with no way of knowing your fate?

Aemond is quiet for a while, processing this information. “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve been here two winters already, the coming one will be my third.”

“THAT long?” He blurts out, mind racing. “You have survived here alone all this time, out in this forest, with no family or friends? How?”

A slight smile tugs at the corner of your lips, amused by his disbelief. “Yes, I have. I’m friendly with some of the farmers around here and some merchants. I was fortunate, really, that I was stranded here with a few tools and a bit of money.”

“That could not have been enough to make you survive here. The winters can be hard, as can be nature itself. I don’t know a single woman that would be able to survive like this even with all the tools in the world.”

“I suppose you’re right.” You shrug. This is your normal, all you knew for most of your life, you often forget just how unusual it really is. “I come from a family of farmers. We lived far out, away from civilization, and I learned a lot about nature that way. I am, or was, my parents only child. I spend many years of my childhood in the forest with my dad. He was an avid fisher and knew all the ways around the forest, while my mom taught me all about her knowledge of herbs. She was a healer of sorts.” 

Your smile returns as she recalls all her fond memories of home. Oh, how you wished you’d never left the farm. “They bred, trained, and sold horses too. I was strapped to a saddle on my own horse before I could even walk.”

His face shifts from one of shock to one of sympathy. He could tell by your words and the tone your voice takes that you missed home dearly. “And you have no way back?”

“No.” You state plainly. Do you? Truthfully, you do not know, but you surely hope you do.

“Why? If I give you coin for passage, can you go back home?”

“I’m afraid its not that easy.” You huff, struggling to make up an answer to this question. “Unless they come get me, I have no way back. I… I’m done talking about this.” You say, now shaking your head.

He wants to press further but understands he shouldn’t, not if he’d like to keep you talking. “Well then… What are you planning to do here then? You can’t just stay out here forever.”

“Why not?” You conter. “I’ve gotten comfortable out here. I know my way around the woods and can survive quite well out here. I’ve come to appreciate my little life out here quite a lot, actually.”

“Is this really life or is this survival? What about finding a family of your own, what about children?”

You sigh deeply. “I may not have answers to all those questions yet, but I do now I’m content here for now. I have no duties here, no bills to worry about. I just need to figure out my next meal and get to enjoy nature the rest of the time with all the peace and quiet it offers me.”

The change of topic strikes a chord in you, one you didn’t realise was as sensitive as it seems to be. The prospect of having to live out the rest of your days in this time is one that seemed more and more realistic and the question of what you would actually do for the next twenty, forty, sixty years of your life was one burning in the back of your mind more and more frequently.

“I’m done talking for today. You may leave now.” You dismissed the prince, frustration growing inside you.

He is not happy about this, his expression shows this as much as the tone of his voice. “Leave? I just arrived. You can’t just send me away.”

“I do not wish to tell any more stories.” You state. Just as he begins to talk again you turn to face him quickly, looking at him for a few seconds before proposing a compromise. Maybe you just needed some time to gather your thoughts and calm the inner turmoil you can feel bubbling deep inside your chest right now. “How about this: If you can find me again, I will answer you more questions. Anything you want.”

His jaw clenches as he lets out a long sigh. This is not how he wanted this conversation to end but he could tell from her expression that she seemed exhausted and the prospect of getting to ask anything he wanted seemed tempting enough to agree. “Fine then. I will seek you out again soon, but I will not rest until I have all my answers. You must swear you will not avoid me again.”

“I swear it.” You answer, a reassuring smile on your lips. “Have a safe travel back, my prince.”

She had been speaking so freely all this time that hearing her address him properly caught him off guard for a moment. He stands still in place, watching her a bit longer, before begrudgingly turning around to leave after bidding a small goodbye.

As he walks away you turn around slightly, watching the swaying of his silver hair until it disappears completely between the trees. A long, deep sigh escapes your lips as you resume your tasks for the day, thinking about all the questions he asked and what you really wanted from your life now.

You were honest, you did love your life as it was now, but sometimes the solitude did get to you as well. A craving for the love and closeness your family had brought you. As much as you cursed the prince when you had first met him, maybe having his attention on you could be a good thing after all.

He thought his mind would be calmed after speaking to her but to his dismay, the opposite had happened. His head is filled with questions still and worse so, genuine worry about her wellbeing. Yes, his little lamb had survived well by herself, but the confirmation that she was truly alone out there was deeply unsettling to him. When he is laying in bed that night, he realised just how little he knew about her. He didn’t know where she lived – did she have a house or did she sleep under the stars? He had never even asked her name. What would it be? If she is from far away, it surely was exotic.

He keeps tossing and turning that night, the picture of her smiling face filling his mind, even more so when he closes his eye, as if he can see even clearer when the world isn’t distracting him. He tries to sleep but he swears he hears her laugh, still as clear and comforting as it had been when he heard it the first time. A sound so sweet it could lull him to sleep, if only there wasn’t the gaping emptiness next to him, reminding him of your absence, of the fact you’re all alone out there. If something happened to you tonight, would he ever find out? He could not bear the thought of it.

His night stays restless. He falls asleep again and again, dreaming vividly about the way your cheeks rounded when you smiled at him, about the freckles on your nose, the small dimples that appeared under your cheeks when you smiled and over your lips when you pursed your lips in dismay at another thing he said.

It was improper, he knew that much. For a prince, the heir to the throne, to be so enchanted by a forest dweller. Nevertheless, his heart skipped a beat every time he had laid his eyes on her. His mind went back to think about all your interactions at every chance it got, even in the midst of important meetings. He was a devoted and proper man; he knew better and yet, something about her felt so fundamentally right that a future without her seemed wrong.

When the first rays of sunshine broke though his windows he had made his decision. He would go to see her again and this time, he would not leave her behind. He could not. He will find her and bring her – well, where? Somewhere, anywhere he knows she is safe, where he knows he can find her whenever he wants to see her. He will figure it all out, he will find a way to make this work.

His feet soon carry him through the castle, unaware of where he is going until he finds himself in front of two wooden doors. The kings, his brothers, chambers.

Currently editing the next part, that one will be 18+! Second series about Aemond x reader coming soon as well (currently proof reading chapter one)!

[mybeingthere]

Australian artist Marina Strocchi (website marinastrocchi.com). Janet McKenzie writes about her in the Studio International (2022):

"Strocchi was born in Melbourne in 1961 to an Italian father and a third-generation mother of British and German descent. Originating from the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy, her father, Giacomo Strocchi, was passionate about politics and was also a key figure in the Brooks Crescent protests that sought to stop plans to demolish period houses in Melbourne and replace them with high-rise public housing. He fought with the Italian partisans during the war and was decorated for bravery, but the war took its toll, and as with many refugees and migrants to Australia, the trauma was played out in family life and was witnessed by his children.

...............................

By the 1950s and 60s, the children of politicised Australians, and those of traumatised refugees and migrants experienced relative prosperity, but they were also sensitive to the complexity of their inheritance. The impact of this generation is inestimable and is responsible for many of the most important cultural and intellectual developments and stellar achievements in the art world in Australia since. Strocchi’s independent path as an artist and the first art coordinator of the Ikuntji Art Centre at Haasts Bluff (1992-1997) was necessarily born of a plethora of complex factors. Her father’s larger than life presence impacted her emotional development and his politically charged behaviour meant she could not turn her back on society’s ills. Her mother, Nona May’s example, and creative attitude within their home life showed a creative means of building a fulfilling, resilient life.

Strocchi’s dedication to the arts as a tool for the betterment of humanity shares Counihan’s politically charged example, although hers was intuitively sought. From 1984 to 1987, while in her early 20s, she travelled extensively, to Europe where she visited museums, churches and galleries and explored family roots (Italy, France, Spain, England) and to the US and Mexico. Back in Australia and with a growing awareness of how art could be a force for good, and possessing both empathy and curiosity, she was persuaded by friends to visit Central Australia. The inspiring achievements of the Papunya Tula Artists’ Company, established in 1972, and other projects that were developing, particularly those for women, led to her decades-long commitment towards empowering the lives of First Nations people through art. She is quick to point out that her motives were not intentional: “It’s only looking back that one could say this – I did come up against naysayers – people who wanted to see failure and restrict painting to men, but I listened to the First Nations people and was supported by Wayne Eager, who had experience from Roar Studios and growing up with parents who were artists.”

https://www.studiointernational.com/.../marina-strocchi...#

[jollmaster]

What were the V's mortal life like?

finally I gathered all main thoughts about them 🖤 they're all jerks and their lives weren't easy

Vox

• born in 1900 to a family of dockworkers, was the first in his family to be born in California, so-called nisei; his parents were pure-blooded japanese who moved to the USA in search of a better life; their lineage had been christian since the Edo period, despite persecution

• spent youth in Nihonmachi (San Francisco's japantown), almost from the day it was founded

• worked with machinery and electricity and was very successful, but at the same time liked to walk in the harbor watching fish being caught (he loved the pungent smell of fish)

• spoke fluent Japanese and English, used the name Cole in english-speaking society, but anyway experienced racist prejudice against himself; future-Vox real name was Koi (carp in japanese)

• after 1924, he often helped compatriots with american citizenship and practically saw the birth of television broadcasting

• by the time of WWII he already had a wife and two children; their third son was born two months before Executive Order 9066

• in 1942 family was interned and he spent two and a half years in "relocation center", while the eldest of sons was shot on suspicion of espionage

• it was then that future-Vox lost trust in any government and decided that he would gather people around by himself (he would later advocate with all his might to minimize the contact of sinners with demons and establish himself in a separate region, spreading technology and broadcasting, and would choose the name Vox, or voice)

• all these anxieties, as well as workaholism, took a heavy toll on health, and he died of a heart attack in early 1950s

Valentino

• son of a prostitute (had no idea who his father was) and inherited her beauty

• had the same name in life as when he died

• born in a Montevideo brothel in the mid XIXth century; grew up in an unhealthy situation and even saw mother working

• later his mother became a brothel owner herself, and a rather harsh one at that; her upbringing laid the foundation for Valentino's crooked understanding of the world and hierarchy

• when he was about twelve years old and was already helping in management (counting money, carrying wine from the pantry, sweeping, all that), one of the customers wanted to take him to the room, but mother heard this and made a scandal, and son wasn't touched

• unfortunately or fortunately for himself, Valentino had learned that weakness means death, and the law of force is the main thing in the world

• was quite smart in business, ran a brothel when his mother was gone (she died, ironic as it may sound, of a cold fever), and prostitutes both respected him and were very afraid of

• Valentino treated women in a purely consumer way, he was generally the kind of master who yells and then can both caress and physically use

• however, he once paid for the funeral of one of workers when she bleeded and died after abortion, and even was near her in last hour; there were rumors that this child was his too

• his response to all questions was "how damn should I know who knocked her up"

• died in a fire; one of the workers, young Theresa, locked him in, he didn't get out in time and burned alive

Velvette

• Velvette is her stage name; real name was Violet, because of unusual eye color at birth

• was born in 1960s, inherited violet eyes from father: her mother was a somali who fled the country in search of a better life, and father was a white walloon (she spoke Somaligaa with mom and French with dad)

• parents divorced when Vel was a teenager but kept a good relationship

• went to France when she grew up and planned a career as a fashion designer

• to some extent it was her eyes that got her noticed by photographers and she later had a career as a model, although she didn't fit standards for height (too short) and skin color (too dark-skinned)

• she had a hard enough time, but she had a tough character and didn't hesitate to make way by any means necessary

• however, Vel never agreed to sleep with anyone in exchange for preferential treatment: no, she's an independent woman and she'll only sleep with someone who deserves it

• planned to earn enough money, leave modeling, go back to what she had wanted, marry a nice wealthy gentleman and have a son; not that she really wanted to have a baby, this just seemed normal to her

• Vel wouldn't have been very caring soft mother, but she would have tried to provide for child, hired a good nanny and been present in his life

• at the age of twenty-five she hit a girl with a car, but bought off the court

• the girl's father couldn't relive loss and bribed one of Vel's detractors to shoot her dead

[lorei-writes]

HC: Awfully Similar

Chevalier, Clavis, Leon, Jin, Silvio ~1k words Premise: Little (awful) ways in which his child is (awfully) similar to him.

Chevalier

His daughter does not reply to questions when the answer is positive. Additionally, ever since she has learnt to speak in full sentences, she took a liking to the words "indeed" and "drivel".

"Say 'aaah'."

"Drivel, papa."

"Your throat is sore. You have to drink your syrup."

"Indeed. Still, drivel, papa."

His son is dreadfully difficult in the mornings. It's so bad that only Chevalier is (generally) able to wake him up. (That being said, waking Chevalier up is still a herculean task, the difficulty level of which has only been increasing with each child. Uncle Clavis is devastated whenever he has to look after his nephews and nieces... or makes the mistake of scheduling anything before noon.)

None of them like breakfasts -- the only way to get them to eat it is having either of their parents to prepare it. No matter how hard Chevalier tries, they declare to like their mother's cooking better... possibly to mess with him a little bit. (Chevalier? Jealous? Over such trivial matter? What drivel.)

His youngest son has inherited his intimidating aura. Overall, he looks just like Chevalier when he was little. However, much like Clavis, he's also a ball of chaotic laughter. The juxtaposition gives his uncles whiplash every single time.

Clavis

His son is awfully dramatic.

"Father! Guard! I am being taken from this world, the dawn lights shall welcome me no more!" <- he has fallen and scratched his knee while on a walk with Cyran

"Mother loves me not, papa."

"Oh? Why should you say that?"

"Why? Isn't it obvious? She's cooked me brussels sprouts."

His son is also vert studious when it comes to learning. His primary interests lie in physics and... literature, which explains some of his peculiar claims. (Luckily, Clavis knows how to manage a library.)

Clavis' younger son enjoys pranks and experiments, or better yet, doing both at once. Especially if the target is to be his sister (the youngest sibling). He's also taken to picking locks -- preparing ones he cannot open is something of an evolutionary race between him and his father. Ah, those alluring cabinets with chemical reagents! (Clavis has taught him how to pick locks. He caused this.)

That being said, the little lady of the bunch has a frightful foresight (much like her uncle). The pranks never succeed. (Were she not a near-perfect copy of Clavis appearance-wise, they'd likely wonder whether she was truly his daughter.)

Leon

All of his children. All of them. Sneak. Out. And to make matters worse? They split up, so if Leon wants them back at the palace, he needs to independently track down at least three people (the youngest ones usually do not leave their older siblings). Sometimes they also bring friends along! (Clavis' children are the friends.)

Another growing issue-non-issues is that they have made friends in town and now sneak them into the palace. Which, admittedly, is not something Leon is particularly bothered by (assuming he is distracted from the very real possibility of his children being kidnapped, as now everybody knows they are royalty -- nickname change from "Black" to "White" may occur in the next few years). However, the same cannot be said about the visiting nobles.

No matter how much food there was to begin with, none is ever left on the table. His son's have... healthy... appetites.

Both of his daughters are avid readers. However, they tend to get tired easily when reading... so they alternate. They usually pick a book together and read it aloud. (2 pages - change of the reader - 2 pages - change - ... )

Jin

Jin has two children, a daughter and a son. His daughter is an effortless charmer -- pretty like a doll, with infectious laughter and jokes that somehow caught on even when all she could say was "gugu gaga". (...At least Jin laughed?) Meanwhile, his son gets into situations. Shirtless.

That being said, it isn't necessarily wrong for his son to get involved. After all, he always does it to protect one of his cousins or his sister (...or to cover for them, but well, solidarity is appreciated). But why shirtless?

They both fight over lollipops. All. The. Time. And when they don't fight over them, they cry due to having none. They are not going to have unlimited teeth in their life! Good dental habits need to be established early on! (Jin also cries in lollipop rehab. Solidarity!)

Jin may have only two children, but their little family also includes four dogs. His children have an interesting affinity towards finding animals in need of help, both wild and domesticated. (You could say that Jin got roped into running the first -- unofficial -- animal shelter & rescue in the entirety of Rhodolite. He's managed to rehome the majority of the animals brought in... save for those four dogs. He just couldn't say "no" after his children nursed them back to health. He was and still is proud of them for doing that.)

Silvio

His daughter (3 years old) tries to open everything with a kick first. And by everything I mean everything -- a book? Kick! Doll house? Kick! Cabinet door? Kick! Balcony door? First she walks into it and then she kicks.

Silvio's at a loss there. He can't exactly have her wear steal cap boots. (Or... can he?)

To make matters worse, Silvio has made the mistake of taking his older daughter to the docks. She was interested in ships and his work! He wanted to show her! He really had good intentions!

And now she curses like a six years old sailor. Which is to say, poorly and fairly inaccurately, but in large quantities. And she sure is teaching this to her younger sister.

Their favourite game to play is called "Jingle-Jangle", which is a cute term for breaking into their father's closet and turning themselves into an ornate human orchestra. They put on all of Silvio's jewellery and then run through the palace, every so often losing a ring or a necklace, or perhaps both. It creates a convenient trail for Carlo (or Silvio, or Emma -- whoever is first at the scene) to follow... Provided that nobody takes it first. ("Ha?! Papa is so rich he could buy you anything!" were Silvio's famous last words.)

You've seen a typo? Let me know!

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86 @rinaririr @keithsandwich @cheese-ception @bis-enti @claviscollections @queengiuliettafirstlady @sh0jun @leonscape

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

[fayes-fics]

Moments: Like Father, Like Son

Moments Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader

Summary: One-shot set in the Moments universe. Thomas inherits a rather embarrassing trait from his father...

Artwork credit: @margowritesthings 

Warnings: none... this is pure fluff and humour.

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: It's been AGES since I did anything in the Moments verse. This idea has been kicking around in my drafts for six months, maybe more. Thanks to @chaoticcalzoneranchsports, who came up with this idea with me all that time ago. This is very silly, light-hearted family nonsense. Enjoy! <3

“What the…?”  Benedict’s voice fades out, standing by the window.

“What is it, my love?” you ask mildly, taking a bite of toast as you read the newspaper.

“Thomas… he is running full pelt down the lawn… absolutely nude,” he answers, perplexed, “.... and there goes Abigail…” he adds, referring to your nanny, “she can barely keep up, poor thing.”

Wiping the toast crumbs from your fingers onto a serviette, you get up, walk over to join your husband at the window, and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand as you observe the tableau before you.

Out in the early morning sun is your youngest child, now four, running circles around his nanny, giggling loudly. As naked as the day he was born.

“You know you could go help her. Round up your son?” you twist your mouth into a bemused pout and look up at him, bumping him gently with your shoulder.

“She seems to have it in hand,” he responds as you both watch her change direction and fool Thomas, catching him and picking him up to bring him back indoors. “I do hope this doesn't become a habit,” Benedict comments airily as you retake your seats at the breakfast table.

“What makes you think it would?” you frown.

“No reason…” he responds, a little too hasty. 

Something in his tone makes you think there may be more to that story.

_____

“Mummy, Thomas has taken all his clothes off again.”

“Amelia, what are you talking about? And what do you mean by ‘again’?” you question your daughter as she throws herself into the chair next to yours on the terrace outside your home.

“He is always doing it, Mummy. Last week he lost a game of tag and took off his clothes in protest. Nanny Abigail had to give him bonbons to put them on again before you and Daddy got back from your walk,” she breezes, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Hmm, I never heard about that.”

“Well, now he’s done it again,” Amelia rolls her eyes.

“Where is he?” you ask.

“He's down by the fish pond. He's upset about something,” she shrugs.

“And his answer was to take his clothes off?” you check.

“Apparently,” she says dryly, with an almost world-weary expression of someone who has seen such a thing far too many times.

“Let's go find out what is going on, shall we?” you offer your hand to your daughter and round the garden to the pond where sure enough, your son is naked—and looks absolutely furious.

“Thomas,” you call gently, “what on earth is the matter, my love? And why are you without your clothes?”

“Frogs.” He opines—as if that one word explains everything.

“Explain to me, please, and put your clothes back on.”

“Do not want to,” he pouts.

“That was not a suggestion, Thomas,” you warn firmly and raise an eyebrow. All your children know better than to argue when you use that tone. 

Thomas stomps back to the pile of clothes and starts to redress with tantrum-like dramatic flair, and again, you have to stifle your giggles about his antics behind your hand.

“Now come here, my love,” you kneel now he is back in his shirt and trousers, holding your hands out wide for a hug, “and tell me what the problem is.”

“The tadpoles are not frogs yet, and Daddy said they would be soon. I want to see frogs Mummy,” he huffs into your shoulder as he accepts your embrace.

“Of course, Thomas. As soon as they are frogs, Daddy will show you. But why did you take off your clothes?”

He just shrugs as if even he doesn’t know why.

“Next time, rather than take off your clothes, please find me or Daddy, and we can talk about whatever is upsetting you,” you soothe.

“Alright,” he grumbles mutely.

_____

Later that night, as you lie in bed, you raise it with your husband.

“Thomas took off his clothes again,” you comment casually.

“Why?” Benedict puts down his book and frowns deeply as if he appears very troubled by the idea.

“He was upset about the tadpoles not being frogs,” you sigh, nonplussed.

“And his answer was to remove his clothes?”

“Yes.”

“What did you tell him?”

“To come and speak to you or me before taking off his clothes next time.”

“Let's hope that works,” Benedict hums thoughtfully. Again you get the sneaking suspicion there is something he is not telling you.

_____

You are hosting a party the following week with all the Bridgerton clan visiting your cottage when it happens again. The dinner table chat is lively and convivial as dessert is served. Suddenly the door swings open, and in runs your youngest son.

“Mummy, where is MooMoo?” Thomas calls loudly, asking about his favourite cow toy.

Everyone stops talking, their attention drawn to your child, completely unphased by his audience as he stands there. Once again, completely naked. 

Hyacinth snorts so loudly that apple juice shoots out of her nose just as Benedict slumps his head into his hands, mortified. As you go to stand and move him, Abigail bursts through the doorway, out of breath.

“My sincerest apologies, my lady,” she puffs, “he managed to unlock the nursery door somehow,” she adds very contritely, curtseying and picking Thomas up, bundling him out of the room before you can reply.

“Apologies for the interruption, everyone,” you call a vaguely embarrassed smile painted on your face as you gesture for them to continue talking as they were before. 

Conversation restarts, but as you take your seat at the far end from Benedict, you notice that Violet sitting next to you is trying valiantly but failing to control a bout of silent giggles. When she sees you looking at her, she attempts to school her expression and calm herself to speak.

“Oh my. I was wondering if this would ever come to haunt my darling son,” she stutters between laughs.

“What do you mean?” You ask, genuinely baffled.

She clutches her sides and dabs her eye. “Your husband was quite the nudist himself as a child,” she says drolly. “He would embarrass Edmund and me by bursting into soirées completely without his clothes. And he was so fast no one could ever catch him, the little scamp.”

Your eyes drift to Benedict at the head of the table, who looks deep in conversation with his eldest brothers, almost like he knows what his mother is saying and wants to look very much otherwise occupied to avoid the topic.

“I KNEW IT!” you exclaim quietly. “He keeps saying things like ‘Oh, I hope this doesn’t become a habit’... I just knew there was something he was not telling me,” you shake your head as Violet continues giggling in sympathy. “How on earth did you get him to stop?!” You quiz with a touch of desperation.

“He grew out of it,” she shrugs, reaching over to pat your hand, “I'm certain Thomas will too.”

“And in the meantime, I just need to accept this will happen?!” you decry.

“Or a stronger lock on the nursery door,” Violet suggests, giggling louder.

Just then, Benedict glances down the length of the table to you; you shoot him a look of daggers that makes his brow knit in confusion.

_____

“What was that look for?” Benedict asks as you guide your guests into the parlour after dinner.

“Thomas. It's all your fault, this nudity thing,” you scowl.

He has the decency to look contrite. “Mother said something?” he guesses, looking sheepish, folding his lips under his teeth and averting his eyes. 

“Yes, she did,” you volley, “why did you not inform me?”

“I did not think such things would be inherited!” he argues defensively.

“Well, I need you to think back. What would have stopped you from doing this when you were a child? Your mother seems to be under the impression nothing can be done. That we should merely wait for him to grow out of such behaviour….”

“I… was three… I honestly cannot recall,” he confesses.

You sigh. “Fine, but next time this happens? It is all upon you, husband.” You raise an eyebrow indicating the finality of your opinion on this topic.

“Understood.” he nods, chastened.

_____

The following day you are all gathered around the lake, having a relaxed afternoon watching the children all playing together spiritedly - Simon and Daphne’s, Kate and Anthony's, as well as your own.

Isobel and Amelia tag out of the games and come to sit with you under a parasol with Violet.

“Hello, darlings,” you kiss them both on the head as they snuggle against you, panting a little from their gameplaying, reaching gratefully for the glasses of water laid out for them on the little table behind.

“Mummy,” Amelia begins, “why did Daddy just give Thomas bonbons and tell him he can have more if he keeps his clothes on?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can already see Violet shaking with laughter behind the back of her hand.

“He did what?!” you cannot prevent your outburst.

“It is bribery, Amelia,” Isobel pipes up, ever your family’s straight-talking lawyer.

“If I take off my clothes, do I get more bonbons, Mummy?” she asks, twisting to look up at you with fluttering eyelids.

“Most certainly not!” you scoff. “Girls, please remain with your grandmother here,” you add, brushing your dress and going to stand up.

“BENEDICT BRIDGERTON!!!” you yell sternly, striding purposefully towards him, your irritation barely contained. 

As you walk through the assembled family, they all move aside, smirking, already knowing what is about to happen. If there is one thing the Brigerton men are known for, it's their spirited wives.

“Now, ladies,” Violet leans in to whisper with her granddaughters, “pay great heed to your mother. If there is one thing that a man must know, it's when he has done something unacceptable to his wife.”

“Daddy said he likes it when Mummy tells him off,” Amelia answers, between gulps of water, watching you remonstrate with Benedict as he looks suitably chastised.

“When did he say that?” Violet inquiries intrigued.

“I heard him say it once when they were in bed and wrestling noisily,” Amelia sighs, matter-of-fact.

Violet turns bright red and almost chokes on her tea.

“I had left the nursery to ask for biscuits when Nanny Abigail was sleeping, but they didn't hear me, so I just went and got some from the kitchen myself,” Amelia continues, finishing her story with a shrug.

“The lock on the nursery is broken, by the way, grandmama,” Isobel adds, as if sensing this is the right time to announce such a thing.

Just then, Thomas wanders over, fully clothed for once. “Grandmama, more bonbons, please?” he grins toothily, nodding to the glass jar next to her, his eyes so hopeful.

Some family moments are very entertaining indeed.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover@corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit

[tobiasdrake]

So, who is the best mom in Dragonball?

Let's see....

Chi-Chi gets a lot of crap from the fandom for being a tiger mom. Some of that is exacerbated by the anime which broke ranks with the manga because they wanted to keep doing tiger mom bits after the point when she canonically cooled her jets. The anime really liked Chi-Chi as a gag and doesn't like to let gags go.

I cannot hold it against her that she wanted to keep her son from growing into a deadbeat hyperfixated hobbyist who coasts on his wife's inheritance like her husband. She wanted Gohan to excel academically and grow up to be a responsible, emotionally mature adult with a stable career. That's what most parents want for their kids.

And it's what Gohan wanted for himself too. Even Goku recognizes that.

But I will ding her for the "delinquent" thing. She is vocally unsupportive of her children connecting with the other side of their heritage, and that's a black mark.

Additionally, the way she chills out and is more relaxed with Goten implies a bit of favoritism. Like many parents, her firstborn is her golden child, her heir, the successor of the family name... and the other kids can go do whatever; It doesn't really matter as long as she's got her successful pride and joy.

Bulma demonstrates a surprisingly personal touch for a woman of her status. She remains glued to the infant Trunks throughout the entire Cell arc despite having enough wealth, technology, and genius acumen that she could easily hire or build someone else to look after him.

It's clear that Bulma cares a lot about her son.

Her main black mark as a parent is the way she exposes her child to Vegeta. Future Bulma sends Trunks back with little warning or preparation for meeting the absolute monster that his father is, and this is in a timeline where she's never known a Vegeta who chilled out and learned to love his family.

Present Bulma does Future Bulma one better and invites the physically abusive and emotionally neglectful Vegeta to live with her and be in constant direct contact with Trunks, while he grows bitter and resentful of them for making him soft.

And then, after he throws a violent tantrum and kills a bunch of people over that resentment, accepts him right back into her son's life with open arms. What the fuck, Bulma.

Porunga may have vouched for him but I'd nonetheless be wary about ever letting this man near my child again. He murdered half a stadium because he was mad that he loved his family. Nope nope nope.

Videl got hit with a ricochet when Super Hero came for Gohan's parenting. They're both workaholics too busy for their kid, which is what drives the plot of that film. As with Gohan, this is relatively tame, but worth noting.

18 seems pretty cool. She blackmailed a celebrity for money and got her daughter away from local sex pest the Muten-Roshi. Good for her. I think the Dragon World's Best Mom coffee mug might be in her possession?

[tenko-thinks]

Douma with a pregnant gn s/o + fathering twins headcanons

requested by @alastor-96

Cw : pregnancy, douma is how you say; horny? , childbirth/labor (non descript), fuck it douma experiences feelings

Douma is a rather enigmatic person, and as demons aren't known for siring children with humans. I'd say he'd think the same about you.

When you come to him to tell him of the news he's quite genuinely surprised. It takes quite a bit to shock him, but this would do the trick.

He initially believes it to be a joke, all smiles and laughs while he claps his hands. Saying it's quite mean of you to tease him like that.

But when you insist it to be true and that no one else could be the father.. Well.. he's quite torn.

On the one hand, what is a demon and human child like? On the other.. should he kill you? If nothing else than to protect you from Muzan and the harsh reality of what being his is?

His curiosity would likely get the better of him. It's not like you could leave him anyways! After all, you're his now that you're with his child! Forever! He made his claim, didn't he?

Douma is actually rather knowledgeable in the field of pregnancy. After all, many in eternal paradise are women. And he has seen several in his years come to him while with child. In various stages and with various outcomes. He's intimately aware of how fragile a pregnancy is.

He will pretend that it does not frighten him. The idea of losing something he had never even prepared to have. But wanting it all the same.

Either way, he's doting and kind toward the bearer of his child. He picks up on all of your moods within a moment. Cravings? Ask and he shall provide.

He is also keenly aware of how pregnancy affects the one carrying... when Hormones flare he can't deny the charm of exploring your changing body. He wants to debauch you in any form you change into, after all. Perhaps it's just his demonic nature.

A magician with pain. His hands are cold to the touch, and with deft fingers he can effectively apply cryotheraputic massages to ease aches and swelling in record time. After all, he does hate to see you crying in a manner he did not cause.

Midwives galore when you fall into labor. Douma will shirk any cult responsibilities in favor of being there for the birthing of his child. Beyond excited to meet what he had created with such an interesting being as you.

When he hears the sounds of crying and the bones of his hand rearranging themselves from your crushing grip he relaxes and lets out a breath he had no idea he had been holding.

Except... Why is the doctor back and why are you grabbing his hand agai- Oh. Oh dear.

The cursing him out was fair at that point. The way you had struggled to push two fairly weighty children out of your body was plenty reason for him to not complain or whine.

Yet he can't help the grin that spreads across his face when there are two newborns placed upon your chest. Both with his pale complexion. Silently he wondered who's eyes they would inherit.

That would be answered soon enough when he is the proud father of two rainbow eyed girls. "Touched by the same gods as their father" or something along those lines. One sporting a full head of blonde and the other sporting a similar color , with your own fading into the ends of her hair.

Gorgeous, he had decided. Absolutely gorgeous.

Really, they took after him quite a bit. Both being carefree just like their father. And he dotes on them almost constantly. He could forget the world when his daughters are jumping and climbing on him like a jungle gym.

The only thing that pulls him back into reality is you. And the grim reminder of what may occur if the children bare an immunity to the sun. He fears what may happen if Muzan were to learn.

And so he does his best to hide it. Wipes his memory whenever the demon king rarely tries to peak in. See if he has done anything.

He's decided rather pointedly that he would rather kill him than allow him to take the two things that had made him feel Human again.

[elen-aranel]

Dearest darling Elen, when last was it that I bothered you with the idea of Regency!Pike?

Old friend of the family, Captain Pike, who was your brother's commanding officer on the good ship Enterprise, and who was invited to winter at your parent's house?

Who agrees to chaperone you and one of your suitors in the parlor, whom he finds most unimpressive

Who encouragingly offers, "He's kind," When your suitor leaves, and guffaws when you counter: "He's an idiot."

Dany my love I am sorry to take so long to reply to this ask but I have been rotating this idea in my mind, considering it, researching it, enjoying it

“An idiot? That may be, but he’s an idiot with a large estate, and important friends.” The captain shrugs. “He might be Sir Idiot before all is said and done.”

“And am I to be Lady Idiot?” You rise, feeling as though the walls of the drawing room are drawing closer. Feeling the need to move. “I’ve never aspired to jewels and pin-money. A clergyman like my father would have at least been to Oxford. Or someone like—”

You bite your tongue.

You were about to say someone like you.

But Captain Pike… whose company is so entertaining, whose contributions to conversation can be so stimulating… who is so handsome — far better looking than the idiot, or any of the small number of other men who have paid attention to you — has shown you no particular partiality. He is simply a friend.

“Someone like…? Is there another gentleman whose attentions you would prefer to entertain? Perhaps you would like me to accompany you on a walk next time?”

“Oh, no.” You can see you have piqued his curiosity, but you move to stifle it. You shake your head, meet his eyes and put sincerity into your voice. “There is no one else.”

You find you’ve wandered to the window, and you peep out between the curtains. The gilded carriage is passing through the gate, taking your suitor away.

You turn back to Captain Pike. “I merely meant to say, someone I can talk to. But I had rather be an old maid, and dote on my nephews and nieces. My brother’s children.”

He stands, and joins you by the window. “Your brother is young yet, and the sea is a dangerous place.” His tone is serious for a moment, and you almost see storms in his blue eyes. But they turn amused, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “And I might not promote him to Lieutenant.”

You roll your eyes — you know him well enough to know his words are a provocation, nothing more. But he has a point — your brother cannot inherit your father’s livings. He will need the patronage of others to make his way in the world.

“Papa would appeal to the Admiral if you don’t. Fine, then, a governess, or a teacher at a school for girls. Or perhaps I shall cut my hair, don my brother’s clothes, and run away to sea myself. I don’t believe I would be the first to do such a thing.”

He raises his brows at that, surprised, then tilts his head, studying you. He was curious before, but this is something more. Still, you meet his gaze, and the moment holds.

“And how would a fine lady such as yourself like the sea, and all the privations we face in the Navy? Surely your brother has written to you of the hardships he faces aboard my ship?”

You incline your head. “He has indeed, on many occasions. And I know I would not… relish… engagements with the Spanish. But he has also written to me of palm trees, distant shores… sunlight sparkling on the ocean. I feel sure I could become accustomed to hard work, if it meant I was able to see some more of the world. If it gave me even some measure of the freedom that I lack in my present station.”

You sigh, looking out of the window again, to the tiny part of the world you know. “I suppose I shall have to marry the idiot, to protect my dear mamma in years to come if nothing else. And I do understand my fortune, truly. But… my dowry is next to nothing, and there are many other ladies who would near kill to be mistress of Hampton Park. Why does the idiot press these attentions on me?”

The door opens and your mother bustles in, followed by the housemaid laden with a fresh pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.

But you don’t think you imagine hearing Pike mutter, “Why indeed?” to himself in answer to your question.

[maryonaccross]

Hello. I know that team Black blames the Greens over why Rhaenyra's reign as queen was awful, however even in a AU world where Viserys never re-marries and Alicent doesn't exist.

Rhaenyra would have stil been a terrible queen.

Viserys never taught Rhaenyra how to rule. He should have been raising her in preparation for a leadership role by having her in the small concil, teaching her the art of politics and what she needed to do to maintain peace in the kingdom. Whoever Rhaenyra would marry would have to agree to live in King's Landing. So. Rhaenyra could remain by her father's side and learn her role as his heir.

2. Rhaenyra never took her role seriously. She believes firmly in the divine right of kings and that she as a Targaryen is claim enough for her to take the crown, despite her knowing that her cousin Rhaenys was denied and she would have been a more effective ruler then Viserys.

3. Rhaenyra's recklessness contributes to her downfall. She does whatever she likes and doesn't care about the consequences. She heavily relies upon her father and later Daemon to bail her out then not accept any personal responsibility for her getting herself into this meses.

4. All of Rhaenyra's children are illegitimate. Her eldest by Harwin Strong even by Daemon, because her first husband isn't dead. The real reason she sequestered herself on Dragonstone was to hide her children away because she cannot handle any criticism. Her answer to it is violence. That always ends well. LOL.. looking at you Maegor.

She has isolated herself political. Not trying to expand or gain influence outside of her very limited family circle. No allies means no help when she needs it.

People in the realm may not have been thrilled with the idea of a female ruler but they would rather have Rhaenyra as queen then see Daemon as king. His violent reputation was known to all. So. What does she do? Marry the very person the realm was against and make him consort.

5. Rhaenyra's ego and her vanity was her downfall. She never thought about her position from an idealistic standpoint. What she could do to improve the country and make the people's lives better. usher in a golden age. She wanted power for power's sake.

Rhaenyra's rule was always destined to end badly but with Daemon by her side, being her enabler and corrupting her with his nature. It is no wonder centuries after her death she was still despised in the country.

To me Aegon’s “I tRy sO haRD” attitude to being the kings firstborn son is the equivalent of Rhaenyra’s “ I learned that I have to earn my inheritance” mentality towards being the named heir.

I hate what the writers did with Aegon’s character (TGC is the only saving grace) but I fundamentally disagree with the common notion that show Aegon and Rhaenyra are polar opposites of each other because they are both equally unsuited for the role of the heir and share a equally unserious attitude towards the job. (At least Aegon is able to admit he’s ill suited while Rhaenyra gaslights the shit out of herself “earned my inheritance” my ass, you did nothing.) I agree 100% with all your points, I even made posts about some of them but this sums it up perfectly. Neither Aegon or Rhaenyra are aware of the responsibilities of their position (Nyra might have been in the first few episodes but got bored pretty quickly when she realized she’d actually have to stuff and make sacrifices for the realm), they don’t form good alliances (although at least Aegon did his duty in marrying Helaena and having legitimate heirs which Rhaenyra doesn’t have a single one of) or try to endear themselves to the people they will one day rule.

The advantage Aegon has is that he has advisors around him (Otto and Alicent and most of Viserys’ small council) that have ruled the realm peacefully for years in Viserys stead while Rhaenyra’s only source of political inspiration is Nepobaby Daemon who couldn’t hold any small council position for the life of him and who firmly believes that having a dragon and “being the blood of the dragon” is all it takes to rule.

About Viserys, there’s this really interesting post that explains how Viserys tied both fractions to him by never finalizing his decision of naming Nyra heir and always keeping his decision vague.

[moonmeg]

Heeey! I've always adored your comics. They're even the reason that I'm into the Wittobane Fandom! Anwayyy, I wanna know how Caleb's different viewpoint on some subjects from Evelyn and his lack of organic magic might affect his dynamic with his family in the au in which he does live

Will Caleb struggle to manage the life of a Dad, especially when his kids are a mix of another being AND a different culture? Do you think he'll keep his past a secret? I'm sure he'll try his best to be a great dad and protect his kids, but will that mean telling them of their origin (of being relater to both witch hunters and witches)? Or let them grow up with the belief a lie, something like "he's an orphan with no family or connection of any sort" since that is half true..

Ah! Caleb's dynamic with characters is always so interesting!! I'd love to know your thoughts :)

Heyyy! I'm so happy and flattered to hear you enjoy my silly little comic! Seriously, no idea what I'm doing but it seems to work lmao

As for your question: there is a comic where Caleb voices thoughts of guilt he'd have if Evelyn's and his child would turn out more human than witch. Be it appearance wise or related to magic abilities. He's scared others will put it at too high a pedestal and be mocking or excluding. Much like is actually the case with Robyn and his school yard taunt.

But he wouldn't keep part of their identity from them. They are half human, and they deserve to know that. If they'd ask him to tell more about the human realm, he'd answer their every question. Well... almost every question. He wouldn't speak much about his past, and especially when they are younger, he would keep the fact he participated in witch hunts unspoken, but he will tell them once they're able to grasp it better. Before that happens, though, most of the time, he simply says he has made many terrible mistakes in his youth.

That aspect is among the only things that might affect his relationship with his children negatively. He's trying his absolute best to be a good father overall, and he's quite successful with that. His children love him, they seek comfort in him, they love and want to spend time with him, they trust him. That is so sacred to him because it lets him know he's doing something right in his fatherly role and that essentially, he is better than his own father.

He is so scared of staining his darlings' adoration and trust in him by telling them what a horrible person he used to be. A liar, a thief*, an accomplice to murderers. Evelyn and his children are his everything. They are his world, his heartbeat and the air that he breathes. Evelyn forgave him. But will his children? This fear they may not, the fear that after they know the truth, their relationship will never be the same again, eats him alive. His only comfort is his wife's embrace and her reassuring words.

He does eventually tell them. He's met with different reactions initially, and some father-child bonds need longer to heal again than others, but if the Clawthorne kids inherited one thing from their mother, it's her forgiving and understanding nature.

[arabellachant]

hold me like a knife. i.

aegon targaryen x lannister!oc. aemond targaryen x lannister!oc.

warnings: language, underage drinking, targcest, infidelity (from almost everyone), allusions to sex, religious guilt, mysoginy, pregnancy and childbirth, possible grammar mistakes (english is not my first language)

words: 3.4k

Elora always knew why her father didn’t mind that she was a girl. It was always better for a man like her father to have a son for a firstborn, Lord Jason, however, seemed to be very glad to have his daughter. And the girl was very aware of the reason why. A girl would never inherit Casterly Rock or have any power whatsoever, but a girl could give him something he wanted more than anything. Influence. Over the king, over the Seven Kingdoms, over the entire world. So the moment Elora was born, her father bestowed upon her only one duty, to marry well, to whoever paid best, and secure his position in power.

The young lady did not seem to mind the plans her father made for her. From a young age she was taught by everyone that being married was a good thing, a certainty of a good future. And as her father had promised, he would only agree to give her away to the noblest of lords, the ones who can prove they will give her a good and prosperous life. In the meantime, Elora was dotted with every luxury she desired. Being the light of her father’s eye, the girl grew up covered with affection and rich gifts. Her every wish was fulfilled right away. And so, the girl lived the life of a princess, being treated as a princess, dressed as a princess, educated as a princess. And now she should be married as a princess.

When the Lord Jason Lannister first told his daughter they would be making a trip to King’s Landing, the girl could never have imagined that she was the matter of her father’s discussion with the king. In fact, she probably wouldn’t be so excited for this journey had she known the truth. But Elora had no reason to doubt that this was no more than another meeting, since both her father and uncle visited king Viserys frequently, but when her father told her she and her brother would go with him, the young lady rejoiced. Her travels were very rare, and every chance to see outside of the walls of Casterly Rock was a wonderful gift.

Sitting at the back of a carriage, with her younger brother’s head laying on her shoulder, the girl had no idea that her promise of a future was nearing at each passing moment. Through an opening on the carriage's window, Elora watched the landscape changing outside. How her home diminished in the distance as a different world laid in front of her.

“I believe you will quite enjoy King’s Landing.” The girl’s father smiled at her, a genuine smile on his face. “I wish I had brought you sooner, but you were too young. And I also know how you don’t like being parted from Lyonel.”

“I know, father.” Elora reassures the man in front of her, her gaze returning to the landscape outside. “But brother and I are older now, we can accompany you.” Her voice was low, as she grew distracted with the scenery.

“You may be grown, yes.” The man laughed. “But your brother still acts as a child.”

A brief smile appeared on the lady’s face as she caressed the hand of her little brother who was sound asleep against her. She didn’t mind his childish demeanour, he was two years younger than her anyways. Besides, she knew his behaviour was partially her fault, as she tended to spoil the boy every chance she had. Elora was not the kind to get attached to things or to people, but she was always close with her brother, especially after her mother died. In a way, the loss of their mother brought the children even closer to each other. The truth is Elora was also very young herself, even if her maturity did not match her young age. The girl had just turned ten, but almost all the adults in her life saw her as a lady. ‘A perfectly behaved young lady’, as they would say. She wasn’t bothered by the way people tended to forget her youth, and even took some pride in being called mature and wise. Elora herself would dismiss her young age, and engage in conversations that might have been too mature for her. On more than one occasion, she wandered into her father’s office and started participating in his private conversations with his brother, advising the men and giving her own opinion on political matters.

The silence returned to the inside of the carriage, the only sound being the birds chirping outside and the trotting of the horses. The girl took a deep breath, and looked at her father for a second. The man who always had a carefree expression on his face looked as if a sense of dread had taken over him. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes were dark with a look of worry. His hands anxiously fidgeting with each other.

“What troubles you, father?” She asked, moving her legs to lightly kick her father’s boots.

“Nothing, dear. It’s only that this meeting is very important for us.” His voice was a bit shaky, but a faint smile was on the corner of his lips. “And that’s why I need you to be on your best behaviour today.” He leaned in and pinched his daughter’s knee. “Can you do that for me?”

Elora simply nodded. She couldn’t really remember a time when she wasn’t acting like ‘a perfectly behaved young lady’, so her father’s worry didn’t seem to make sense. She laid her head on top of Lyonel’s and closed her eyes. Whatever was the purpose of this meeting, there was no need to attend it tired. 

***

Elora was woken up by the sudden cease of movements from the carriage, and opened her eyes slowly, with thin rays of sunlight burning her eyes through her eyelashes. She raised herself up and shook her brother to wake him, fixing his dishevelled hair amidst his complaints. Lord Jason took one last look at his daughter and nodded. reminding her of his request. The man jumped out of the carriage and lifted a hand to help the girl out. With a deep breath, the lady steps out into the palace’s patio, pausing for a moment to take it all in. The capital itself was very different from what the girl was used to, but the Red Keep was something to marvel about. She had heard stories of it, but standing in front of it was much different. There was this strange aura surrounding the entire castle, something made from legend. A shiver ran through her arms, and her golden hair was standing on the back of her neck. It’s only with the sound of her father’s voice that she is brought back to reality.

“Your Majesty, how kind of you to come and welcome us.” The lord bowed, holding onto his son’s hand. Seeing the movement, the girl mirrored the action, not having enough time to see the man standing in front of her. “I have brought my children to accompany me today. This is Lyonel, my son.” The young boy bows again, shy from his father’s words. “And my eldest child, Lady Elora.” The girl smiles and does a polite curtsy, taking a look at the king. To her, the man didn’t look like anything special. He has a bland face and was of average stature, his silver hair being the only thing to make him stand out, but the strands were already thin and frail, barely covering the skin. That and the adorned crown laying on top of his head.

“Oh yes, Elora.” The man took a step closer to the girl. “I remember when I received the news my cousin had a daughter.” The king bent himself a little, analysing the features on the girl's face. Elora fought the urge to take a step back, the closeness of their faces making her uncomfortable. “If I’m allowed to say it, you look a lot like your mother. Almost a full Targaryen in looks.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She mutters out a shy response. “I’m very proud of my mother’s ancestry, but I am a Lannister still.” Her expression was serious and her hands closed in a nervous fist. 

A loud laughter came out of the king’s lips, as well as a nervous chuckle came from her father. Both men seemed to find her declaration amusing.

“Yes, yes. You are very Lannister.” Viserys said in between laughs. “Definitely as fierce as a lion.”

“Yes, she is.” The lord puts a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, who relaxes her posture a little with her father’s touch. “She has definitely taken my temperament.”

The girl looked up at her father, annoyed at his comment. She did not have a bad temperament, but she was also very outspoken in her opinions. Had her brother said it, it would be seen as pride for his house. But since she was the one to mutter those words, they were perceived as foolish protests from a girl.

Lord Jason took a step forward, to put himself in front of his children, and started walking beside the king into the palace. Elora then took her brother’s hand and started following the men. The two were whispering about politics, about treaties and accords, which highly interested the girl, but she was too distracted to listen to them. Instead, she focused on admiring the halls they crossed. Analysing every painting, every tapestry. Looking outside the windows to see the great city beneath. The only sound she could hear clearly were her brother’s mumbles. Complaining about how tired he was, and how he wasn’t happy to be paraded around by his father. Elora simply giggled and shushed the boy.

“It’s a privilege to visit the king in his palace.” She whispered to him. “You should be honoured. Besides, aren’t you the one who keeps complaining he is always bored back home?” The girl teased her little brother.

“Better to be bored at home than showed off in a strange place.” Lyonel answered, and said nothing more.

The walk behind the two men seemed to last forever, and the girl started growing anxious with every step. It was indeed weird to be paraded around by her father. Lord Jason was proud of his children, no one could deny it, but he never showed any desire to display them in any way. In fact, the lord was always too protective of his children, especially since the death of his wife, so it was only on very special occasions that they would leave the security of Casterly Rock. The little bit of contact the children had with the outside world happened through gifts brought either by their father or their uncle. The two would travel quite often, either to other parts of the Westerlands or to visit King’s Landing, and each time they would return home with a chest full of presents. From books, to gowns, to exotic objects, anything that would entertain the kids. It was from these small objects they learned about what happened outside the walls of their home.

About the Targaryens, Elora knew very little. Her mother belonged to that house, but she would rarely speak about her cousins and how life was like in the Red Keep. Other than bedtime stories about legendary kings, Elora read. In the vast library of their home there were dozens of books dedicated to that dynasty, some written in an ancient language. Old Valyrian. Her mother’s tongue. The one she had to learn by herself in order to understand her past a little better. But she knew it was not the stories that made the Targaryen powerful, but their dragons. The mighty beasts who roamed the skies, breathing fire onto their enemies. Just like the wild creature that killed her mother. A shiver ran down the girl’s spine when she recalled the winged serpents, and she stopped looking at the walls. She wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, lost in her own thoughts, and she would have stayed like this for hours had she not almost bumped onto her father, who had suddenly stopped walking in front of her. Her father glanced at her quickly with a furrowed brow. The girl quickly adjusted her posture, standing still.

“Dearest Lady Elora,” The king called her. “Allow me to introduce you to the Queen, Alicent Hightower.” From behind the king, a beautiful woman appeared. Her long copper locks flowing in curls on top of her shoulders. She wore an elegant emerald gown that complimented her large dark eyes. The queen took a quick look at Elora and bowed her head. The girl followed the gesture, doing a longer curtsy, she could feel the heat from her flushed cheeks.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elora.” The queen's voice was sweet as a faint smile illuminated her face. “Your father always complimented you when he visited, I see he was right to do so.” 

“I’m very grateful for your words, Your Grace.” The girl smiled back, a newfound pride growing in her chest. “I fear I have heard very little about you, since you are far more beautiful than I had imagined.” Elora could tell that she was staring, but she didn’t feel like she could stop it. A small giggle escaped the queen’s lips, and Lord Jason smiled widely with the reaction.

“Forgive my daughter, Your Grace.” Her father intervened, but not a glimpse of embarrassment was in his eyes. “She always had her way with words.” He squeezed his daughter’s shoulder, an air of contempt on his face.

The queen simply shook her head. King Viserys also looked very pleased with the interaction, sharing a whisper to Lord Jason. The three adults started to move along the corridor now. This time, however, Elora was not at the back of the group. She proudly walked in front of her father as both of his hands laid on top of her shoulders. The monarchs shared a few words with her, asking about her interests and how life was at her home. The girl answered everything with a big smile, happy to receive some attention and more than willing to talk to them for hours. But one thing she did not understand were the glances and nods between the two men. She wasn’t sure if they were only responding to her conversation or having one of their own.

Following their lead, the group arrived at a big hall with a large table and many chairs. The monarchs moved along the sides of the table, taking seats next to each other. The girl tried taking a step forward to claim a chair for herself, but the grip on her shoulders stopped her. 

“Darling, now we have to discuss some things.” Lord Jason glanced at the king and queen. Elora knew that look, it indicated he would speak about grown-up things, and it wasn’t appropriate for her to stay there. “Why don’t you follow this lady here?” He pointed to a servant standing a few steps behind them. “I will call you back in a moment.” He smiled, but there was something about him that gave off his restlessness.

Elora nodded to her father, growing uneasy with the way things were going. She turned to king Viserys and his queen again, bowing deeply before leaving the room holding onto her brother’s arms. The servant did not share any words with the children, leading them quietly away from the meeting. Elora looked back at the corridor a few times, her mind trying to come up with reasons to why her father would want her away. ‘A moment’ he said, she surely hoped so. Even if she tried to act like she was confident in every situation, she knew she had very little control of things in there. She was in a strange place, surrounded by strange people, her only protector far in closed off halls. It wasn’t weird for her to feel a little lost, and even a little scared, but the girl would rather die than admit it, so she kept walking forward following the maid further into the castle. She couldn’t tell if she had walked for seconds or for hours before the maid stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and informed the guests to go in. The Lannister children walked into the room, which looked like a study, to find other children were there. Three of them, all silver haired, and all distracted with their own activities to notice the sudden interruption made. That was until the female servant cleared her throat, making those pairs of lilac eyes stare into the girl and her brother. Elora trembled where she stood, the abrupt amount of attention being extremely distressing.

“The Lannisters are visiting.” The woman announced. “The children will be waiting here with you while your parents are in a meeting. Be nice to them.”

Elora stood near the door frame, unable to move a muscle under the intense gaze of those inhumanly eyes. She tried to turn around to thank the servant, but by the time she looked back at the corridor behind her the woman was long gone. The girl was tense, she tried to act like she wasn’t but there was no denying it. She turned back into the study room with a low sigh, fearing that cold gaze on her again. To her relief, the Targaryen children seemed to have forgotten her presence already. Lyonel on the other hand, was lost in his boredom again, paying more attention to the mud on his boots than to anything happening inside of that room. Elora bowed her head before fully entering the hall, pulling her brother to keep up with her steady pace, and took a seat across the room from the children. Her little companion decided to sit on the floor, tugging at the lace of his shoes and trying to clean off some of the pieces of grass that got stuck to the leather. None of the people in the room said a word to each other, as they were not introduced by anyone and it didn’t feel appropriate to do it themselves. The silence was not as uncomfortable as the girl feared, as she sat quietly in an armchair that was too big for her, she let her mind wander away to distant places.

***

No matter how far Elora’s mind could fly away, she never would have  never correctly guessed the true subject matter of the meeting happening in the near hall.

“Your Majesties, you do know my firstborn is a girl, one I treasure most but a girl still.” Lord Jason spoke anxiously, but his eyes gleamed with anticipation. “And it is every father’s desire to see their daughter well wed.” He paused for a moment to watch the expression on the king and queen’s faces, both very absorbed in his words. “House Lannister has always been loyal to the Targaryen dynasty, since the era of the Conqueror. So I believe we could further strengthen the alliance of our noble houses by marriage. My Elora is growing, she will soon be old enough to be married and I suppose it would make my late wife very pleased to see her marry into house Targaryen.”

“So what do you propose?” King Viserys inquired with a small grin and looked at his wife, who seemed to be deep in thought.

Lord Jason rejoiced with the king’s question, believing the matter was concluded, and he had succeeded. “I would like to offer the hand of my daughter to your eldest son, Aegon.”

Queen Alicent took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “I fear that it’s not possible, Lord Jason.” There was a genuine frustration in her voice.

“Is that true, my King?” Lord Jason turned to Viserys, disappointed as well.

“I’m afraid it is, my friend.” The king leaned into the table. “It has been arranged for prince Aegon to be married to Helaena. It is the custom for us.” He gave a sad smile to the lord, his wife looking far more sorry than him.

Lord Jason inhaled sharply, defeated. He was ready to get up and leave. To take his daughter home and forget about bigger ambitions, but the queen’s words stopped him.

“A marriage, however, could still happen.” Her tone was low and uncertain. “The younger prince, Aemond, is not committed to anyone yet, and he is closer in age to your daughter than Aegon. I believe an engagement between them would be just as agreeable.” Alicent spoke not once looking back at the king.

The king simply nodded with the agreement, and Lord Jason was satisfied enough. ‘A prince is a prince’, he thought. Having his daughter inside the Red Keep was enough.