#my testimonies from the Lord

[saints-who-never-existed]

An interesting charity shop find from today - Arctic Solitudes by "one of our foremost men of action", the one and only Admiral Edward 'Teddy' Ratcliffe Garth Russell Evans, 1st Baron Mountevans.

[spdrvyn]

WHAT

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats Pt. 2

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Part 1

“Princess Y/N of house Velaryon.” The guard announces.

Rhaenyra’s heart skips a beat, surely he is mistaken.

“Mother,” Y/N says, racing toward her. “Your grace,” she corrects herself.

Rhaenyra wraps her eldest child in her arms. “Mother will do just fine.”

Y/N buries her face in Rhaenyra’s shoulder.

“How did you get here?” Aegon would never let her go of his own free will.

“Daemon,” Y/N breathes. Knowing that her stepfather will owe her for the half truth.

“Where are the children?”

“In King’s Landing.” Y/N tells her, “to keep Aegon’s wits about him in my absence. He wants to come to an agreement, he’s more than willing to bend the knee. I only ask that he and Helaena be spared…as for Aemond Targaryen, he is a murderer.” Y/N’s voice breaks, “we will avenge the murder of my brother.”

Rhaenyra’s strokes a hand over her hair, feeling the dark waves that remind her of Lucerys. “Aegon and Helaena will receive full pardons based on your testimony. Rest assured I appreciate what you have done on my behalf.”

“Thank you.” Y/N pulls back marginally, realizing her mother’s pregnant belly should be between them. “Where is the babe?”

Rhaenyra shakes her head.

Y/N covers her mouth with her hand, “I am terribly sorry.”

“It is no fault of yours, darling girl.”

“I should have been here with you.”

“When I offered your hand in marriage, I had no idea Aegon was capable of love. It has complicated all of this.”

Y/N nods, “speaking of my husband. I should send word that I am well, lest he take out his frustration on Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra taps her chin, affectionately. “I will fetch a scroll.”

————————————————————————-

Aegon’s youngest son is the only one of his children to share Y/N’s dark locks. His wife insisted they name him Aegon. After my dearest love. She said.

Aegon agreed of course as he can deny her nothing. The child wails nonstop, in the absence of his mother. At all of four months old, Aegon is the only one who can quiet him besides Y/N. As such, the King is now attending the small council meeting with a babe in his arms.

Their daughter, Dahlia, the eldest of the twins will sit the iron throne one day, through his line of succession and Rhaenyra’s. At all of six, she is sitting at the table. His other children Visera and Laenor have not been properly protected under the guard, they too must stay in his sightline.

“Gods be good.” Alicent frowns at her son.

“What is it?” Aegon huffs, arching a brow at her.

“The small council is no place for children, your grace.” Alicent explains. “They would be better tended by their maids.”

Aegon nods, “right. As you all know, two nights ago, the Princess Helaena was attacked in the children’s chambers. Our heirs were threatened and Queen Y/N was taken from us. During which time, not a single guard could be found on the entirety of the royal floor! Because you were-”

Aegon looks to his children in turn, “cover your ears my darlings.” He smiles, waiting until they have done as they’re told, holding his own hand over his infant’s ear. “Where were we, mother? Oh, that’s right, no one was guarding my children because you were fucking the royal guard.”

The council members lower their heads in acknowledgement.

“The men who carried out this attack, entered under the guise of rat catching. I want them found and swiftly executed.” Aegon demands, patting his sleeping son’s leg.

“We have been interrogating rat catchers for days, thus far we have no leads.” Otto explains.

A slow smile spreads over the King’s face. “Then hang them all.”

Alicent blanches.

“Anything else?” Aegon asks, watching Visera begin toying with Otto’s chair.

“A letter arrived from Dragonstone, your grace.” Lord Tyland informs him.

“Oh?” Aegon says, “from Rhaenyra?”

“From Queen Y/N.”

Aegon swallows, “did you read it?”

“No, my King.”

“Good,” Aegon reaches for the rolled parchment.

‘My dearest Aegon,

Please know that I am well. We would like to begin negotiations to end the blockade and create a peaceful transfer of power. This will require your cooperation, I hope you will meet me at Dragonstone to discuss this matter farther.

Forever yours,

Y/N’

Aegon exhales, sharply.

“What is it, your grace?”

“The children and I are off to Dragonstone.”

“Whatever for?”

“To negotiate the terms of Y/N’s return.”

“My King…”

“And if you cannot agree on said terms?” Alicent asks.

Aegon frowns, lifting a shoulder. “To war then.”

“He is unhinged,” Otto whispers to his daughter.

“As I warned he would be.” Alicent rises from her seat. “He is quite…devoted to her.”

————————————————————————

“It has been three days since you sent word to King’s Landing. We must assume Aegon’s silence is his response.” Daemon seethes, around the drawing table.

“Give it time.” Y/N insists, “you owe me that.”

Daemon smirks, “I owe you nothing, spoiled thing.”

“Mmm,” Y/N hums. “My mother does not yet know how I came to be here.”

“And you are not going to tell her. Otherwise, my distaste for your usurping cunt of a husband will be demonstrated at length.”

Sunfyre roars, calling their attention to the nearest window.

Daemon huffs, “I’ll be damned.”

“And he’s brought the children.” Y/N rejoices, running out to join her family.

Jacaerys is already helping to unload her children from the makeshift carriage on the dragon’s saddle.

“Mother!” Dahlia and Visera charge Y/N nearly knocking her backwards.

Laenor runs after them with his little legs as Aegon the fourth, stares at her, babbling in his father’s arms.

Y/N is moved to tears, “you came.”

“You didn’t think I would?” Aegon cocked his head to the side.

“It’s a rather large ask,” Y/N explains.

“For you, the world.” He replies, with a kiss to her temple. “Now, where is Rhaenyra? We have much to discuss.”

“Her grace will join us soon.”

Aegon nods, “I request a small audience, before the council.”

“That can be arranged.”

“After which your brother might tend the children whilst you show me your quarters.” Aegon whispers.

Y/N smirks, “of course.”

Part 3

Taglist: @minttea07 @callsignwidow @fallout-girl219 @syraxnyra @vickynephilim @jeondeluxe111 @geeksareunique @arya-brooke @7minutes-tomidnight

[readychilledwine]

Odd One Out pt 2

Summary - After 500 years of friendship, the last thing you ever expected was the Inner Circle to miss one of your symphonies. But you know what they say, time changes people.

Warnings - 10 year time jump, groveling, Fluff, reader forgives Azriel, loosely edited (Liz will fix and check for mistakes she and her friend missed with fresh eyes 💕)

A/N - forgive the name picked for Kal and Vivienne's daughter. So many of you are playing with Disney princess themes I couldn't shake it.

Odd One Out pt 1

✨️ Azriel Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

Dawn was beautiful. In the past 10 years, as you had toured the Realm performing, you had realized that quickly. Every court always brought you back to Dawn. Every High Lord brought you back to Thesan. Thesan had allowed you to build home here, welcoming you and your talent with open arms, and tonight was a true testimony of his love for you and your music as he paid you a high honor.  

Thesan had spent the day hosting the quarterly High Lord's Meeting, and tonight, his gift of relaxation to the other High Lords was you, your orchestra, and a night of candle lit music, champagne, and food. 

You smoothed out the dress Thesan had commissioned for you tonight. An off the shoulder tulle number with long sleeves. It was soft and buttery, flowing with every step. The top hugged you perfectly, and two long slits sat on each leg, exposing them and the heels you were wearing. The fabric was a soft white color, a stark opposite to your conducting gowns in the Night Court. Jewels were sewn into the fabric, dripping down your body like you had been wrapped and bathed in starlight. The only sign of your home was that star-like glow and the earrings Azriel had bought you many years ago. The rough diamonds set in rose gold had backs that dropped on delicate chains with another diamond sitting at the bottom. “something delicate for my gentle girl,” he had whispered that sentence to you, letting it sink into your skin and mind. 

How odd it truly felt to compare that moment to when Azriel sat there in silence as Elain lashed out against all you had built, all your hard work, studying, you're very being. 

You took a deep breath, silencing your nerves as the theater went quiet. Dinner had been served, drinks flowing left and right, and now it was time. You watched as you musicians took their places, sitting and preparing themselves as well. Most had followed you from Night, and last you tragically heard, the Rainbow had grown silent in your absence. The new musicians ranged from every court, every walk of life. You smiled fondly at what you had remade, at their outfits so finely crafted of black fabric and silks. 

Thesan took the stage next, doing something Rhysand never had, “High Lords and Ladies, faithful emissaries, friends. After a long day of tense negotiations, words said in anger and frustration, and Rhysand's horrible father jokes,” a loud “hey” came from the audience making you laugh softly, “I could not think of a more enchanting way to end our night. A decade ago, a talented female came to me, offering to exchange a week of shelter and security for her playing music nightly for my court.” 

Thesan looked so softly towards you, “An offer many of you would go in to receive as well as she traveled our lands studying our music and history. Her talent had touched my fae and myself so deeply that when the time for her to make a home base came, I was honored when she approached me and built this theater to her exact wants and needs.”

He continued after a long breath, “Tonight is her first performance and opening night. I felt it would be wrong for anyone besides all of us to see her newest pieces first. Pieces inspired by every court, by all of our stories, of our fae’s stories. She wrote a collection of 7 songs, for us, about us.”

Silence refell over the room, a quiet appreciation for what they were about to see. “Without further ado, y/n.”

Clapping began as the faelights turned off, and candles took their place, glowing and reflecting off your gown. You bowed gracefully before turning and raising your hands as soon as Thesan took his seat. You began the concert in Tamlin's court, playing a piece inspired by his own love of music and the sounds of a spring storm. The music rose before a gentle fall where everything became more gentle as if it was quiet after a hard rain. You couldn't see as Briar took his hand at the swell, the soft moment where the violin went from the jig of a fiddle to the formality was a reflection of the moment Tamlin's dreams were lost to him, but new dreams began.

Summer was a symphony to the magic of bioluminescence. The sound was heavily inspired by the night of laughter and fun you had watched Varian and Amren enjoy. It had been the ancient female's first time seeing the ocean turn to waves of stars, and Varian had hired you to play for them that night. She cried as a familiar harp solo came, one that she had turned to Varian on one knee as you played it. 

Autumn was the sound of battle and passion. Eris's rise as high lord was captured in every note, every building drum. The high lord openly smiled during the peak. The moment where drums of war faded to the sounds of peace. The sound of peace after war was shown through a soft wood flute playing. An instrument that was born in Autumn's halls.

Winter had been the most unique to compose. Kallias and Vivienne's story was so well known, but their daughter, their darling Elsa, the 10 year old princess, was an unknown and protected factor. You took a deep breath before beginning this piece and looked to the white-haired girl, “For you,” you said softly to her bright grin. Elsa had written on sheet music for you during your stay there, lyrics to accompany the notes on your page, you held out your hand, welcoming your only singer for the night. The song was a desperate plea, a singer begging to be noticed for who she was, for her talent to be noticed before her beauty. You had picked the singer based on how young and fragile her voice sounded, the way it truly felt like a cry as she begged to be looked at for who she was. 

Dawn's turn came and the music felt like taking flight, it encompassed the thrill of the air, of an early morning sunrise adventure. The piece left you breathless due to the amount of movements it took. It was intricately layered and as lively as Thesan's court while maintaining an air of class. 

The Day Court was music of love and sex. Tender moments mixed with playful notes and chords that screamed sensuality. The tone was overall seduction, but moments of tenderness came through as well. It was a tribute to the biggest flirt you knew. The biggest flirt who became the most faithful husband. 

You were left with one court. You turned to begin your thank you and took a deep breath, “Over the past several years, you all have welcomed me into your courts and homes with open arms. You allowed me to study the music of your homes, your culture, and learn to play them to perfection. For that, I will always be grateful and so humbled by the generosity and kindness shown to me.”

You took a deep breath, stilling the last of your nerves. “My story begins in Night, though. My childhood began a long friendship between myself and someone who pushed me towards my dreams. This last song is dedicated to him.”

Azriel heard as Rhysand held his breath. He watched as his brother laced his fingers with Feyre. Feyre began to cry immediately. Of all the songs you composed, this one held the most strings, a clear call to Rhysand and your humble beginnings in the streets of the Rainbow playing. Azriel watched you in awe. 

You turned and a voice you had heard countless times played through magic. It was the moment they had met and a soft purr of, “There you are. I've been looking for you," echoed before the music began.

10 years, 10 years without even so much as a whisper or note. He watched you move with grace, watched as a violin sang softly. The tune was a call to the Inner Circle, and before Azriel could stop them, his shadows began to dance. 

Every movement of your arms and body was like watching liquid starlight sparkle and gleam to the fantasy inducing tune you had created. As your hands fell to indicate the end, Azriel felt his heart stopping. 

It was the bond that drew him to you. 

It was the years of friendship, of quiet nights listening to you play for just him, or long hours with you hands over his, so soft and warm, teaching him to play piano. 

It was the fact that he was in love with you. And he realized he had been for a very long time. 

Kind, talented, beautiful, you. 

He watched as you wiped a few quick tears as you and Rhysand held eye contact. He felt his breath hitch as you bowed during your queue before walking out. 

The orchestra played a familiar tune as everyone stood to leave and feyre began to cry. You had played this song during Feyre's first Starfall, hoping the romantic tune would have been enough to make the high lord and his mate kiss. It became a song they begged you to play every second they could. Rhysand held Feyre while looking at Azriel. 

“Get. Her. Back.”

You did not attend the after party. Seeing the Inner Circle had been too much. You had hoped that after all these years, that pain would be gone. You leaned against your balcony, humming a new tune you wanted to write. A shadow caressed your skin as you moved inside and sat at your harp. “I know you want me to play your song.” The shadow swirled and began to dance as you plucked the taunt strings. 

“You spoil them.” Your breath hitched at that familiar voice. “Don't stop,” Azriel sat down in the corner of the room. “They've missed dancing for you.”

You let out a shaking breath and began again, watching with a soft smile as the shadows weaved and played. The sight always memorized you. They always memorized you. These beautiful shadows were more like children than darkness. Each had a personality, a voice, a preference in instrument. You finished and lowered your hands.

“Elain is probably wondering where you are.”

Azriel rose a brow, “Elain and Lucien are on their honeymoon, sailing the world.” 

You knit your brows. “I'm sorry. I know you loved her.”

“Not the way I love you.” Silence fell over the room, “I have loved you for so long and been blind to it. I will never get back the time I wasted in my stupidity. I will never be able to take back the hurt Elain caused you.” 

You went to open your mouth and speak, “No. I want you just to listen to me, y/n.” You nodded and looked at him. “I love you,” he stated it like a finality. “The bond snapped for me the night you left, but in your absence, I have realized I loved you long before that blessing and that I would love you long after.”

He paused and continued, “I was silent when Elain spoke to you because I was in shock, but that isn't a good enough excuse. She hurt you, and I stayed silent. I will never forgive myself for that, so I do not expect you to. I'm not even worthy of asking you for a chance to make things right, but I am here as a desperate male. A male who wants nothing more than his mate, his love.”

“Azriel-” 

“Listen,” he moved to you, getting in his knees before you and taking you hands in his. He placed one on his face and smiled. “I dream of this gentle hands, of the joy they bring. I dream of you. Of your love and light. Your heart. When I sleep, I pretend I can hear your heart dancing for me, luring me like a siren spell.” 

Your bottom lip trembled and a tear fell, his love for you poured down that neglected bond, warming every inch of your being. “Azriel..” 

“Y/n, I am so sorry I wasted so much of your time, of our time.”

You threw your arms around him, holding him tight as he continued. “I beg you to allow me to try to make this right. To show you how special you are to me, to our home, to our family. I am begging you for just a chance.” 

His words left like a healing and soothing balm on unseen wounds. “Our family is at a party just below you. Waiting for me to either come back with you or to mourn the loss of you forever. Tell me what I am doing. If I have failed us.”

The party was in full swing as Rhysand watched Nyx and Feyre dance. He held his empty whiskey glass, debating on another one when perfectly manicured hands grabbed his empty glass and placed a full one in his grasp. He grabbed that soft hand instantly, “y/n darling.”

“Rhysand,” He turned and kissed your palm, violet eyes on yours. You continued the greeting softly. “Your presence makes my mind sing the most beautiful song.”

Rhysand held back tears as he answered, “And my heart longs to hear you play it.” He nuzzled your hand. “Come home to us.”

You sighed happily as Azriel rested his hand on your back, “I believe we can negotiate that." 

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp

Odd One Out Taglist:

@gabbiskylar01 @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @blacktreacle22 @buttermilktea11 @heartless-tate @nerdy4itall @eep500 @tele86 @cleverzonkwombatsludge

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Try Again [1]

Pairing: assistant!Jongho x new maid!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: Among the many staff members at General Park's estate, Jongho stood out for his dedication, leaving no room for personal indulgence. Convinced that love and marriage would detract from his commitment to serving the general, he had resigned himself to a life of solitude. But his conviction was challenged with the arrival of an annoyingly perfect Miss Kwon, a new maid whose kindness and efficiency began to make him rethink his life choices.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"So, that's her?" Jongho asked, raising a sceptical brow as he scrutinised you from a distance. The head maid nodded beside him. "Yes, that's Miss Kwon, highly recommended by many noblewomen across Joseon for her exceptional skills in caring for pregnant women and newborns. Do you… not approve of her? The mistress has already met her and seemed very pleased."

The general's assistant shook his head. "It's not that. I just… didn't expect her to be this young. I thought experts in this field were usually, well, middle-aged women."

Eunsook chuckled. "You're not wrong about that, Jongho, but Miss Kwon is different. Some people are just born talented, and it seems she's one of them."

"Hm, we'll see about that."

Jongho didn't want to be overly suspicious, but he couldn't help being cautious about new people, especially those coming to work at the estate for Seonghwa. With the general's wealth and status came many threats and people with various intentions, so he could never be too careful about who got close. Since you would not only join the household as a regular maid but also as the mistress' personal caretaker, you would inevitably have many opportunities to attempt something if you wanted to.

Sure, Eunsook claimed you were an expert in this particular field, but those were just words. He needed to see it to believe it, and for the next few months, he vowed to keep a close eye on you to ensure you were here purely for work and nothing else.

I'm watching you, Kwon.

"I promise, my lord. I will do my absolute best to take care of Lady Park and the future young master or miss. It would be my greatest honour to serve you and your family. My past employers can vouch for me if you wish. I am still in touch with most of them and can arrange for you to speak with them if you would like testimonies—"

General Park halted your rehearsed speech with a raised hand, an intimidating grin serving as a warning. "I appreciate it, Miss Kwon. But there's no need for that. My wife is adamant about having you care for her and our child. The choice is not in my hands, but I will say this: I am not a simple man, and I’m sure you are aware of that. If you attempt anything suspicious, the consequences will not be pretty. This is nothing against you; just know that every member of my staff has had to prove their trustworthiness."

You nodded firmly, fully understanding his caution. "Absolutely, sir. I understand completely. You have every reason to be careful, but rest assured, I will prove myself worthy. Thank you for granting me the opportunity to work for the lovely Lady Park."

True to your words, you lived up to expectations. If anything, Seonghwa would say you exceeded them. Your dedication and expertise quickly became apparent as you cared for the mistress with unwavering attention. Your knowledge of herbal remedies and gentle demeanour provided immense comfort to her during her pregnancy. The household buzzed with praise for you, and it didn’t take long for nearly everyone in the estate to like you. Even the general, known for his high standards, was impressed by your commitment and skill.

However, there was one person who remained at a distance—Jongho. Despite the praise you received from everyone else, the assistant maintained what he called a "professional distance." He watched you with a critical eye, always analysing, always assessing. While the rest of the staff warmed to your presence, he seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length.

You noticed his behaviour—it was hard not to—but didn’t let it deter you. You continued to perform your duties with the same level of dedication and kindness. Lady Park's condition improved steadily under your care, and the household ran smoothly. Your interactions with the other staff were friendly and respectful, and you often found yourself in the kitchen sharing a laugh with Eunsook or helping the junior maids with their tasks.

One evening, as you were preparing a soothing herbal tea for the mistress in the kitchen, you felt someone's gaze on you. You looked up to find Jongho passing by the doorway, his expression unreadable—the way it always was whenever he was around you. Your eyes followed him until he was out of sight. With a sigh, you shook your head and returned to your task.

Hearing the sigh, the head maid came up beside you. "What is it, dearie? You okay?"

You shrugged. "I don't know, Eunsook. I think… I think Assistant Choi dislikes me. It's been a month since I started work, and I'm well acquainted with nearly everyone in the estate… except him. I tried, I really did, but he just somehow refuses to let me in."

Eunsook gave you a sympathetic smile. "Don't take it to heart, Miss Kwon. Jongho is like that with everyone at first. He's very protective of the general and the household. It’s not personal."

You sighed again, stirring the tea gently. "I understand his caution, but it can be... disheartening. I just want to do my job well and be part of the team."

The elderly woman patted your shoulder reassuringly. "Give it time. He's a tough nut to crack, but once he sees your dedication, he'll come around. Just keep doing what you're doing. Everyone else has already seen how wonderful you are, and he will too."

You nodded, feeling a bit more hopeful. "Thank you, Eunsook. I'll keep trying."

With that, you finished preparing the tea and carried it to the House of Lotus, determined to prove yourself not just to the household, but eventually, even to the distant assistant.

But that might not be as easy as you thought. You should have known better. Your usual fail-proof plan to befriend someone had, for once, failed you. Offering help has always been your best way to connect with people. This time, however, it seemed to have backfired.

"Here's my chance," you mumbled to yourself as you spotted Jongho exiting the general's study, balancing a huge pile of scrolls in his arms. The stack was so high that he had to use his peripheral vision to navigate.

"Oh! Assistant Choi, please let me help!" you exclaimed, bounding over to him, your hands reaching for some of the scrolls at the top, which were obscuring his view. But before you could even touch them, he turned away from you and growled.

"No, thank you. I don't recall asking for your help. Please step aside."

When you opened your mouth to insist, he shot you a stern glare, sneering, "Instead of poking your nose into others' business, I'd suggest you do what you were hired to do. Good day, Miss Kwon."

Damn, what's his deal?

Stunned and a bit hurt, you stepped back, watching as he continued on his way, the scrolls wobbling precariously. You sighed, realising that winning him over would be more challenging than you had anticipated. Determined not to let this setback discourage you, you reminded yourself of Eunsook's words and resolved to keep trying. After all, perseverance and patience had always been your strengths, and you were not about to give up now.

Jongho huffed, rushing off to deliver the scrolls to Royal Secretary Choi as he always did. This wasn't a new task, and he certainly did not need any help. He wasn't a child; if anything, he was the general's most trusted aide for a good reason. If he needed assistance, he wouldn't be in his current position. How foolish of you to think you could charm your way to him just like that. He wasn't like the rest and wouldn't fall so easily. He knew he wasn't usually this harsh with other newcomers, but there was a reason for that.

Truthfully, he felt bitter.

People like him and Eunsook had to work so hard for many years to prove themselves, to get to where they were, to be acknowledged by all the estate staff. Yet here you were, freshly joined, and already you had everyone smitten and wrapped around your little finger. Just who did you think you were? He refused to believe you were as perfect as everyone made you out to be. Surely, you were flawed somewhere, and he was determined to find that flaw.

As he strode down the hallway, Jongho's mind raced with thoughts of you. He remembered the countless hours he had spent earning the trust and respect of the general and the other senior staff members, especially back when Seonghwa was neither kind nor forgiving. It had been a gruelling process, filled with challenges and sacrifices. And now, watching you seamlessly integrate into the household, seemingly without effort, grated on his nerves.

He arrived at San's office, carefully setting down the scrolls. The secretary glanced up, nodding in acknowledgement. "Everything alright, my man? You look a little bothered." Jongho took a deep breath and nodded, keeping his poker face intact, trying to shake off the irritation that clung to him. "I'm fine."

On his way back, he couldn't help but replay the earlier encounter in his mind. Your earnest offer to help, your genuine concern—it all felt too convenient, too perfect. He didn't trust it. No one could be that flawless, especially not someone so new to the estate.

Determined, the assistant resolved to keep a closer watch on you. He would observe your every move, waiting for the moment you slipped up, for the crack in your perfect facade. Only then would he feel vindicated in his mistrust. Until that day, he would remain vigilant, never letting his guard down.

And so, the silent battle continued.

You, with your unwavering kindness and dedication, and Choi Jongho, with his relentless scrutiny and scepticism. Little did he know, this ongoing clash would shape both of your lives in ways neither of you could foresee.

"Well, are things any better now?" Lady Park asked as you massaged her shoulders, which were stiff from hours of embroidering. Lord, this woman really needed to indulge in the activity in moderation.

You blinked. "Hm? Are you asking me that question, my lady?"

She chuckled. “If not you, who else? It's just us here, silly.”

You furrowed your brows. "I’m afraid I don't follow. What exactly are you referring to? My work here? It's going great, and you already know that—"

She clucked her tongue, rolled her eyes, and turned to face you. "I can't tell if you’re genuinely dense or just playing dumb with me, Miss Kwon. I'm talking about Jongho, of course. You’ve been trying to befriend him, haven't you?"

Your jaw dropped. "H-how'd you—"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you really think Eunsook would keep anything from me, hm?"

You sighed, a bit embarrassed. "I just… didn't want to trouble you with it, my lady. It's nothing serious."

The mistress gave you a knowing look. "It might not seem serious to you, but it affects the atmosphere in the household. Jongho can be… difficult, but he means well. Have you made any progress?"

You shook your head. "Not really. He's very guarded, and every time I try to help or get close, he pushes me away. It's frustrating."

She smiled softly. "Give it time, Miss Kwon. Jongho has his reasons for being the way he is. He's had to work hard to earn his place and is wary of anyone new. Just be patient and continue doing your best. He’ll come around eventually, I know it."

You nodded, feeling a bit more hopeful. "Thank you. I'll keep trying."

Lady Park patted your hand. "Good. Now, enough about Jongho. Tell me more about these herbs you use. They've been working wonders for my headaches."

You smiled, glad to shift the conversation to something more pleasant, and began explaining the different herbs and their benefits to pregnant women like herself.

In the short time you had been at the estate, the mistress already felt like an elder sister to you. For once, it was nice to feel genuinely cared for. Growing up in a family where sons were favoured, being the only girl and a middle child among five siblings was challenging. Your parents had always focused on your four brothers, leaving you neglected and constantly chasing after their affection and acknowledgement. When none came, you had left home as soon as you were old enough—not that anyone cared or noticed. For all you knew, they could have been cheering on the inside.

On your journey to find your own path, fate intervened in the form of a woman going into labour in the middle of a busy street. Without a second thought, you rushed to assist her, drawing from the little knowledge you had gained from witnessing your mother give birth to your fourth and fifth brothers, along with some information from books about the female body and childbirth you had picked up out of curiosity. Naturally, you safely helped deliver the woman's baby after escorting her to a kind-hearted merchant's store nearby.

The townspeople who witnessed the event were amazed by your talent. Almost immediately, you were hired to assist with more births. With each case you took on, your expertise grew, and your name spread throughout the community.

Now, here you were, hired by the great General Park of the Joseon Royal Army to care for his beloved wife. While you had worked for many noble families before, this was undoubtedly the most prestigious addition to your portfolio.

Lady Park smiled as you described the different herbs and their benefits. "You have such a wealth of knowledge, Miss Kwon. It’s clear why you come so highly recommended."

You blushed slightly, appreciating her kind words. "Thank you, my lady. It's been a journey to get here, and you have no idea how honoured I am to be in your service."

She squeezed your hand. "And we're lucky to have you. Keep doing your best. Jongho... will come around in time, trust me, and soon enough, you’ll feel truly at home here."

Despite the challenges with the assistant, you were determined not to let him stand in the way of proving yourself in the household. This opportunity with the Park family was the pinnacle of your career so far, and you were determined to make the most of it.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your session, mistress, but this is rather urgent. Miss Kwon, Assistant Choi has requested your presence at the inventory," a maid called out.

Speak of the devil.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you pointed to yourself. "M-me? Are you sure?" The maid nodded, a teasing grin on her face. "Yes, you." Everyone had noticed your efforts to get close to the assistant, so your reaction was understandable.

With a gentle pat on your hand, the mistress nodded toward the exit of her quarters. "No worries at all, dear. Go on then, he's waiting."

Gathering your composure, you followed the maid and made your way to the storeroom. As you arrived, you saw Jongho and Eunsook amidst piles of supplies, meticulously checking off items on their lists. He glanced up at you and gave a slight nod as acknowledgement, his expression as emotionless as ever.

"Miss Kwon, it's good that you're here. We're finalising our inventory check. Eunsook and I have settled the rest, but we need your expertise for the maternity essentials. Please have a look and let us know what isn't sufficient," the general's aide said, his tone formal and business-like.

You nodded and moved towards the designated area for the maternity supplies. Carefully, you inspected each item, making mental notes of what was present and what was missing. Your hands moved methodically through the various herbs and preparations until you noticed a glaring absence.

"Oh dear, it seems we're lacking the Fenugreek, Black Cohosh, and Raspberry Leaf. These herbs are essential as the delivery date is nearing," you remarked, turning to the two senior staff members.

Assistant Choi's eyes narrowed slightly, his focus entirely on you. "Is it critical? Funny how Physician Jung never mentioned these."

"Yes, very much so. We can't afford to be without them. Physician Jung is a general medical practitioner, but I specialise in this field. I hope you understand," you affirmed, suppressing the slight anger you felt at his sceptical and accusatory tone.

With a raised brow and a defeated nod, he made a decision. "Fine. We’ll need to procure them immediately. Miss Kwon, you will accompany me to the market."

You blinked in surprise. "There's no need for that. I can go alone, Assistant Choi. I know exactly where to find it."

Jongho's expression hardened. "I do not trust you to complete this task alone. I'll accompany you. Now, let us make haste."

Gosh, this man is exhausting.

Reluctantly, you nodded and followed him out of the storeroom. Eunsook gave you a playful fist pump, wishing you luck, and you responded with a half-hearted pout. The carriage ride to the market was tense, the air thick with unspoken tension. You sat quietly in one corner while he occupied the opposite end, his attention fixed on the parchment detailing their shopping list. Every attempt you made to break the ice was met with a stern glare, his eyes daring you to disturb the uneasy silence.

Biting your lip, you couldn't stand the oppressive quiet any longer. Clearing your throat, you began, "Um… so, do you… um, have you been to this market often?"

His gaze snapped up, cold and piercing. "It doesn't matter. Let's just focus on the task at hand," he replied curtly, his voice sharp.

You flinched at his tone, instantly regretting your attempt at conversation. Folding your hands in your lap, you turned to gaze out the carriage window, the passing scenery a blur as you pondered how to navigate this journey without further upsetting him.

Once at the market, Jongho's vigilance became apparent as he kept a sharp eye on your surroundings, seemingly ensuring your safety. To your surprise, he took precautions like guiding you to walk on the inside of the road and positioning himself slightly behind you, vigilant against potential threats from passing carriages or lurking thieves. Despite his usual stern demeanour, his actions revealed a decency you hadn't expected.

"Careful, watch your step. Ignore them and go straight ahead," his voice sounded from behind you. You felt the ghost of his touch on your back, his hand hovering near your waist as he shielded you from a rowdy group of drunken men sauntering around in broad daylight. Your heart skipped a beat at the proximity, and you nodded wordlessly, afraid that speaking might reveal the flustered state he had caused. His presence made you feel oddly safe, a feeling you hadn't anticipated experiencing around him.

As you navigated through the crowded market, his vigilance never wavered. He steered you away from potential dangers, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. When you reached the apothecary, he took the lead, ensuring you were well-protected.

"Is this it?" he asked, looking at the apothecary you frequented. You nodded, and he folded the parchment, stowing it back in his bag. "You know, we could've gone to Ryu's Apothecary. Yunho's fiancée— I mean Miss Ryu, she would've given us a discount."

You sighed softly. "Yes, but they won't have what we need. These herbs are different and rare, specifically used during labour. This apothecary is the only one I know that supplies them. Just trust me on this."

"Fine, let's go," he grumbled, his tone still gruff but less dismissive.

At the apothecary, his negotiating skills came to the fore. "Thanks, we'll take them," you quickly accepted the price offered as usual, but Jongho stepped in, handling the transaction with sharp precision.

"Before we agree so hastily, I believe it's important that we try to negotiate," he muttered, gently moving you aside from the counter. Just as you were about to protest, his persuasive mannerisms took over, and before you knew it, he had managed to secure a lower price.

"And that's how you do it, Miss Kwon."

"Y-yes, Assistant Choi."

On your way back to the estate, you couldn't help but reflect on the day's events. Despite his cold exterior, the assistant's professionalism was undeniable. His vigilance and the way he ensured the efficiency of the task had impressed you.

You finally witnessed firsthand his meticulous attention to detail and sharp negotiating skills. He had secured the necessary herbs at a reasonable price, demonstrating a keen understanding of the market and a commitment to obtaining the best for his employer. It was the first time since joining the general's estate that you had seen his capabilities in action. Previously, you had only heard about how dedicated he was to every single detail, but today, you saw him in a new light. With that came a growing respect and admiration for his attitude towards his work.

Upon returning, you handed the herb to the head maid for storage and turned to Jongho. "Thank you. Your help was invaluable today."

He merely nodded, his expression unreadable. "Just doing my job. Make sure everything is in order."

Despite his continued aloofness, you had gained a newfound respect for him. His commitment to the household was undeniable, and you admired him for it. His cold exterior had masked a fierce sense of duty. You realised that, despite his stern demeanour, he took his responsibilities seriously and was just doing everything in his power to ensure the well-being of the household.

Back in your quarters that evening, you sat by the window, looking out at the fading light. The day's events had given you a new perspective on Assistant Choi. You had seen a side of him that was hidden beneath layers of formality and distance. His actions had spoken volumes about his character, and you found that a rather... attractive trait.

Hmm, maybe he's not all that bad.

Your admiration for him only seemed to grow after an emergency one night at the estate. A severe storm had wreaked havoc, causing significant damage to various parts of the property. The wind howled, and the rain poured down in torrents, leaving broken windows, fallen trees, and a flooded courtyard in its wake. Immediate repairs and organisation were required, and you found yourself working alongside Jongho to coordinate the repair efforts.

"We need to assess the damage and allocate tasks to the repair teams immediately," he said, his tone sharp but calm as he surveyed the chaos around him. His usual stern demeanour was replaced with a focused intensity, like a man on a mission.

You nodded, grabbing a lantern and following him through the rain-soaked grounds. "Careful!" he exclaimed, his hands shooting out to steady you when you yelped, nearly slipping on the wet ground. "Th-thanks, I'm fine. I'll be more careful from now on," you stuttered, feeling flustered by his warm, large hands on your shoulders.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to freeze as you both locked eyes. His gaze was intense, revealing a depth you hadn't noticed before. Suddenly aware of his touch, he cleared his throat and promptly released his hold. "Right, let's go. No time to waste."

With the urgency of the situation pressing on him, the assistant wasted no time dwelling on what had just happened. He moved with purpose, his eyes scanning for damage while directing the staff with precision. Teams were swiftly assigned to clear debris, patch up broken windows, and start pumping out water from flooded areas. His leadership remained steadfast, and he willingly joined in wherever his assistance was needed.

"Over here! This tree needs to be cleared right away. It’s blocking the main path," Jongho called out, rolling up his sleeves and picking up an axe himself. You watched in awe as he swung the tool with practised ease, chipping away at the fallen tree. His relentless work ethic was evident in every action, showing no sign of fatigue even as the hours dragged on.

"Here, let me help with that," you offered, stepping forward.

He glanced at you briefly, a rare flicker of appreciation in his eyes. "Focus on coordinating the teams. I need you to ensure everyone is where they need to be."

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. You ran from one team to another, relaying his instructions and ensuring the work was progressing smoothly. Every time you returned to his side, he was still working tirelessly, whether it was hauling debris, directing the repair crews, or inspecting the work that had been done.

As the night wore on and the storm began to subside, you noticed that he seemed to have caught a cold from working in the rain all night. Constant coughs and sneezes escaped him, but he ignored them and continued his work with undiminished intensity.

"Jongho, you need to take a break," you said, your eyes widening when you realised you had called him by his name instead of his title. Your heart raced, preparing for the lecture that was sure to come, but there was none. He merely wiped his forehead with his hanbok sleeve, shaking his head.

"I'm fine. There's no time for that."

His tireless work ethic left a lasting impression on you, making you see beyond his exterior. And in that moment, you realised there was much more to Assistant Choi than met the eye.

By the time the first light of dawn began to break, the major repairs were completed. The estate, though still showing signs of the storm's wrath, was well on its way to recovery. You and the assistant stood in the courtyard, muddy and exhausted, but there was a sense of accomplishment in the air.

"You've worked hard today, Jongho. You must be exhausted," you said, your voice filled with genuine concern.

He merely nodded, his usual aloofness returning. "I'm sure we all are. But we're far from finished; there's still more work to be done. Make sure the teams are ready for the next phase."

Despite his continued formality, you couldn't help but feel a deep respect for him. His actions that night had spoken volumes about his character, revealing a dedication and decency that you found truly admirable. As you returned to your quarters, you felt a newfound determination to prove yourself to him, hoping that one day he might see you as an ally rather than an outsider.

But it won't be easy.

On the other side of the servant's quarters, Jongho lay awake in bed, struggling to push the memory of you saying his name out of his mind. He was angry at himself for not correcting you; he didn't like how his heart was starting to react around you. Despite the cold front he put up, he couldn't stop thinking about your bright personality and your infuriatingly cheerful smile.

He would rather die than admit to anyone he enjoyed the impromptu trip to the market with you, enjoyed having you close as you walked down the busy streets together, and enjoyed feeling what it was like to have someone to protect. Was this how Seonghwa felt around the mistress? No, no, he could not afford to think like this.

Unlike the general, he had nothing to offer.

For the longest time, he was convinced that his purpose lay solely in his service. But then you came along and just had to mess things up. You were everything Jongho was not: warm, approachable, and seemingly unruffled by the complexities of life. Your kindness and efficiency quickly won you favour among the staff, and your presence brought a refreshing vibrancy to the estate.

He often watched you from a distance, his initial curiosity soon giving way to annoyance. How could someone so young and inexperienced be so... perfect? You were always so nice, so sweet, so helpful, a stark contrast to his own brusque demeanour. And worse, you seemed to take a special interest in him. He wasn't an idiot; he could tell you were going out of your way to offer assistance and engage in conversation. He couldn't understand it. He didn't want to understand it. He had no time for such distractions.

Yet, despite his best efforts to ignore you, he found himself watching you more often, his eyes drawn to your easy smiles and the way you moved with such graceful efficiency. He hated the way his thoughts strayed to you, disrupting his focus. He hated the way his heart seemed to betray him, beating a little faster whenever you were near.

As he lay there, he replayed the events of the night in his mind over and over. You had called him by his name, and he let it slide. He should have corrected you and maintained the distance that was necessary for both of your sakes. But he didn't. Instead, he found himself yearning for more moments like that, where the walls between you seemed a little less solid.

"Jongho, you need to take a break."

He could still hear the concern in your voice and see the worry in your eyes. It was unnerving, to say the least. The assistant was used to being the one who took care of things, the one who ensured everything ran smoothly. Having someone care about him was a new, unsettling experience.

Enough, Choi Jongho. Stop this nonsense.

Determined to regain control, he went to great lengths to avoid you in the days that followed. He needed to reclaim his composure and restore the once-existent distance between you. His job was what mattered, and he had to focus on it.

Not you.

Already irritated by the unwelcome feelings you had stirred, the combination of sleep deprivation and his lingering cold only exacerbated his mood, leaving him increasingly irritable. No one dared to disturb him, sensing his foul mood.

The final straw came when he heard your voice. "There you are! I've been searching for you. Here are some Echinacea. It's good for your cold. You really should do something about it before it worsens."

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face you.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Jongho demanded, his voice harsher than he intended. "I don't need your help. I don't need you."

He had been organising the general's study one afternoon when you approached him with a small bundle of herbs, a remedy you had prepared for the minor ailment he had been ignoring. You handed it to him with a gentle smile, your eyes filled with genuine concern. Instead of reacting gratefully, his patience snapped.

Your smile faltered, but you held his gaze steadily. "I'm only trying to help, Jongho. You work so hard, and I thought—"

"Don't think, Miss Kwon," he cut you off, his tone icy. "Just do your job and leave me alone. And it's Assistant Choi to you."

For a moment, hurt flashed across your face, but you quickly masked it with a polite nod. "I understand. I apologise if I've overstepped."

Jongho watched you walk away, a strange emptiness settling in his chest. He had done what he needed to do, what he always did—push people away. Yet, for the first time, he felt a pang of regret.

Forget her. You did the right thing.

« Preview of Part 2 »

"You know, if she runs away or hands in her resignation letter because of you, I'll have you know there will be serious consequences for you." The general's deep voice startled his assistant, who was in the midst of dusting his bookshelves—or at least attempting to, as his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Seonghwa sighed. "I'm kidding, but I heard everything, you idiot. Care to tell me why you're being unusually harsh to her? We've had new people join before, and you've never acted like this."

To the older man's dismay, Jongho remained silent, unsure of how to respond. His usual sharp retorts were absent for once.

"You like her, don't you?" General Park asked.

The guilty look in the younger man's eyes was all it took to confirm the question. Seonghwa chuckled, smacking him on the back. "That's it? Why are you acting like it's the end of the world? Isn't this great? You finally found someone you like!"

"That's the problem, sir. I don't want this. I don't want any of it."

Hmm this didn't feel as emotionally damaging as promised, did it? Idek HAHA I honestly cannot tell, y'all let me know. You're probably surprised I dropped this on a Monday but it's another public holiday for us Malaysians today, yippee!

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[10yrsyart]

Luke 15:7, "There is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who were righteous and haven't strayed away!"

i was thinking about this verse recently and wondering.. how different it would be if people could see just how important they are to God. so important in fact that the Creator of the universe, an everlasting Being, came down Himself to experience death to set us free from Death. if you were the only human needing redemption, He would have gone through it all just for you.

it's up to you to accept or reject this payment on your behalf. there's no way to pay it yourself, you can never be "good enough" to make it to Heaven. He took on your punishment for you and only His sacrifice absolves you from it. if you reject Him, He will honor that decision, and you'll spend eternity separated from Him and all joy, light, and happiness. not because He's cruel, but because all good things stem from the Lord. there is no life without Jesus Christ.

the experience of the man in this comic is actually based on many testimonies i've listened to. people cried out to Jesus, and either saw or felt His love and were changed. don't wait! you have the entirety of Heaven cheering you on, longing for you to join our family. the hole in your heart can only be filled by the Holy Spirit's Presence. don't reject your opportunity to experience God's wonders forever, in a reality far greater than Earth could ever hope to be.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, so that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16)

transcript:

Saint 1: Quick! It's happening!

Man: (sighs)

Demon 1: Things aren't gonna get better, y'know? At least you're not believing in a fairy tale like them.

Demon 2: Reality, not delusion!

Demon 3: Only you can change your life. You're the master of your own destiny!

Man: I've tried everything, but I still feel empty...

Demon 1: Better than being trapped under a bunch of religious rules forever. Is that what you want?

Demon 2: You're worth nothing. You don't deserve any help.

Demon 3: Worthless, worthless~

Man: I'm so sick of this. It's all pointless.. I just want it to stop...

Demon 1: Yes, it's pointless!

Demon 2: Even if you call, no one will answer!

Demon 3: You might as well end it now. There's nothing in your future-

Man: Jesus!

Saint 2: HAH!

Saint 3: Yes!!

Demons (all): NO! No No No No No No No

Man: If you're real, prove it to me! I can't do this. Help me, I need you!

Saint 4: Yeaaaah!

Saint 5: That's right!

Saint 6: I love this part!

Saint 7: WOOOH! YESHUA!

Man: ..Forgive me.

Jesus: (smiles) Welcome home, My son.

Saint 8: He did it!!

Saint 9: Yes!

Saint 10: JESUS!!

Saint 11: Atta boy!

Angel 1: HAH! GOT'M!

Saint 12: Did you see that?!

Saint 13: A new family member!

Angel 2: Hallelujah!

Angel 3: Praise Yah!

Saint 14: Thank You.

Saint 15: I can't wait until he gets here!

Heavenly voices: Our Lord Jehovah! Hallelujah! Praise Yahweh forever! Holy Holy Holy. Yeshua our Savior! Is the Lord God Almighty.

Saint 7: WOOOH! YESHUA!!

God the Father: (smiles)

Man: ...I don't feel empty.

[meanqueens]

The Real Alicent Hightower

(or, a compilation of every passage in George R. R. Martin’s “Fire and Blood” pertaining to her character)

(unless i missed something, in which case please let me know and i can update this post!)

disclaimer: my goal was not to include every time her name was mentioned, but rather to highlight everything that could be indicative of her actual character (i.e. things that she did or were done to/said about her). for full contexts and details regarding other characters, i highly recommend reading F&B yourself.

Heirs of the Dragon—A Question of Succession

“Ser Otto brought his wife and children to court with him, and served King Jaehaerys faithfully for the years remaining to him. As the Old King’s strength and wits began to fail, he was oft confined to his bed. Ser Otto’s precocious fifteen-year-old daughter, Alicent, became his constant companion, fetching His Grace his meals, reading to him, helping him to bathe and dress himself. The Old King sometimes mistook her for one of his daughters, calling her by their names; near the end, he grew certain she was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea. In the year 103 AC King Jaehaerys I Targaryen died in his bed as Lady Alicent was reading to him from Septon Barth’s Unnatural History.” “Another woman had caught his eye. He announced his intention to wed Lady Alicent of House Hightower, the clever and lovely eighteen-year-old daughter of the King’s Hand, the girl who had read to King Jaehaerys as he lay dying. The Hightowers of Oldtown were an ancient and noble family, of impeccable lineage; there could be no possible objection to the king’s choice of bride. Even so, there were those who murmured that the Hand had risen above himself, that he had brought his daughter to court with this in mind. A few even cast doubt on Lady Alicent’s virtue, suggesting she had welcomed King Viserys into her bed even before Queen Aemma’s death. (These calumnies were never proved, though Mushroom repeats them in his Testimony and goes so far as to claim that reading was not the only service Lady Alicent performed for the Old King in his bedchamber.)”

“When King Viserys took Alicent Hightower to wife in 106 AC, House Velaryon was notable for its absence. Princess Rhaenyra poured for her stepmother at the feast, and Queen Alicent kissed her and named her “daughter.” The princess was amongst the women who disrobed the king and delivered him to the bedchamber of his bride.” "...mummers and singers heralded the birth of each new Targaryen princeling. Queen Alicent had soon proved to be as fertile as she was pretty. In 107 AC, she bore the king a healthy son, naming him Aegon, after the Conqueror. Two years later, she produced a daughter for the king, Helaena; in 110 AC, she bore him a second son, Aemond, who was said to be half the size of his elder brother, but twice as fierce." "“Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?” Queen Alicent asked one day at court. The amity between Her Grace and her stepdaughter had proved short-lived, for both Rhaenyra and Alicent aspired to be the first lady of the realm…and though the queen had given the king not one but two male heirs, Viserys had done nothing to change the order of succession." "Still, questions persisted, not the least from Queen Alicent herself. Loudest amongst her supporters was her father, Ser Otto Hightower, Hand of the King." "Even after Ser Otto had returned to Oldtown, a “queen’s party” still existed at court; a group of powerful lords friendly to Queen Alicent and supportive of the rights of her sons. Against them was pitted the “party of the princess.” King Viserys loved both his wife and daughter, and hated conflict and contention. He strove all his days to keep the peace between his women, and to please both with gifts and gold and honors."

"In 111 AC, a great tourney was held at King’s Landing on the fifth anniversary of the king’s marriage to Queen Alicent. At the opening feast, the queen wore a green gown, whilst the princess dressed dramatically in Targaryen red and black. Note was taken, and thereafter it became the custom to refer to “greens” and “blacks” when talking of the queen’s party and the party of the princess, respectively. In the tourney itself, the blacks had much the better of it when Ser Criston Cole, wearing Princess Rhaenyra’s favor, unhorsed all of the queen’s champions, including two of her cousins and her youngest brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower."

"Though [Daemon] treated Queen Alicent with all the courtesy due her station, there was no warmth between them, and men said that the prince was notably cool toward her children, especially his nephews, Aegon and Aemond, whose birth had pushed him still lower in the order of succession."

"...entertained [Rhaenyra] by making mock of the greens at court, the “lickspittles” fawning over Queen Alicent and her children."

"Others assert that it was at Queen Alicent’s urging that Viserys sent Daemon away."

"Queen Alicent had her own candidate: her eldest son, Prince Aegon, Rhaenyra’s half-brother. But Aegon was a boy, the princess ten years his elder. Moreover, the two half-siblings had never gotten on well. “All the more reason to bind them together in marriage,” the queen argued. Viserys did not agree. “The boy is Alicent’s own blood,” he told Lord Strong. “She wants him on the throne.”"

"(The princess always took care to refer to Queen Alicent’s sons as half-brothers, never as brothers.)"

"Denied Rhaenyra’s favor, Criston Cole turned to Queen Alicent instead. Wearing her token, the young Lord Commander of the Kingsguard defeated all challengers, fighting in a black fury."

"King Viserys was most wroth as well; a joyous celebration had become the occasion of grief and recrimination. It was said that Queen Alicent did not share his displeasure, however; soon after, she asked that Ser Criston Cole be made her personal protector. The coolness between the king’s wife and the king’s daughter was plain for all to see; even envoys from the Free Cities made note of it in letters sent back to Pentos, Braavos, and Old Volantis."

"The court was still rejoicing over the birth of the princess’s child when her stepmother, Queen Alicent, also went into labor, delivering Viserys his third son, Daeron…whose coloring, unlike that of Jace, testified to his dragon blood. By royal command, the infants Jacaerys Velaryon and Daeron Targaryen shared a wet nurse until weaned. It was Said that the king hoped to prevent any enmity between the two boys by raising them as milk brothers. If so, his hopes proved to be sadly forlorn."

"...King Viserys was delighted with him when the child was presented at court. These feelings were not shared by his queen. “Do keep trying,” Queen Alicent told Ser Laenor, according to Mushroom, “soon or late, you may get one who looks like you.” And the rivalry between the greens and blacks grew deeper, finally reaching the point where the queen and the princess could scarce suffer each other’s presence. Thereafter Queen Alicent kept to the Red Keep, whilst the princess spent her days on Dragonstone..."

"According to Mushroom, this only served to deepen her resentment of her stepmother, Queen Alicent, who remained slender and graceful at half again her age. The sins of the fathers are oft visited on the sons, wise men have said; and so it is for the sins of mothers as well. The enmity between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra was passed on to their sons, and the queen’s three boys, the Princes Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron, grew to be bitter rivals of their Velaryon nephews, resentful of them for having stolen what they regarded as their birthright: the Iron Throne itself."

"His father and mother would never allow him to go near Vhagar, Aemond knew, much less try to ride her. So he made certain they did not know..."

"...these courtesies did not appease their vengeful mothers. Queen Alicent demanded that one of Lucerys Velaryon’s eyes should be put out, for the eye he had cost Aemond. Princess Rhaenyra would have none of that, but insisted that Prince Aemond should be questioned “sharply”..."

"His Grace further commanded his wife and daughter to kiss and exchange vows of love and affection. But their false smiles and empty words deceived no one but the king."

"King Viserys further decreed that Queen Alicent and her sons would return with him to court, whilst Princess Rhaenyra confined herself to Dragonstone with her sons."

"...bringing the princess and her sons back to King’s Landing, where more conflict with the queen and her own brood would have been inevitable."

"In King’s Landing, however, Queen Alicent grew most wroth when she learned the babe had been named Aegon, taking that for a slight against her own son Aegon…which, according to The Testimony of Mushroom, it most certainly was."

"The princess and the queen were both commanded to attend, with all their children. In a show of amity, each woman wore the other’s color and many declarations of love were made, to the king’s great pleasure. Prince Daemon raised a cup to Ser Otto Hightower and thanked him for his leal service as Hand. Ser Otto in turn spoke of the prince’s courage, whilst Alicent’s children and Rhaenyra’s greeted one another with kisses and broke bread together at table. Or so the court chronicles record."

"Queen Alicent, however, insisted that the princess and her maester had mutilated His Grace unnecessarily. Had they not “meddled,” she claimed, Grand Maester Mellos would surely have saved the king’s fingers as well as his life. She urged the appointment of one Maester Alfador, presently in service at the Hightower. Viserys, beset from both sides, chose neither, reminding both the princess and the queen that the choice was not his to make."

The Dying of the Dragons—The Blacks and the Greens

"The servant ran to inform Queen Alicent, whose apartments were on the floor below the king’s. Septon Eustace, writing on these events some years later, points out that the manservant delivered his dire tidings directly to the queen, and her alone, without raising a general alarum. Eustace does not believe this was wholly fortuitous; the king’s death had been anticipated for some time, he argues, and Queen Alicent and her party, the so-called greens, had taken care to instruct all of Viserys’s guards and servants in what to do when the day came. (The dwarf Mushroom suggests a more sinister scenario, whereby Queen Alicent hurried King Viserys on his way with a pinch of poison in his hippocras. It must be noted that Mushroom was not in King’s Landing the night the king died, but rather on Dragonstone, in service with Princess Rhaenyra.) Queen Alicent went at once to the king’s bedchamber, accompanied by Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Once they had confirmed that Viserys was dead, Her Grace ordered his room sealed and placed under guard. The serving man who had found the king’s body was taken into custody, to make certain he did not spread the tale. Ser Criston returned to White Sword Tower and sent his brothers of the Kingsguard to summon the members of the king’s small council. It was the hour of the owl."

"The council convened in the queen’s apartments within Maegor’s Holdfast."

"Gathering in the queen’s chambers as the body of her lord husband grew cold above were Queen Alicent herself..."

"“Mayhaps Her Grace the queen would care to write the message, so as to soften these sad tidings with some words of condolence?”"

"“King,” insisted Queen Alicent. “The Iron Throne by rights must pass to His Grace’s eldest trueborn son.”"

"“My own head will be the first cut off, I do not doubt, but your queen, my daughter, will soon follow.” Queen Alicent echoed him. “Nor will they spare my children,” she declared. “Aegon and his brothers are the king’s trueborn sons, with a better claim to the throne than her brood of bastards. Daemon will find some pretext to put them all to death. Even Helaena and her little ones. One of these Strongs put out Aemond’s eye, never forget. He was a boy, aye, but the boy is the father to the man, and bastards are monstrous by nature.”"

"“Mayhaps the whore will die in childbirth,” Queen Alicent is reported to have said (according to Mushroom)."

"And so each of the conspirators slashed their palms and clasped hands with one another, swearing brotherhood. Queen Alicent alone amongst them was excused from the oath, on account of her womanhood. Dawn was breaking over the city before Queen Alicent dispatched the Kingsguard to bring her sons Aegon and Aemond to the council. (Prince Daeron, the youngest and gentlest of her children, was in Oldtown, serving as Lord Hightower’s squire.)"

"Ravens flew, but not to Dragonstone. They went instead to Oldtown, to Casterly Rock, to Riverrun, to Highgarden, and to many other lords and knights whom Queen Alicent had cause to think might be sympathetic to her son."

"“Then we must see that [Borros Baratheon] leads [the lesser storm lords] to our king,” Queen Alicent declared. Whereupon she sent for her second son."

"...Queen Alicent knew they could delay no longer. Prince Aegon had grown weary of secrecy. “Am I a king or no?” he demanded of his mother. “If I am king, then crown me.”"

"His mother, Queen Alicent, beloved of the smallfolk, placed her own crown upon the head of her daughter, Helaena, Aegon’s wife and sister. After kissing her cheeks, the mother knelt before the daughter, bowed her head, and said, “My Queen.”"

"...Queen Alicent had ordered Viserys’s crown locked away..."

"The princess shrieked curses all through her labor, calling down the wrath of the gods upon her half-brothers and their mother, the queen, and detailing the torments she would inflict upon them before she would let them die."

"[Rhaenyra's] first act as queen was to declare Ser Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent traitors and rebels."

"But when the two queens—his mother, Queen Alicent, and his wife, Queen Helaena— spoke in favor of Orwyle’s proposal, the truculent king gave way reluctantly. So Grand Maester Orwyle was dispatched across Blackwater Bay under a peace banner..."

The Dying of the Dragons—A Son for a Son

"Queen Alicent went pale when she heard what [Aemond] had done, crying, “Mother have mercy on us all.”"

"Unbeknownst to King Aegon, the Hand, or the Queen Dowager, [Daemon] had allies at court as well, even on the green council…"

"Instead they slipped into [Otto's] daughter’s chambers, one floor below. Queen Alicent had taken up residence there after the death of King Viserys, when her son Aegon moved into Maegor’s Holdfast with his own queen. Once inside, Cheese bound and gagged the Dowager Queen whilst Blood strangled her bedmaid. Then they settled down to wait, for they knew it was the custom of Queen Helaena to bring her children to see their grandmother every evening before bed."

"As they entered the apartments, Helaena was holding his little hand and calling out her mother’s name."

"Queen Alicent had commanded Larys Clubfoot to learn [Blood's] true name, so that she might bathe in the blood of his wife and children, but our sources do not say if this occurred."

"The king had no recourse but to take the boy from [Helaena] and give him over to their mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent, to raise as if he were her own."

The Dying of the Dragons—The Red Dragon and the Gold

"Though his mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent, spoke up in Ser Otto’s defense, His Grace turned a deaf ear to her pleading."

"...thousands left King’s Landing afterward, until the Dowager Queen Alicent ordered the city gates closed and barred."

"None was allowed to disturb [Aegon II's] rest, save his mother the Queen Dowager and his Hand, Ser Criston Cole."

"The Queen Dowager favored caution as well, urging her son to wait until his brother the king and his dragon, Sunfyre the Golden, were healed, so they might join the attack."

"...it fell to his mother, the Queen Dowager, to see to the city’s defenses. Queen Alicent rose to the challenge, closing the gates of castle and city, sending the gold cloaks to the walls, and dispatching riders on swift horses to find Prince Aemond and fetch him back. As well, she commanded Grand Maester Orwyle to send ravens to “all our leal lords,” summoning them to the defense of their true king."

"Queen Alicent’s riders got no farther than the gates, where more gold cloaks took them into custody. Unbeknownst to Her Grace, the seven captains commanding the gates, chosen for their loyalty to King Aegon, had been imprisoned or murdered the moment Caraxes appeared in the sky above the Red Keep..."

"Upon seeing that resistance was hopeless, the Dowager Queen Alicent emerged from Maegor’s Holdfast with her father, Ser Otto Hightower..."

"...Queen Alicent attempted to treat with her stepdaughter. “Let us together summon a great council, as the Old King did in days of old,” said the Dowager Queen, “and lay the matter of succession before the lords of the realm.” But Queen Rhaenyra rejected the proposal with scorn. “Do you mistake me for Mushroom?” she asked. “We both know how this council would rule.” Then she bade her stepmother choose: yield or burn. Bowing her head in defeat, Queen Alicent surrendered the keys to the castle and ordered her knights and men-at-arms to lay down their swords. “The city is yours, Princess,” she is reported to have said, “but you will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.”"

"Not even the Dowager Queen seemed to know where [Aegon II, Jaehaera, Maelor, Willis Fell, Rickard Thorne] had gone..."

The Dying of the Dragons—Rhaenyra Triumphant

"Queen Alicent was fettered at wrist and ankle with golden chains, though her stepdaughter spared her life “for the sake of our father, who loved you once.” Her own father was less fortunate."

"The Sea Snake proposed to let the Faith take charge of Dowager Queen Alicent and Queen Helaena, so that they might spend the remainder of their lives in prayer and contemplation."

"Words of these plans soon reached the ears of the Dowager Queen, filling her with terror. Fearing for her sons, Queen Alicent went to the Iron Throne upon her knees, to plead for peace. This time the Queen in Chains put forth the notion that the realm might be divided; Rhaenyra would keep King’s Landing and the crownlands, the North, the Vale of Arryn, all the lands watered by the Trident, and the isles. To Aegon II would go the stormlands, the westerlands, and the Reach, to be ruled from Oldtown. Rhaenyra rejected her stepmother’s proposal with scorn. “Your sons might have had places of honor at my court if they had kept faith,” Her Grace declared, “but they sought to rob me of my birthright, and the blood of my sweet sons is on their hands.” “Bastard blood, shed at war,” Alicent replied. “My son’s sons were innocent boys, cruelly murdered. How many more must die to slake your thirst for vengeance?” The Dowager Queen’s words only fanned the fire of Rhaenyra’s wroth. “I will hear no more lies,” she warned. “Speak again of bastardy, and I will have your tongue out.” Or so the tale is told by Septon Eustace. Munkun says the same in his True Telling. Here again Mushroom differs. The dwarf would have us believe that Rhaenyra ordered her stepmother’s tongue torn out at once, rather than merely threatening this. It was only a word from Lady Misery that stayed her hand, the fool insists; the White Worm proposed another, crueler punishment. King Aegon’s wife and mother were taken in chains to a certain brothel, and there sold to any man who wished to have his pleasure of them. The price was high; a golden dragon for Queen Alicent, three dragons for Queen Helaena, who was younger and more beautiful. Yet Mushroom says there were many in the city who thought that cheap for carnal knowledge of a queen. “Let them remain there until they are with child,” Lady Misery is purported to have said. “They speak of bastards so freely, let them each have one for their very own.”"

"...word of battle and betrayal at Tumbleton had reached King’s Landing. It is said the Dowager Queen Alicent laughed when she heard. “All they have sowed, now shall they reap,” she promised."

The Dying of the Dragons—Rhaenyra Overthrown

"If Rhaenyra were intent on murder, surely it would have been the Dowager Queen Alicent flung down onto the spikes."

"When Dowager Queen Alicent was informed of her daughter’s passing, she rent her garments and pronounced a dire curse upon her rival."

"Both were on hand the next day to bear witness as Ser Perkin’s gangling squire Trystane mounted the Iron Throne. So too was the Queen Dowager, Alicent of House Hightower."

The Dying of the Dragons—The Short, Sad Reign of Aegon II

"And so the Clubfoot was dispatched across the river under a flag of truce, accompanied by Grand Maester Orwyle and the Dowager Queen Alicent."

"There Queen Alicent received the glad news that her grandaughter Jaehaera, the only surviving child of her son Aegon and daughter Helaena, had been delivered safely to Storm’s End by Ser Willis Fell of the Kingsguard. The Dowager Queen wept tears of joy. Betrayals and betrothals followed, until an accord was reached between Lord Borros, Lord Larys, and Queen Alicent, with Grand Maester Orwyle as witness."

"Queen Alicent agreed that her son King Aegon would make Lady Cassandra, Lord Borros’s eldest daughter, his new queen."

"“[Corlys Velaryon] is traitor thrice over,” Queen Alicent said. “Rhaenyra could never have taken King’s Landing but for him. His Grace my son will not have forgotten. I want him dead.”"

"...the golden dragon banner of King Aegon II raised in their stead. Queen Alicent herself emerged from the Red Keep to bid [Borros Baratheon] welcome, with Ser Perkin the Flea beside her."

"Queen Alicent proclaimed a curfew, making it unlawful to be on the city streets after dark."

"Behind the walls of the Red Keep, the Dowager Queen Alicent and Lord Larys Strong had offered the Sea Snake his freedom, a full pardon for his treasons, and a place on the king’s small council if he would bend his knee to Aegon II as his king and deliver them the swords and sails of Driftmark."

"Queen Alicent was outraged by Lord Velaryon’s “arrogance,” Munkun tells us, especially his demand that Queen Rhaenyra’s Aegon be named as heir to her own Aegon. She had suffered the loss of two of her three sons and her only daughter during the Dance, and could not bear the thought that any of her rival’s sons should live. Angrily, Her Grace reminded Lord Corlys that she had twice proposed terms of peace to Rhaenyra, only to have her overtures rejected with scorn. It fell to Lord Larys the Clubfoot to pour oil on the troubled waters, calming the queen with a quiet reminder of all they had discussed in Lord Baratheon’s tent, and persuading her to consent to the Sea Snake’s proposals. The next day Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, knelt before Queen Alicent as she sat upon the lower steps of the Iron Throne, as proxy for her son, and there pledged the king his loyalty and that of his house. Before the eyes of gods and men, the Queen Dowager granted him and his a royal pardon, and restored him to his old place on the small council, as admiral and master of ships."

"Urged on by his mother, the Queen Dowager Alicent, Aegon II was determined to exact vengeance upon those who had betrayed and deposed him."

"If the rebels could flaunt a dragon and the loyalists could not, Queen Alicent pointed out, smallfolk might see their foes as more legitimate."

"Queen Alicent had reluctantly agreed to the betrothal of her granddaughter to Rhaenyra’s son, but she had done so without the king’s consent. Aegon II had other ideas."

"When Queen Alicent demured, wondering aloud how Lord Corlys could possibly be won back after all that had been said that day, Lord Strong replied, “That task you may leave to me, Your Grace. His lordship will listen to me, I daresay.”"

"His mother entertained no such hope. “You fed [Aegon III's] mother to your dragon,” she reminded her son. “The boy saw it all.” The king turned to her desperately. “What would you have me do?” “You have hostages,” the Queen Dowager replied. “Cut off one of the boy’s ears and send it to Lord Tully. Warn them he will lose another part for every mile they advance.”"

"Queen Alicent was arrested on the serpentine steps as she made her way back to her chambers. Her captors wore the seahorse of House Velaryon upon their doublets, and though they slew the two men guarding her, they did no harm to the Dowager Queen herself, nor to her ladies. The Queen in Chains was chained again and taken to the dungeons, there to await the pleasure of the new king. By then the last of her sons was already dead."

Aftermath—The Hour of the Wolf

"Within the Red Keep, the Lads found the dead king’s body laid out upon a bier beneath the Iron Throne, with his mother, Queen Alicent, weeping beside it."

"The realm’s new rulers found themselves divided on the question of what to do with the Dowager Queen Alicent, but elsewise all seemed in accord, and good fellowship reigned…for the best part of a fortnight."

"...men placed wagers on how long the Clubfoot, the Sea Snake, the Flea, and the Dowager Queen would keep their heads."

"The men who had seized the Queen Dowager upon the serpentine steps had worn the seahorse badge of House Velaryon..."

"Queen Alicent’s captors had slain her guards and were thus condemned to death..."

Under the Regents—The Hooded Hand

"And the more observant made note of another absence. The Dowager Queen was nowhere to be seen, though as Jaehaera’s grandmother, Alicent Hightower ought to have been present."

"A more immediate problem was posed by the Dowager Queen, who refused to reconcile herself to the new king. The murder of the last of her sons had turned Alicent’s heart into a stone. None of the regents wished to see her put to death, some from compassion, others for fear that such an execution might rekindle the flames of war. Yet she could not be allowed to take part in the life of the court as before. She was too apt to rain down curses on the king, or snatch a dagger from some unwary guardsman. Alicent could not even be trusted in the company of the little queen; when last allowed to share a meal with Her Grace, she had told Jaehaera to cut her husband’s throat whilst he was sleeping, which set the child to screaming. Ser Tyland felt he had no choice but to confine the Queen Dowager to her own apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast; a gentle imprisonment, but imprisonment nonetheless."

"One death may have been a mercy. The Dowager Queen Alicent of House Hightower, second wife of King Viserys I and mother to his sons, Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron, and his daughter Helaena, died on the same night as Lord Westerling, after confessing her sins to her septa. She had outlived all of her children and spent the last year of her life confined to her apartments, with no company but her septa, the serving girls who brought her food, and the guards outside her door. Books were given her, and needles and thread, but her guards said Alicent spent more time weeping than reading or sewing. One day she ripped all her clothing into pieces. By the end of the year she had taken to talking to herself, and had come to have a deep aversion to the color green. In her last days the Queen Dowager seemed to become more lucid. “I want to see my sons again,” she told her septa, “and Helaena, my sweet girl, oh…and King Jaehaerys. I will read to him, as I did when I was little. He used to say I had a lovely voice.” (Strangely, in her final hours Queen Alicent spoke often of the Old King, but never of her husband, King Viserys.) The Stranger came for her on a rainy night, at the hour of the wolf."

[kydrogendragon]

Hob stares down at the small medicinal tube in his hands. He has been staring at it now for nearly an hour, and the ripple of excitement still runs through him. He takes a breath and unscrew the cap. The scent hits his nose immediately, and it's not...unpleasant, not really, but it certainly is strong. He squeezes a small dollop onto the pad of his finger and presses it against the under-responsive scent glands.

He knows, from his doctor and testimonials on the internet and even from friends he knows that the effects aren't instant. It's a gradual process, one that will take time, and yet the moment the cream is absorbed into his skin, Hob just feels better. He feels right.

Hob screws the cap back on and sets it down on the sink, beside his toothbrush and razor, ready for daily use. He looks up into the mirror and smiles.

It takes less time than he expects for Dream to notice. He's now been two months on A as of last Friday, and he's starting to notice changes (finally!) Nothing major, mainly that his scent glands have gotten more noticeable—to him, that is. They've started to itch in a way they never have before. And his sense of smell has gotten sharper too. The first time, he caught a wiff of Dream's scent from inside the crowded bar and knew it was him? Hob was ecstatic. So it shouldn't come as too big of a surprise when Dream stares at him with an even sharper gaze than usual when he answers the door.

Hob stands, bag of take-out in one hand, and a copy of the extended Lord of the Rings movies in the other. Dream looks him up and down, his nostrils flaring. Hob wonders, perhaps a bit tok late, if his scent is finally beginning to change as well now.

"You..." Dream starts, then shakes his head. "Come in."

Hob blinks but steps through, making his way to their usual movie spot in the living room of Dream's flat. "Mrs. Chen tossed in an order of samosas for you again," he says, untying the thin plastic bag handles. He hears the telltale sound of drinks being prepared in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Chen is simply determined to fatten me up," Dream calls back. Hob chuckles as he sets out the containers of food, then sets the DVD case on the television stand.

While Dream's still preoccupied, Hob takes a moment and wipes his hand across his scent glands, and takes a whiff. It's stronger, perhaps, than usual, but it still smells like him, he thinks. Maybe he just stinks in general, and Dream was being polite and not saying anything. He has been sweating a lot more since being on HRT.

He hums and settles into his usual spot on the couch.

[Transition stuff. They're chatting/watching the movie, ect.]

"Have you started seeing someone?" Dream asks him right as the screen prompts them to put in disk two. Hob whips his head back to find Dream staring at him with that piercing gaze once more.

"No? Why?"

"Because you do not smell like yourself." Dream's eyes narrow. Hob's heart jumps in his chest. Shit. Maybe he's gotten a bit nose blind to his own scent.

"I'm not seeing anyone, I promise. I'd tell you if I was." Dream eyes him a moment longer before huffing and turning back to the screen.

"I am not a fragile thing, Hob Gadling," Dream says coolly. "I will survive if you have found a possible mate. It is not as if I am some—some charge you are responsible for, that if you leave, I will shatter. Despite what my sister might claim."

"Dream—"

"And if you have found an alpha you are happy with, then I will be... happy—" his tone is anything but "—for you. But you needn't lie to me when I can smell their scent all over you."

"Their scent..." Hob's hand trails up to his neck, palm resting just above his itching gland.

"Yes. You reek of it. It permeates from you as if you have drowned yourself in it." Dream stands, stepping towards the DVD player but not quite finishing the small journey there. "I will understand if you find yourself with less time for me because of it. It is only natural to want to spend time with the one that makes you happy," he adds on, voice smaller than before.

Hob stands and reaches out, grabbing a hold of Dream's arm. He tenses in Hob's hold but doesn't turn, nor does he pull away.

"Dream, I—There's something I need to tell you." Dream takes a deep breath in as if preparing himself for the inevitable. "I should have told you sooner, I just...I didn't know what you'd think.

"I'm not seeing anyone, that's true, but you're right. This scent you're smelling is new. Guess I've been nose blind to it lately. But it's not anyone else's. It's...it's mine. Well, my new scent, I guess. For this moment of time. It might keep changing, I'm not really sure."

Dream angles his head to stare at Hob from the corners of his eyes, his face confused. Hob smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm transitioning. To an alpha. S'why I smell different. And why a whole bunch of other things about me might soon be...different."

Hob waits. Dream just stares. He can practically see the gears turning in his friend's head.

"Why were you afraid of telling me this?"

Hob lets Dream's arm go and slots his hands in his pockets. He looks down as he speaks. "Dunno. I know after Alex—" Hob sees Dream's muscles in his leg twitch at the name "—you weren't...I thought..." Hob sighs, neck tensing as he struggles against the persistent nagging fear lodged in his chest. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I didn't want to scare you off or lose you because you couldn't feel comfortable around me anymore."

"Do you truly believe me to be so weak?"

"That's not what I meant. You're not weak, I've never thought you were weak, Dream. But you can be uncomfortable. I can count the number of alphas you're fine with in close quarters on one hands and three of them are your own family."

"And why would you think you would not immediately be added to that list?"

Hob inhales, breath catching partway. "I...I don't know. Didn't want to presume? Thought maybe you'd find my new scent unbearable or something."

Dream shakes his head. "You are a fool, Hob Gadling." He turns to him fully, eyeing him no longer with doubt or concern, but with a new hunger in his eyes. His nostrils flare again as he takes in Hob's scent properly. Hob smiles when he hears the quiet happy trill in Dream's chest.

"Acceptable smell then?"

"Quite," Dream replies, stepping closer. "In fact, it is possibly the best scent I've smelled from an alpha before."

Hob's heart sings as Dream calls him an alpha. It's the first time he's heard it from someone he knows, someone who's not a doctor or pharmacist. It feels good. Feels right. And then Dream's leaning closer, and Hob can feel his soft cheek against Hob's neck, and his body flares at the touch. Dream rubs his cheek against his skin, scenting him, letting their scents combine.

Hob takes a deep breath and is smacked by a nose full of Dream. It's intoxicating. It's rich and smooth like silk. And it's doing something to his mind that it never did before. His instincts scream at him, tell him to hold, to touch, to claim. His skin ripples with anticipation, and it's torture. And it's this that he was afraid of. That he wouldn't be used to the instincts that come with being an alpha, that he wouldn't be able to resist or wouldn't be used to stopping himself.

He steps back, pushing Dream back by his shoulders. His hands dig into Dream's shirt, and when he sees the hurt expression on his face, Hob wants nothing more than to pull him back close, to comfort his omega.

No. Not his.

"I'm sorry, I..." Hob grimaces as he drops his hands and wraps them around his chest as if it would somehow quell the utter need to bite and to mate. "I should go, I—I don't want to accidentally hurt you."

"What is wrong?"

Hob growls, heat beginning to rise in him "Fuck," he hisses. "I think it's a damn rut. Well. A pre-rut, technically. Not a true one but—" he's cut off as a sharp lance to his side causes him to gasp. He stpes back, falling into the couch. When he looks back up, Dream's eyes are dark.

"That is what I smelled on you. Rut. Or the start of it. No wonder your scent was so strong. Is this your first?" Dream closes the distance, standing between Hob's legs, which does nothing to help the deaire to pull him down into his lap and ravish him.

"Technically," he replies, breathing growing shorter. "It won't last as long, at least it shouldn't. Maybe a day max. But they'll start more frequently until I get my first actual rut." Hob growls once more as that lance of pain shoots through him again.

"Fucking hell," he yells. "Do your heats hurt like this?"

"Sometimes, yes. Though, it is easier if shared with a partner."

Hob squeezes his eyes tight as he rides out the wave of pain. "Yeah? Guess I'm shit out of luck then."

There are hands on his knees, slowly pulling his legs apart. When he opens his eyes, he sees Dream knelt between them looking predatory. "Not quite. I am here, after all."

Hob's breath catches in his throat. "Dream—"

"I know you do not want me for a mate, but it is not uncommon for friends to help one another through ruts and heats—"

"—the fuck do you mean I don't want you for a mate?" Hob cries, his hands cupping Dream's face. Clearly this was not what he expected Hob to say because Dream kneels there, blinking for a moment before continuing.

"You...do? Wish me as a mate?"

Hob laughs. Dream scowls, but Hob just leans forward and presses a light kiss to his forehead. "I've wanted you for years now, Dream."

[They figure their shit out briefly]

[Then Dream rides Hob like a goddamn professional bull-rider. Hob's never come so much in his life. And he even gets the barest hint of a knot going. Dream compliments it and tells Hob he fills him so well, that he can't wait to get Hob's final knot in him and how he looks forward to going on this journey with Hob as well.]

[queerstake]

Good morning, Queerstake! Thank you to everyone joining us for our community fast and letter writing campaign in response to the 2024 Church Handbook update with regards to transgender people. The policy update has shaken all of us. It is exclusionary and degrading. But we will find strength in each other as a community and courage in our efforts to effect change in this church that belongs not only to the General Authorities who authorized this policy update but also to all of us. Change in the Church happens from the ground up. Harmful policies have been issued and redacted before in our own lifetimes! We deserve to be treated with respect.

Today, we will fast together as a community that the Lord softens the hearts of the First Presidency. We will also write and send letters expressing our grief. Please don’t be quiet about your feelings today. Share your heartbreak with as many of your fellow ward and Queerstake members as you feel comfortable doing. Please post your feelings as well so we can inspire and uplift each other as we write our letters. It’s important that our grievances are heard.

Please send physical letters to:

The Office of the First Presidency

47 East South Temple Street

Salt Lake City, UT 84150

If you are unable to send a paper letter to Salt Lake, because I was not able to find an appropriate email, please instead email your letters to me at QUEERSTAKEONTUMBLR@GMAIL.COM. I’ll print and mail them myself.

Edit: @nerdygaymormon found an email address! Please feel free to send email to lgbt@churchofjesuschrist.org. However, you are still more than welcome to send them to me to print. In fact, why not do both!

A quick word of caution: Of course, no one can guarantee the type of responses we might receive for these letters. In fact, I urge you to consider using a pseudonym in order to avoid potential church discipline. Please take care to note what legal name or return address might be associated with your membership records. I don’t want to scare anyone, especially because we’re doing nothing wrong, but it’s always good to be very aware of what might make it back to your bishop.

Thank you again to everyone for joining. I’ve always felt so supported and uplifted by Queerstake. I know that our Heavenly Parents love us just as we are and that they don’t want us excluded and humiliated in our wards. We have unique and valuable testimonies to share. We don’t go unheard by our Heavenly Parents.

I’ve included a few sample letters and templates below the cut for people who might need a shortcut for one reason or another. You are welcome to send them verbatim or modify them.

#1

Dear First Presidency,

I'm writing to express my grief and concern over the 2024 handbook policy update on transgender people.

I believe that Christ invites all to come unto him and that as Christ's church, we have a responsibility to embrace people from all walks of life. No other demographic within the church is being treated with such severity as our transgender siblings under this new policy. I fear our transgender siblings in Christ will feel excluded and degraded, and we will lose many great members.

I believe it's of the utmost importance that we express Christlike love and charity even to people we don't understand. There is no excuse for asking transgender youth to leave activities with their peers as though they are a danger. There is no excuse for not allowing transgender people to work with children or humiliating them in our bathrooms. This is a demographic of people who have suffered in our society and Christ would want us to reach out to them with open arms. I humbly and respectfully ask that you reconsider these policy changes with regards to the doctrine of unconditional love that the church espouses. I beg you to consider the church experience of our transgender siblings in Christ and to prioritize their feelings over the feelings of people that wish to hurt them.

Thank you for your time.

#2

Dear First Presidency,

I feel deeply grieved by the Handbook update on transgender people. As a transgender member myself, I am doing everything I can to remain in the church and exclusionary policies like these make me feel deeply unwanted and deeply unloved.

I understand very well the church's position on gender, but I hope that despite that position that I might still be able to feel Christ's love at church. Our Heavenly Parents put me on this or Earth as a transgender person. I am not a danger to children and I am not a predator in bathrooms. I am your sibling in Christ. I want to serve in church. I want to serve in teaching positions. I want to serve the youth. I believe that we attend church with the purpose of uplifting each other and studying our religion together as a ward family. I want to be edified and I want to edify.

President Hinckley said every member needs a calling, a friend, and the word of God, and if I'm treated this way at church, I'm not receiving any of those things. If I can't have a real role to play within my ward, then I have no responsibility. If I am treated as an outsider and an enemy and a predator by policy and by my fellow church members, then I don't have a friend. If I can't also receive Christ's gospel through the love of the people around me, then I'm not receiving the real word of the Lord.

I seriously urge you to reconsider this policy update. I beg you on behalf of myself and my transgender siblings in the church to not hate us and to not exclude us.

Thank you for your time.

#3

Dear First Presidency,

I felt ______ when I heard about the new policy update to the handbook about transgender individuals. I believe we should treat our transgender members with the love and respect they deserve as our siblings in Christ.

I urge you to reconsider this policy update because ______

Thank you for your time.

#4

Dear Leadership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints,

I'm writing to express my grief and concern over the 2024 handbook policy update on transgender people, which I have been made aware of due to the negative impact it is having on my [friend(s)/family/loved ones].

The reputation of love, kindness, and family values that your church fosters with its programs, teachings, and community outreach is undermined by your continued exclusion of LGBT+ members and specifically with this policy change of your transgender members.

My [friend(s)/family/loved ones] have expressed _____ in regards to the August 19, 2024 changes to the handbook that relegate transgender members of your church to second-class citizens within the organization, and deny them the full capacity of worship and belonging within your church; all because of something so insignificant to their capacity to worship and belong to a community as their gender being different than the gender that they were assigned at birth. This decision _____ me/ negatively impacts my view of your church.

Thank you for your time.

I believe that there is no excuse for asking transgender youth to leave activities with their peers as though they are a danger. There is no excuse for not allowing transgender people to work with children or humiliating them in your bathrooms. This is a demographic of people who have suffered in our society and I believe that every person needs to reach out to them with open arms. I respectfully ask that you reconsider these policy changes with regards to the doctrine of unconditional love that the church espouses. I beg you to consider the church experience of your transgender members and to prioritize their feelings over the feelings of people that wish to hurt them.

[prolifeproliberty]

Martin Luther’s 95 Theses

On October 31st, 1517, Martin Luther published his “Disputation on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences” (the 95 Theses). There is debate on whether he actually nailed them to the church door, and whether that occurred on the 31st if it happened at all. Posting an academic disputation on church doors was customary - and in fact at the time was required by the university in Wittenberg. The 95 Theses were written in Latin and sent to various people who Luther wanted included in the discussion, such as the Archbishop of Mainz, Albert of Brandenburg.

Luther’s nailing of the 95 Theses, if it happened at all, was not an act of protest. It was a standard protocol for a university professor who wanted a debate. It is the reaction of the Pope that turned an academic debate into what is now referred to as “The Protestant Reformation.”

The preface to the 95 Theses reads as follows:

“Out of love for the truth and from desire to elucidate it, the Reverend Father Martin Luther, Master of Arts and Sacred Theology, and ordinary lecturer therein at Wittenberg, intends to defend the following statements and to dispute on them in that place. Therefore he asks that those who cannot be present and dispute with him orally shall do so in their absence by letter. In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen.”

Click here for the full list

In 1521, Luther was called before the Diet of Worms and asked to recant all of his works (25 books). He responded that he could not, because much of what was in his works was in line with the Vatican and basic Christian doctrine. He said that if anyone could show his errors by Scripture, he would recant. He said:

“Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Scriptures or by clear reason (for I do not trust either in the pope or in councils alone, since it is well known that they have often erred and contradicted themselves), I am bound by the Scriptures I have quoted and my conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and will not recant anything, since it is neither safe nor right to go against conscience. Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise. May God help me. Amen.”

The term “Protestant Reformation” is an oxymoron. The Lutheran Reformation was never intended to be a protest or an effort to “make a new church”. It was always a call for reform and a return to the clear teachings of Scripture within the Church. Protestantism, by contrast, is marked by an intentional effort to break way from the Roman Catholic Church - rejecting many of the good teachings and practices of the Rome along with the bad.

[nerdygaymormon]

So I went to my Bishop with my concerns about the new policies (figuring, hey, if I lose Bishop roullette and get my temple recommend taken away for criticizing the Church, it might as well be worth it), and he showed me a really interesting verse. In D&C 74, it's talking about the early Church being conflicted about children of mixed member/non-member (aka Christian and Jewish, basically) marriages, and how they were considered unclean by the Jews since they were no longer circumcised. Anyway, long story short, the Lord reveals the following:

"Wherefore, for this cause the apostle wrote unto the church, giving unto them a commandment, not of the Lord, but of himself, that a believer should not be united to an unbeliever; except the law of Moses should be done away among them"

The key to this verse is that Peter gave a commandment that was not of the Lord. We tend to attribute a lot of infallibility to our leaders in the Church, but this verse plainly says that here was the head of the Church, a prophet of God, giving a commandment of himself in order to solve what he saw as a problem for the Church.

I see this as a direct rebuke of the doctrine of prophetic infallibility, and a reassurance that the Lord lets his prophets have agency, for better or for worse. As my Bishop said, "The Lord allows agency at all levels of the Church." We also chatted about the Plan of Salvation, and how there's a plan for everyone, even if the Church doesn't acknowledge one currently. It was an incredible talk with an ecclesiastical leader, and it showed me that there is hope that the Church can and will change over time, especially as we strive to live the Two Great Commandments of God.

You've been a huge help to my testimony when it's been weak, and I hope this helps you as much as it helped me. Much love from Colorado!

Thank you for that kind note. Also, I recognize the courage it took for you to speak with your bishop.

Your bishop gave great insight, that here we have being taught in our scriptures that sometimes apostles teach their own opinions as commandments when they are actually in opposition to the Lord.

I think it's insightful to see that the Lord's way was more liberal and inclusive than the apostle thought, which reminds me of Joseph Smith's teaching that "Our Heavenly Father is more liberal in his views, and boundless in his mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive."

The LDS Church teaches that prophets and apostles are capable of error, despite being called of God and receiving revelation, which makes sense because these are imperfect men so it seems obvious they may make mistakes. If it weren't this way it would be unique in the history of the world.

However, in practice Latter-day Saints often teach that the prophet of the church literally cannot lead church members astray or teach false doctrine, as a way of emphasizing the importance of following the prophet.

I think holding up our apostles and prophets as infallible is unfair to them as it puts them in an impossible situation, it doesn't allow them to grow, it makes them less likely to correct previous errors and therefore prolongs the time we live under the incorrect teachings & policies, and it may make them cautious to act.

I agree with your bishop that there's a plan for everyone, even if the Church doesn't acknowledge this. I have said something similar, that I believe I'm included in God's plan even if I'm not in the church's version of that plan.

I think your bishop gave some wise insight and underlines my belief that the things which are right about the church can fix the things which are wrong.

Also, I think it's useful to think of the two great commandments and use that as a filter to determine if these teachings from our leaders are more or less likely to be the Lord's will .

Thanks so much for sharing!💖

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession (Part 2)

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1

Y/N wakes to a knock at the door. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she sits upright. Aegon is still there, unmoving beside her. “Come.”

“Good morrow, your grace.” Her lady in waiting, Chérie, bows her head upon entry; a powder blue gown draped over one arm. “You must break your fast.”

“What ungodly hour is it?” The Queen grumbles, stretching both arms above her head.

“Nearly midday, my Queen.”

Y/N nods, taking her hand. “I need a favor of you.”

“A bath?” Chérie smirks.

Y/N stares down at herself, nightgown stained with blood and gods know what else. She huffs a laugh, “that as well.”

“I will ready the tub.”

“Chérie?”

“Are you seeking comfort, your grace?” She has lost her grandmother and her husband’s good health, “I could tend you.”

“No.” Y/N stares down at her hands.

“Forgive me for assuming.” She takes a step back, “I only want to help.”

Y/N moves forward, closing the space between them. “It was kind of you, Chérie. I appreciate your devotion, more than you know. There is something different I need of you.”

“Name it.”

“You know things…I must know them.”

“What is it you need know?” Chérie wonders.

“The truth of what happened at Rook’s Rest. I do not pretend to understand Aegon’s motivations. Gods willing, I may be able to ask him one day. But for now, I need know what befell him. Cole dances around it, the Hightowers will never be truthful with me.”

“Is there anything you do know? A talking point that might be of use as I consult the servants?” Chérie wonders.

Y/N leans in. “Helaena and Aemond stood at the foot of his bed last night. She asked if it was worth the price. Aemond denied any knowledge of what she meant. Still, Helaena does not speak to cause upset, she speaks when she has something to say. If he’s done this…the whole of our line may be in danger.”

Chérie sighs, “somedays I am glad to’ve been born a commoner.”

“For that I do not fault you.” Y/N forces a smile.

Chérie steals a glance at the king. “Will he live?”

“We’ve no way of knowing. I pray to the gods for his recovery, but it is a long road. He will never be as he was, so long as he lives, it matters naught to me.”

————————————————————————

“There’s been word from King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra’s head snaps up.

“Aegon has fallen, the stranger looms over his head. With Vhagar weakened in the attack, now is the time to act.”

“And what of my daughter?” The Queen ticks a finger against the table. “Has she been spotted since Aegon’s coronation?”

“We believe the princess lives, your grace. But upon second hand testimony, smallfolk in the streets, we cannot say for certain.”

“What was she doing?” Rhaenyra wonders, “my girl, when they saw her in the streets?”

The lords look to each other, “she marched beside the carriage with Aegon’s body.”

“That is proof enough. I must send word to her, she cannot think we have turned our backs on her. With Aegon gone, she may very well be Aemond’s next attempt.” Rhaenyra is sick over it.

“You must trust, as we have, that Aegon will care for her.”

“He cannot care for her, upon his deathbed. Should he pass, we leave her to whom? Aemond and Alicent? She will be put to the sword.” Rhaenyra shakes her head.

“Meleys was our largest dragon, your grace.” Ser Alfred reminds her.

“Which is why I must go.”

“You cannot, my Queen. You are the crown.”

“I will go.” Jacaerys fists the hilt of his sword.

“No,” Rhaenyra scoffs. “It is out of the question. You will be taken or slain.”

“Would you rather my sister or me?” Jace squares his shoulders. “Those are your choices.”

————————————————————————-

Y/N forces her meal down, spending the evening in her children’s rooms.

“Mama,” Visera calls to her, “I’ve made something for father.”

“I helped!” Dahlia chimes in. “Laenor wanted to, but he rubbed his hands all over it. The painting was nearly ruined.”

“Say it isn’t so, my loves.” Y/N lifts her eldest son onto her hip. “Shall I kiss his head off?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.”

Y/N smiles, peppering Laenor’s sweet face with kisses as he squeals, thrashing wildly in her hold.

Dahlia and Visera giggle, entertained for the moment.

“And you, my prince, best have learned your lesson.” Y/N says, releasing her son onto the floor.

He scampers away, still screeching with glee.

“Mother?” Dahlia tugs at her mother’s skirts.

“Yes, my darling?”

“When will we see father?”

Y/N sighs, “come, sit with me.” She pats the cushions on either side of her.

Her daughters look to each other, then join her on the settee.

“Do you remember what Papa told you about sickness? How it is a war we wage alone, within our bodies?”

“Is he ill?”

“Not exactly,” Y/N explains, “nevertheless, his body is at war now. Battling to repair itself from great wounds, some we cannot see. Every hour, he is fighting his way back to us. But he must remain abed for now, in a state of sleep.”

“May we watch him sleep?” Visera wonders.

“I fear you might be saddened by it.”

“Why, Mama?”

“He looks a bit different, on the outside. But on the inside he is the same.” Y/N says, fighting for composure, “we mustn’t touch him, lest we cause more pain. And it is hard to keep our distance, when all we truly want is to wrap him in an embrace.”

“Mayhaps when we see him, we might hold each other instead.”

Y/N looks to her eldest daughter. “On the morrow, after his bandages are changed, I will bring you. And if it is too much for you, there is no shame in saying so. We love him dearly and he knows it.”

“That is what matters, I think.” Visera says, “if I were waging war, I would want to know someone loved me.”

————————————————————————

Y/N sneaks down to the kitchens for a bit of cake, heading to Aegon’s apartments to eat it. The doors open onto Aemond, leaning over Aegon’s body.

“What are you doing?” She has no weapon, if she’s to kill him now, it will be with her bare hands or a serving spoon.

Aemond turns to her, with sly smile. “My brother was asking for you. He woke in pain, I was merely supplying him with milk of the poppy.”

Y/N forces her mouth to turn upward, “very kind of you, I thank you for looking in on him.”

Aemond nods, setting the empty cup on the bedside table. “Of course.”

“When he asked for me, what did he say?” She wonders, lying her plate of cake beside it.

“Only your name.”

Y/N nods.

“You have been a good and faithful wife to him. Aegon is blessed to have you.”

“Aemond,” Y/N breathes, “might I ask you something?”

His eye flickers about her, “of course, sweet niece.”

“What do you think was his undoing?” She motions to Aegon, “if you had to say?”

“Vanity…pride.”

“It would be suited,” Y/N forces the awful words past her lips, “for someone to take that from him.”

“You should not say such things, my Queen. The thought alone is truly depraved.”

“Of course, forgive me.”

“What befell my brother is nothing short of a tragedy.” Aemond purrs, “you must keep your wits about you.”

“Were they locked in battle?” Y/N asks, “when my grandmother gave Meleys the order?”

Aemond purses his lips, “when dragons fly to war, it is men who burn. Aegon is not the first, he will not be the last. You should be grateful he returned to you.”

“I have lost a brother to war.” Y/N says, as if he needs reminding. “I know its cruelty.”

“A shame, indeed.” Aemond hums.

“I hope it was worth the price.”

“Y/N.” Alicent calls, “Aemond, what are you doing here?”

The prince looks to his mother, “I was merely checking in on our king.”

“You are kind to do so,” Alicent swallows, “as his wife is now here, you are relieved of said duty. Unless you wish the three of us to hold vigil.”

“Perhaps another time, mother.” Aemond nods, “I’ve more pressing matters to attend.” He brushes past them, closing the door to Aegon’s bedchamber behind him.

“What were you thinking?” Alicent demands, in a hushed whisper. “My son pleads for your life and you stand here tempting the very man who-”

“The very man who what?” Y/N dares her to say it. “Killed my brother? Or are you referring to some other atrocity I am not privy to?”

“Your children are in danger, my grandchildren, let me help you.” Alicent reaches for her.

Y/N bats her hand away, “don’t you touch me! My children are in danger because of you.”

“You know what Aemond is.” Kinslayer. Alicent swallows, hard. “My only concern is keeping you safe. What is to stop him from taking out the whole of Aegon’s line to make room for his own? The smallfolk riot in the streets, demanding we open the gates. Even they wish to flee, it is all going to ruin. They need to see you.”

“They will see me as you parade my body through the streets after my murder, not a moment before. I will not betray my mother or her claim.”

“I am not asking you to stand against Rhaenyra, I am asking you to stand for my son. Before it is too late. You owe him this. You forced him onto that saddle as much as I forced him upon the throne.”

“I?” Y/N snaps, “I am the one you blame for this? You think I would have my husband reduced to ash over a fucking chair?”

Alicent presses her lips together, “all Aegon has done is in your name. He rose and he fell for you alone.”

“I wanted this to be peaceful, you know. I truly did and my mother did, then again and again I was taken for a fool.”

“Aegon loves you. He went to meet Rhaenys for you, in hopes of creating new terms with your mother. Mayhaps others have used you, like a pawn to carry out their own agenda, but not Aegon. He never plotted, he never wavered, even in his condition, you are the agenda.”

“And I love him for it, but please know I did not ask him to meet with her. I would have gone myself rather than risk his life. That is why I have not fled, or stole away with my children to Dragonstone. Aegon is equally important to me.”

“You must ready yourself then, in the color of our house.”

“No,” Y/N narrows her eyes, “this is for my husband, who hangs precariously in the balance of life and death. I will attend this procession in the color of mourning, not Hightower green.”

————————————————————————

In the absence of Daemon, Rhaenyra turns to Mysaria for counsel. “You know the ins and outs of King’s Landing better than any. I need an in.”

“Criston Cole made a mistake, parading a dragon’s head through the streets, like a prize of war. The people see an ill omen.” Mysaria tells her.

“Yes, as do I.”

“They are afraid, bread is scarce. The king has fallen, they whisper to each other that when Viserys lived there was peace.” They question the succession.

“But will whispers tear down stone? Break shields?” Save my daughter?

“Do not underestimate them, to the discontented, rumors are feed.” Mysaria continues. “What you cannot do, let others to do for you. There is more than one way to fight a war.”

Part 3

Series Taglist: @oh-you-mean-me @barnes70stark @lovelyteenagebeard @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

[camille-lachenille]

Day 5: Tears Unnumbered

A letter from the private archives of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, now kept in the Royal Archives of Arnor.

My d[e]ar[es]t R[uk]o (name uncertain), I have high hopes for the battle to come so tr[y] [n]ot to fret too much (I know it […] like asking A[rie]n not to rise [b]ut try for me.) Here is a token of my [word illegible] to keep you safe (?). With [word illegilble], Fin[no]

Despite the obvious damage, this letter dated to the second half of the First Age is remarkably preserved from time thanks to countless layers of Elven enchantments. All the damage seems to have been inflicted during the lifetime of the person who received this letter (Elf Ruko), probably due to poor conditions of storage. The spots and smudges let the historians think they may be tears, for the paper shows no other sign of water damage, and some words are worn out by what may be frequent touch.

We may make the educated guess that this letter was re-read by the elf called Ruko after the battle as they mourned their friend Finno and was an object of high personal value. The historians of the First Age agree that the battle mentioned in this letter is likely to be the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the battles of Tears Unnumbered, as it fits in the timeframe this letter is dated from.

Despite its briefness, this letter is a precious and rare testimony of a close friendship between two soldiers, showing that, despite the state of semi-constant war of the First Age, there was an efficient messenger service between the Elven strongholds.

We know not how this letter ended in the keeping of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, nor why he put such care in its preservation, but this is one of the last written primary sources we have from the First Age and we can only be grateful it survived to this day to offer us a brief glimpse of two unknown, long dead Elves.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Word count: 3.7k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: Y/n reflects on her evolving relationship with Tywin Lannister, which transitions from a secret affair to a profound alliance as they prepare to marry, while political tensions escalate with Tyrion’s trial and the brutal outcome of the trial by combat leaves her questioning Tywin’s ruthlessness

Warnings: Mature Themes, Possessiveness, Death, Graphic violence, manipulation, power dynamics, Emotional distress

_________________________________________________

The trial of Tyrion Lannister reached its climax in a flurry of accusations and manipulated testimonies. I watched from the shadows, carefully observing every player in the room. My relationship with Tywin had shifted from an affair hidden behind closed doors to something far more profound. The deeper I waded into the political intrigue of the court, the more I realized that we were bound by something more than just power or lust. We had become partners in the game, each relying on the other for strength and strategy.

But there was one more move left to play—one that would cement our alliance, not just in politics but in life. Tywin and I were going to marry.

A few days before Tyrion’s fate was to be decided, Tywin met with Lady Olenna in the gardens of the Red Keep. The tension between them was palpable, though I had little doubt that Olenna was enjoying every moment of their verbal sparring. She was the only person in King’s Landing who could match Tywin’s sharp wit and unflinching demeanor, and I knew he both respected and loathed her for it.

“So,” Olenna began, a sly smile playing on her lips as they strolled through the manicured paths. “You’re here to talk about Y/n, aren’t you?”

Tywin’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. He wasn’t accustomed to being read so easily, but with Olenna, he couldn’t help it. “Yes. I wish to discuss the possibility of taking her hand in marriage.”

Olenna raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Marriage, Lord Tywin? At your age?”

He didn’t flinch. “It’s a logical step.”

“Logical?” she echoed, her smile growing. “Come now, Tywin. We both know you’ve had no interest in marriage since Joanna. What’s changed?”

He stopped walking and faced her, his expression as hard as ever, though I knew better than to think he was unaffected. “Circumstances have changed. Y/n has proven herself to be more than just a fleeting amusement. She understands this game, and she plays it better than most. Together, we would be... formidable.”

Olenna chuckled softly. “Ah, so this is about power after all. I was starting to think you might actually be fond of her.”

Tywin’s face darkened slightly. “I respect her. That is more than I can say for most women at court.”

“Oh, please. Spare me the stone-faced act, Tywin,” Olenna said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re not doing this just for power. You may be ruthless, but you’re still human. You care about her, and that’s why you’re willing to put your neck on the line by marrying again. And let’s be honest, it’s also why you’re standing here, asking me for my approval. You know as well as I do that Y/n is... special.”

Tywin remained silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less commanding. “I didn’t plan on this, Olenna. I didn’t intend to marry again. But Y/n has become... important.”

Olenna’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Important? Tywin Lannister, admitting something so close to affection? The world may end any moment now.”

He scowled, but Olenna continued before he could respond. “Well, I suppose I could give my blessing. But remember, Tywin, once Y/n is your wife, we’ll be more closely connected than ever. Our families, our ambitions, intertwined.” Her smile was mischievous. “I wonder if you’ll come to regret that.”

The next step was meeting with my father. He had never been as shrewd or calculating as Olenna, but he held influence nonetheless. When Tywin approached him about my hand, the conversation was more direct, as my father, though less sharp, was no fool.

“It’s unexpected,” my father said, sipping his wine as they sat in his chambers. “I didn’t think you’d remarry.”

“I had no intention of doing so,” Tywin admitted, his voice as cool as ever. “But Y/n is not like the women I’ve encountered before.”

My father smiled slightly. “She takes after her grandmother in that regard. I always thought she would find herself in a powerful marriage, though I must say, I didn’t expect it to be with the Lord of Casterly Rock.”

Tywin’s gaze was steady. “I value her mind, her strength, and her ability to navigate court life. With her beside me, our houses will be stronger.”

My father considered this, nodding thoughtfully. “And does she know about this proposal?”

“She will soon,” Tywin replied. “But I wanted your approval first.”

A pause hung in the air, and for a moment, my father looked almost somber. “Do you care for her, Tywin? I know what kind of man you are. I’ve watched you for years. Y/n is strong, but she’s still my daughter. If you hurt her…”

Tywin’s expression remained unreadable, but his tone shifted slightly, more earnest than before. “I will not hurt her. In my own way, I care for her more than I’ve cared for anyone since Joanna.”

My father seemed satisfied with that, though there was a shadow of doubt in his eyes. “Then you have my blessing.”

The night Tywin told me about his conversations with Olenna and my father, I felt a wave of emotions I hadn’t anticipated. Marriage. I had known it was a possibility, even an inevitability, but hearing Tywin speak of it so plainly stirred something inside me.

We sat in his chambers, as we always did, but this time the air felt different—charged with the weight of what was to come. He looked at me with those piercing eyes, always calculating, always watching, but there was a softness there that I had begun to recognize.

“Do you want this?” I asked him quietly, my voice steady despite the swirl of thoughts in my mind.

Tywin didn’t hesitate. “I didn’t plan for it. I didn’t want to marry again. But now, things are different. You are different.”

I met his gaze, searching for any trace of uncertainty, but found none. “And what happens when we’re married? Do I become just another Lannister pawn?”

He reached out, his hand brushing against mine. “No. You will be my equal in this. Together, we will command more power than either of us could alone.”

“And your affection?” I teased lightly, though my heart raced. “Will you guard that as closely as you guard your power?”

Tywin’s lips quirked into a rare smile, one that made my heart skip a beat. “Affection is dangerous in our world, Y/n. But with you, I’ve found it’s a danger I’m willing to accept.”

I smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Then it’s settled.”

In the days following our decision, the court buzzed with rumors of our impending marriage. Some saw it as a brilliant political move, others whispered about the unusual nature of it all—how Tywin, after all these years, had finally taken a new bride.

______________________________________________________________

The throne room was filled with the heavy, suffocating tension of impending violence. I sat beside Tywin, watching as the trial by combat unfolded before us. The air was thick with anticipation, the entire court on edge as Oberyn Martell faced off against Ser Gregor Clegane. Tyrion stood off to the side, shackled and silent, his eyes flicking between the fighters. His fate was in the balance, and while my heart ached for him, I remained quiet, my hand resting in Tywin’s, our fingers interlaced in a way that made it seem like a casual gesture of solidarity. But I could feel the weight of it—a reminder of where my loyalties lay, even in the face of cruelty.

Tywin’s grip on my hand was firm, and I could feel his eyes on me, even though he did not turn his head. “Don’t look away,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “If you do, they will think you are weak. And weakness, in this court, is fatal.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. I wanted to look away—every instinct in me screamed to avert my gaze from the brutal spectacle before me. But Tywin’s words anchored me, and I kept my eyes fixed on the fight, even as the sounds of clashing steel and heavy breathing filled the air.

I could see the cruelty in his commands. This was the same man who could orchestrate his own son’s death without flinching. Tyrion’s trial, the trial by combat—it was all a cold calculation to Tywin, another move on his chessboard. I squeezed his hand tightly, not out of affection, but out of an anxious need for control. I couldn’t allow my emotions to show, not here, not now.

And yet, the fear lingered at the edges of my thoughts. If Tywin could do this to Tyrion, his own son, what would he be capable of with our future children? The thought sent a chill through me, and I felt a pang of doubt twist in my chest. He was ruthless, calculating—qualities I admired and had even learned to love in him. But would that same coldness extend to any child we might have together?

Would he see them only as heirs, as pawns to secure the future of House Lannister? Or worse, would he show them the same disdain he had for Tyrion, should they disappoint him?

My heart clenched at the thought. I wanted children—many of them. I had always imagined a large family, one filled with warmth, laughter, and love. But Tywin’s idea of family was far different. To him, family was duty and legacy. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, his face unreadable as ever, watching the fight with the same detachment he approached everything.

Could he ever be a father in the way I hoped? Or would he be a tyrant, even to his own blood?

A sickening crack echoed through the room, and my attention snapped back to the trial by combat. Oberyn had struck Ser Gregor down, and for a moment, it seemed as though Tyrion might win. My heart lifted, and I saw a flash of hope in Tyrion’s eyes as well. But it was short-lived. Gregor Clegane, impossibly strong, rose again, his massive hands closing around Oberyn’s head.

The sounds that followed—bones crunching, Oberyn’s final scream of agony—made my stomach churn. I fought to keep my expression neutral, though I could feel bile rising in my throat. My hand clenched tighter around Tywin’s, my knuckles white.

Oberyn fell, lifeless, and the Mountain stood victorious, blood dripping from his hands. The room erupted into murmurs, and I could feel the eyes of the court on Tywin, waiting for him to deliver the final blow to his son.

Tywin rose slowly, his grip still firm on my hand, as though grounding me to the moment. His voice was as cold as winter when he spoke.

“Tyrion Lannister, you are hereby sentenced to death.”

The words hung in the air, and I felt my heart drop. The cruelty of it, the coldness in Tywin’s voice—it terrified me in a way I hadn’t fully realized before. Tyrion was his son, and yet, there was no hesitation, no sign of remorse. If Tywin could be this heartless with his own blood, how would he be with any child we might have?

Would he ever be capable of love, of gentleness, or would he mold them into warriors of his own ambition, just as he had tried to mold Jaime and Cersei?

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to remain composed. The court was watching us—watching me—and I couldn’t afford to appear weak, as Tywin had warned. Still, the weight of my fears pressed down on me like a suffocating fog.

Tywin released my hand and turned to address the court, leaving me to sit silently, my thoughts racing. I wanted to believe that he cared for me more than as a political alliance. He had shown me tenderness in our private moments—moments where we spoke not of politics or strategy but of simpler things. Yet those moments seemed so distant now, swallowed by the brutality of this world.

As the court began to disperse, I remained in my seat, my hands trembling slightly. I couldn’t escape the gnawing fear in my heart. Tyrion would die, and I had done nothing to stop it. I was complicit in Tywin’s cruelty, just as I would be complicit in whatever future we built together.

But what kind of future would that be?

Later that night, I found myself alone with Tywin in his chambers. The atmosphere was heavy, and I could feel the strain of the day’s events weighing on both of us. I sat by the fire, my thoughts still tangled with doubt and fear.

Tywin stood across the room, watching me with that ever-calculating gaze. “You’re troubled,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Tyrion... it’s cruel, Tywin. He’s your son.”

Tywin’s expression hardened. “Tyrion has brought this upon himself. He has been a disgrace to our family since the day he was born.”

I bit my lip, the words catching in my throat. “And if we have children? Will you be just as ruthless with them?”

His eyes softened just a fraction, and he crossed the room to stand before me. “Our children will be strong. They will not fail me as Tyrion has.”

I looked up at him, my heart aching. “I want many children, Tywin. But I don’t want them to fear you.”

He knelt before me, taking my hands in his. “They will respect me. And they will have the strength to survive in this world.”

I searched his face for any sign of tenderness, any hint of the man I had grown to love behind the cold mask of Lord Tywin Lannister. “I want more than just strength for them. I want them to feel safe. Loved.”

Tywin’s gaze softened further, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You will be their mother. And you will give them the warmth I cannot. But I will protect them. And I will protect you.”

I held his gaze, my fears still lingering but less sharp now. Tywin might never be the father I dreamed of for our children, but he was a man of his word. He would protect us. And perhaps, in time, he would come to understand that love was as powerful a weapon as any sword or army.

We sat in silence for a moment, the fire casting shadows on the walls. Tywin’s hand tightened around mine, and for the first time that day, I allowed myself to exhale, the weight on my chest lifting just a little.

But the game was far from over. Tyrion’s execution loomed, and with it, a new chapter in the story of House Lannister—and in my life as Lady Lannister.

I would have to be ready for whatever came next. But tonight, I would find solace in the man who had both terrified and captivated me, and in the promise of the family we would build together.

No matter how dangerous that future might be.

______________________________________________________________

The air between us hung heavy with the tension of the day’s events. The words I had spoken lingered—about children, about the future. Tywin’s eyes, still calculating but darker now with something else, studied me intently. He was no longer the ruthless commander of men but a man driven by something primal, something stirred by our talk of heirs and legacy. I could see the shift in him, the subtle yet unmistakable hunger that crept into his gaze.

His hand, still gripping mine, slid upwards to cup my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “You want children,” he repeated, his voice low, dangerous, filled with the promise of something I hadn’t fully grasped until now.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling a shiver run down my spine, not from fear, but from anticipation.

Tywin’s lips pressed against mine with a possessive urgency, his hand already moving to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His kiss was not gentle—it was demanding, full of intent. There was no question in my mind now what he wanted, and the thought sent heat coursing through my body.

He broke the kiss and stood, pulling me up with him. His eyes locked onto mine with a fire I rarely saw in him, except in moments of victory or conquest. “If you want children, you shall have them,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands already working to remove my dress. “But not just any children. My children. Heirs to House Lannister. Strong. Unyielding.”

I gasped as he tore the fabric from my body, leaving me bare before him. His eyes raked over me, taking in every inch of exposed skin, the hunger in his gaze unmistakable. He undressed himself quickly, and soon we stood together, both stripped of the layers that had once separated us. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power of his presence overwhelming.

He pushed me back onto the bed, his hands spreading my legs as he loomed over me, his eyes never leaving mine. “You will give me sons,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Strong sons, to carry my name.”

The weight of his body settled on top of me, and I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressed against my thigh. My breath hitched, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and need. I wanted this—wanted him in every way. The thought of carrying his children, of being the mother to the next generation of Lannisters, thrilled me more than I had ever imagined.

He entered me in one swift motion, his grip on my hips tight as he began to move with a steady, determined rhythm. Each thrust was forceful, claiming, and I met him with equal fervor, my nails digging into his back as we moved together. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room, mingling with the ragged breaths and low moans that escaped my lips.

Tywin’s hand moved to my belly, pressing down slightly as he thrust deeper into me, his eyes locked onto mine. “You will bear my sons,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “You will give me heirs.”

I moaned in response, my body arching beneath him as the intensity of our connection built. His words, the promise of what we were creating together, only fueled my desire. I wanted to please him, to give him everything he demanded. My fingers tangled in his hair as I pulled him down for another kiss, our mouths clashing in a desperate, hungry embrace.

But then, suddenly, the door to the chamber flew open with a crash, and both of us froze, turning to see the intruder.

Tyrion stood in the doorway, his face pale and his eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion. His chains were gone—he had escaped his cell, but he hadn’t planned on finding his father in the middle of bedding Y/n Tyrell.

I gasped, my body still pinned beneath Tywin, but neither of us moved. Tyrion’s eyes flickered between the two of us, the reality of the situation sinking in as he took a step back, his expression a twisted mixture of disgust and disbelief.

“Father,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t realize…"

Tywin, without so much as moving off me, locked eyes with his son, his face cold, unyielding. “Leave.”

Tyrion’s jaw clenched. “After everything, after all your scheming, this is what I walk into?”

Tywin narrowed his eyes. “You have no right to speak, Tyrion. Not here. Not now.”

I could see the rage building in Tyrion, the pain and betrayal that had driven him to the point of desperation. He wanted to fight, to lash out, but I could also see the weight of everything pressing down on him. He was on the brink of losing everything, and yet, he hesitated.

I placed a hand on Tywin’s chest, gently pushing him back, and sat up, covering myself with the sheet. “Tyrion,” I said softly, trying to defuse the situation. “Please… leave King’s Landing. Escape. It’s your only chance.”

His eyes shifted to me, his expression unreadable. “You want me to run?” he asked, bitterness lacing his voice. “After everything I’ve been through, you think I’ll just run?”

I met his gaze, my heart aching for him. Tyrion had never been given the love he deserved, not from his father, not from his family. But if he stayed, there would be no mercy. “You must. If you stay, you will die. Tywin will not show mercy.”

Tywin’s hand tightened around my arm, his grip firm, but I didn’t flinch. I looked at Tyrion, pleading silently with him to listen. “Please, Tyrion. Just leave. Find a way out of the city. Live.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it, his eyes flicking between me and Tywin. Finally, he nodded, his expression hardening. “Perhaps you’re right,” he muttered, his voice filled with resignation. “But know this, father—this is not the end. You may have won today, but your victory will be short-lived.”

With that, Tyrion turned and walked out of the chamber, leaving Tywin and me in tense silence.

Tywin exhaled slowly, his hand still resting on my arm, but the urgency of our moment had passed. He pulled away from me, standing up and moving to the side of the bed.

“You showed him mercy,” he said quietly, not looking at me.

I sat up, the sheet still wrapped around me, my heart pounding from the tension of the encounter. “He is your son,” I said softly. “I could not let him die like this.”

Tywin turned, his gaze hard and unreadable. “And what if he comes back? What if he seeks revenge?”

I met his gaze, unflinching. “Then we will deal with it when the time comes. But for now, he is gone. That is all that matters.”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded, as if accepting my words. “You will bear my sons,” he said again, his voice lower now, more thoughtful. “And they will be strong.”

I nodded, my heart heavy but resolute. I would give him the heirs he wanted, and I would be the mother to his legacy. But I would also ensure that our children were more than just pawns in his game. They would know love, and they would know kindness.

And perhaps, in time, Tywin would come to understand that strength came in many forms—some that even he had yet to grasp.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

One of the passengers aboard the Titanic was a godly Pastor from Scotland, by the name of John Harper. Harper had recently spent three months ministering at the Moody Church in Chicago. He had not been back in Britain long when he was asked to return. He quickly made arrangements for himself and his six-year old daughter, Nana, to return via the Titanic.

The Titanic struck the iceberg on April 14, 1912. Harper wrapped his daughter in a blanket, told her that she would see him again one day and watched her safely board one of the lifeboats. (She survived)

One survivor distinctly remembered hearing him shout, "Women, children and the unsaved into the lifeboats!" Harper knew that believers were ready to die but the unsaved were not ready. Harper then ran along the decks pleading with people to turn to Christ,he called upon the Titanic’s orchestra to play, "Nearer, my God, to Thee." Gathering people around him on deck, he then knelt down, and "with holy joy in his face" raised his arms in prayer. As the ship began to sink, he jumped into the icy waters and swam frantically to all he could reach, beseeching them to turn to the Lord Jesus and be saved. John Harper then sank into the depths and passed into the Lord’s presence; he was 39.

Four years later, a young Scotsman named Aguilla Webb stood up in a meeting in Hamilton, Canada, and gave the following testimony:

“I am a survivor of the Titanic. When I was drifting alone on a spar that awful night, the tide brought Mr. John Harper of Glasgow, also on a piece of wreck, near me. ‘Man,’ he said, ‘Are you saved?’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I am not.’ He replied, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.’ The waves bore him away; but, strange to say brought him back a little later, and he said, ‘Are you saved now?’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘I cannot honestly say that I am.’ He said again, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved,’ and shortly after he went down; and there, alone in the night, and with two miles of water under me, I believed. I am John Harper’s last convert.”

[taylor-titmouse]

I'm Taylor Titmouse, I write and illustrate queer erotica featuring freaks and monsters. I also draw a lot of porn that I can't post here, so those will be posted as crops with links to my various uncensored locations.

You can find my illustrated novellas and artbooks on Itchio. I've published a Lot of them. If you don't know where to start, I recommend the Dragon Double Feature series or Roger Crenshaw, or Spring with the Unicorns--that one's free!

Some of my latest releases, try The Long Road if you like gender-based worldbuilding!

You can find the most complete collection of my uncensored art on Patreon and Subscribestar (both are equally served.) I post high resolution art regularly, and everything is neatly organized going back to 2022 (that's longer than I've been posting here!) $5 patrons get access to over 180 exclusive illustrations, and can vote in monthly polls from suggestions made by the $10 tier--who can also commission me at any time with a 10% discount!

Just .05% of the exclusives you unlock by subscribing!

You can also follow me on Twitter or Bluesky, where I post my art uncensored. Below the cut is a list of story tags, which will link you to art and posts about those stories, and provides some context to what they're about. Thanks for checking out my work!

TT Art: my art tag TT Talks Drawing: my tag for talking about the art-making process TT Talks Writing: my tag for talking about the writing process TT Testimonials: my tag for asks reviewing how good my books are :^) TT Asks: my tag for answering asks

Story Tags Barnyard Bound: F/M, human/furry, bondage, breeding kink, Harvest Moon also for some reason. Cherry Brilliant Ryder: M/F, aliens and medical play (The Xenosexuality Conference) Brilliant, Dr. Lindon, Dr. Odonata, Dr. Pinkie, Dr. Menura, Councilman Somato, Zeal-and-Duty Chique: NB/Various, fantasy monsters, elves, nudism, catch/fuck (The Sunken City, The Wild Woods) Chique, Lien, Lutin, Fuck-elves The Dragon Double Feature: M/F, M/M, M/M/F, dragon/human, oni/human, plus size. Fantasy princess/dragon CNC, Edo era Japan (The Dragon Double Feature, The Dragon Double Feature 2) Eveline, Gundrid, Wakatake/Taki, Kenta, Mrs. Arakawa, Jerund Eternella 7: M/M/M, Gundam-inspired space opera erotica. (Eternella 7 Parts 1-3) Risk, Turn, Engel House Gerhardt: F/F/M, vampires, trans women, femdom, male humiliation, 1800s. Lady Cygnet, Countess Gerhardt, Conrad House of the Risen King: M/F, old god, exhibitionism/nudism, sex cult. (House of the Risen King) Vee, Zihbeh Knight of Thorns: M/F, giant faceless knight/petite princess forced marriage. Rosaline, Knight of Thorns Laurestine: Trans unicorns, monsters, bondage/stuck in situations, catch/fuck (Spring with the Unicorns) Laurestine, Barberry, Mazereon, Edelweiss The Leylic Sea: M/M, historical fantasy, pirates, university wizards (The Captain of the Tybaltine, The Boy from Karkutt) Mr. Todd, Oliver Bullock, Lucas, Mirza The Long Road: Goblins, dwarves, bandits, a princess and a knight. Gangbangs, rope bondage, CNC (The Long Road) Tourmaline, Angre, Vanesse, Samwell, Georgie and Markie (the Twins), Jarett, Bingo, Goblina. Lover Rescue: F/F/Genderfluid, magical girls, monsters, plus size, cam girling. Lover Pink (Momoka), Lover Gold (Hikari), Lover Blue (Aozora), Lord Heteracuto (Hiroto) The Masson Circle: M/M, M/F, 1970s crime romance, multiple ships, femdom, trans male character (The Masson Circle) Ezra, Tessa, Leonard, Lionel/Nell, Jean, Mathieu Max and Mortis: M/F, exhibitionism, naturalism, photography, nudism. Max, Mortis/Daisy Monsterfuck Mountain: Fantasy monsters, WIP erotic CYOA (You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain) The Mage, Trolls The Night Guest: M/F, young man/older woman, oni/human (The Night Guest) Mrs. Arakawa, Tōru Objects of Affection: M/F, F/F, robot girls and people being weird about them. Touma, Shima, Mari-ko, Ratna, Mari Mouse, Samart, Marinette Season's Breedings: Gnomes, Imps, and probably other critters, and their biology/breeding habits. Applecore. The Sleeping Garden: M/Agender, alien, science. Dr. Arbor, The Flower Starbuster: M/M, a WIP novel-length superhero romance. Mitsuo, Tom, Starbuster Roger Crenshaw: Trans M/M, monsters, occultism, early 1900s (The Vampires of New Haven, The Wolves of the West, The Shadow in the Shelves, The Dogs at Duskfall) Roger Crenshaw, Professor Reed, Grigori, Mateo, Johnny, Sweet Nate, Jackie-Ralph, Cam Ellis, George Adler, Combe Hooper. Romick: Evil wizards, obedient doll, magical sex, experimentation kink, dungeon bondage, monster sex (The Tenebrous Tower) Romick, The Doll, Cadogan, Madog, Osmund, Vester