#so i only need volumes 18 & 19 + this month volume 21 is coming out so

[purpleandstarlight]

Got +2 new volumes of the manga (normal editions, nothing special) at the bookstore next to my house and i had to re-arrange them on my shelf bc they became so many that it was getting weird to look at how i arranged them last time.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #37

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36]

[AO3] [wattpad]

*CW-Long term affects of medical denial & child abuse, living with PTSD *Kink & toys mentioned

((I keep forgetting to tell you guys: Lyly is pronounced "lee-lee." It's short for their middle name, Llyn/Lynn (<-genderfluid affected spelling)))

~POV Mori~ I woke up gasping. I sat up and wrapped my arms around myself so I could tell the difference between actual physical touch and the phantoms left over from my night terror. My body wouldn't stop shaking; I needed Lyly's help. When I got out of bed I froze. Not only did my bed not have curtains, this wasn't my room. No. This was my room. Sinbad picked it out for me in the guest tower. I was in Sindria; in a whole different dimension. All of the adrenaline supporting me left and I sank to the floor. I was still trembling but I wasn't scared anymore. The people who hurt me couldn't reach me here. I had that dream because after spending the past month hyperfixated on the present, I had been triggered into remembering one of the worst parts of my past, so now I was remembering the rest too. 'Sorry, Lyly.' The safety I had gained in this world was invaluable. I couldn't imagine going home willing. Based on how little light was getting through the curtains it was still the middle of the night. I was drained from my dream, and my hips were still aching but it took a while for my mind to calm back down. Tomorrow and the distractions that came from it couldn't come soon enough.

--- "Alright now, Mx. Prophet," the doctor gave me my diagnosis. Sinbad had him sent first thing in the morning, and his arrival woke me up. "You need to rest for a few days. I'll have painkillers sent over to help with your hip pain, fever, and migraine." With his job done, he saw himself out. 'I can't miss the Morning Assembly! ...But-!' I knew the doctor was right deep down. I was in no condition to do much of anything. I was fine resting when I didn't have obligations, but I had a job now. If I was back home I would have had to give Lyly my keys so I couldn't leave. Five years just wasn't enough to fully rewrite my base instincts. Although, from the new memories I was gaining, the me back home was doing a bit better. Those new memories were why I was healed and practiced enough to stop myself even if a doctor hadn't told me to... especially since I had a fever. As long as both me's kept whatever this connection was then maybe we would also keep the benefits from both sides. --- ~POV Sharrkon~ Mori was the only person that missed the morning Assembly. Yamuraiha had a growing smile throughout the meetings, and now that it ended she mumbled something to Pisti. Shar groaned; he knew where this was going. "Yup." Pisti giggled. "I heard from a reliable source," probably 1 of her boyfriends, "that Mori's not 'sick'. Her hips were injured and her body over worked last night." The King refused to look at the gossips. His silence spoke volumes compared to the past month of him adamantly defending that there was nothing special between him and 'his Beautiful Prophet.' "Oh ho~! It finally happened after I left!" Hina slapped Sharrkan on the back with a laugh. "Looks like the 2 of us have to pay up! But I guess you lost the most, huh?" "Oh, no! I ain't paying nothing! Nothing happened!!" Shar had a hurt ego to nurse and he would not let them step on it harder. "Mori got hurt dancing. Our King had nothing to do with it!" Sharrkon felt a shiver run down his spine that made him hold his tongue. Hina looked to the others for confirmation. "Is that true?" Drakon answered him. "It's true. However, it's also true that Sin carried Mori all the way to their room from the festival." "Oh~? That's proof enough for me." Drakon, Ja'far, Yam, and Pisti agreed with their own comments. The man in question still refused to comment, so Hinahoho addressed him directly. "You're really not going to say anything, Sin? After all of that time, telling us how you don't want to get married?" "Fine. Fine." King Sinbad finally turned to them with his arms crossed. "It's simple really. You know I'm not the type to reveal my hand until I'm certain." Sinbad was smiling, but Shar knew instinctually the King was the threat that told him to stop talking. The giant laughed. "Is that so?" "I know you're aware this is a first for me." Sharkkon's wallet cried with him. He had lost 2 out of 3 bets. It was only a matter of time before he lost the 3rd.

---- ~POV Mori~ The Great Bell rang out. The morning Assembly was definitely over. There were several things I had wanted to do today, and I couldn't do any of them since I had to rest. I needed to meet with Queen Artemina before she left Sindria. I had to solidify our connection as allies, but she was set to leave in a day. As I wrote a letter to send her, the waves shifted. This was the right choice for me, and the future I wanted. The letter would need time to dry before I could send it. I got up from my chair and stopped. I didn't want to lay down again yet no matter how much my body needed it. 'Damnit! How much more of my life am I going to spend sick??' I groaned into my hands. I was born with a weak raspatory system, so I get sick multiple times a year and often end up bedridden. "I am allowed to rest even though I can sit up and walk. Pushing will only make it worse." My mom eventually stopped acknowledging when I would get sick due to the expense which is why I struggle to let myself rest as an adult. I made a point of putting the truth into words to fight her conditioning. I climbed back in bed even though I knew that meant I would be stuck with just my thoughts until I fell back asleep. This was the perfect opportunity to process everything that had happened with Sinbad, but I couldn't think about it at all. Being triggered, recognizing these new memories, and that night terror just made me think about home more -well the place I came from. Even when I was in my room there I often couldn't help but think 'I want to go home' because even though it was comfortable and familiar, I couldn't feel safe. My last therapist told me that as long as I stayed in that house full of reminders there was only a slim chance of me recovering from my CPTSD. If only I could have afforded to move out.

In the new memories I got, our dad finally agreed to reorganize all of the living spaces, so that me and Lyly weren't getting as many flashbacks anymore. Hell, he even apologized for everything and started acting like a real dad some of the time. The me that stayed home was able to persevere until an opening for change finally came. 'If they got Isekai now I wonder if they would want to go home?' The thought had never occurred to this me -just like it never did back when I was in in-patient. Although I was still worried about Lyly like I was then. I rolled over to pull out a scroll from the bedside dressers. When I was on the ship I had worked on all sorts of scrolls and one was a memoir of my life back home. One of the first things I did was draw the people important to me before I'll inevitably forget their faces. I unrolled the scroll. Lyly's face stared up at me from the page. As difficult as that place was to live in all of my loved ones were there. In this world there was no one that knew me, and I wasn't sure if I could let my self get that close to anyone here -especially Sinbad. He already knew how deep some of the scars on my heart are. I didn't want him to think any less of me, or use my pain against me. And even more than that, I was scared that the safety I had here would shatter if I made a wrong step. 'I thought I was doing better.' This world had treated me so well that I fell into a false sense of security. Not being surrounded by reminders of my traumas made me feel like I was somehow cured and could restart from scratch. But that's not how healing works... Being away from triggers just made it easier to avoid having an attack. It's only after feeling safe that we let ourselves feel the emotions that are unsafe to feel in the moment. A few tears fell down my cheeks. I placed the scroll on the bedside table and rolled back towards the middle of the bed. Surely it was okay for me to cry in a situation like this. I allowed myself the luxury even though the tears didn't last long. When I was young I cried just as often from joy as sadness. The abuse I experienced made it unsafe to cry at all, so I learned to cry silently until I eventually stopped crying altogether. Being in this world made me feel like it was okay again. Letting myself actually feel these emotions was an important step in the healing process. Beating myself up for getting triggered and relapsing wouldn't help at all. I needed to forgive myself.

--- One day of rest should be enough, right? It's not like I still had a fever. I didn't want to stay in my room and make an even worse impression. My hips would hurt a little if I over worked them, but that would just act as a limiter. ((<<= This person is in denial))

I got dressed after breakfast, but as soon as I grabbed the doorknob I froze. "Yeah, no." I was not in the mood to see Sinbad in person yet, and I would have to if I left my room. As soon as I took Queen Sinbad's choker back off I felt a wave of relief. It had given me so much dopamine and serotonin when it was part of a fantasy, but now it was a reminder of my fears. How could I mark myself with it when I couldn't feel safe in my own desires? Wearing it felt like a lie. I definitely wouldn't be able to wear it for a while.

'Guess I haven't completely lost my sense of self-preservation.' Besides, I hadn't actually had time to do most of the things I like doing to relax since I got to this world. Going out in this state would be worse than not going out. Another day off as I recover from the stress had to be reasonable.

But what options did I have to relax?

Everyone else was busy with work at this time of day, so I could masturbate without having to worry about being interrupted. But my toybox didn't isekai with me; I only have my hands, and some ribbons for mild shibari. Sinbad said I could make requests, but there was no way in hell I was letting him find about this, let alone use his money for my sex toys. I'll figure out where to get some after payday. The night terror was still fresh in my memory anyway.

Video games, comics, and anime were obviously out of the question. Printing still isn't big enough for fiction to be popular to write -that's part of why Sinbad's Adventure story was such a huge success. I had 3 cats back home, but I can't exactly adopt a new pet while sick. I do sing a lot to relieve stress, but it would be embarrassing to be overheard without knowing. 'Note to self: get carpets to hang up to dampen the sound.' There were places I could go that would be harder to be heard but leaving wasn't an option until I was better. That only left me: writing and drawing.

'Working on Fate scrolls it is!'

The flow of ink was good for my brain. It did more than help calm me; it gave me more perspective but it couldn't give me true answers. 'I wish we could just go back to how things were before that night. How am I supposed to know when I will be ready to see Sinbad again?' He isn't any of the people that hurt me, so why can't I just like him without being afraid of betrayal?

Were Sinbad's actions manipulation, or earnest? Could I trust the safety I felt around him? It was definitely a combination of how he treated me, what I knew from reading his Fate, and how familiar I was with being around those types of manipulation. But there was something strange. When I looked for signs of his manipulation in how he dealt with me, or any expected fallout, nothing came from it. In fact, everything kept ending in my favor. The cycle I was expecting was coming from me, not Sinbad. The waves swirled as I finally let myself think about it.

What was he actually going to say when I cut him off? Even if it was what I thought, would I be able to believe him? Even if I didn't have relationship trauma I don't think I could trust him romantically after reading his Fate. He claimed he wasn't playing the flirting game, but that could have been manipulation. Was it my heart or pride that would be hurt more if he was lying? I couldn't tell yet.

I was lonely. Both in general, and in this world. There was no one that knew me here. And I was too scared to trust the person getting closest to my heart. Even though I didn't want to be seen like this, I didn't actually want to be alone; I just couldn't shake the fear of rejection or punishment I thought was inevitable. I left my windows open just in case. ---

~POV Sinbad~ The King sat on the edge of Mori's bed. He had been unable to visit the first time she was sick. Now that he understood his own feelings he couldn't stay away unless he was on the other side of the world. The only reason he didn't visit the first day was because he knew she needed space away from him. The waves had been trying to guide him here for a while though. Who was he to deny them? No one answered the door when he knocked or called out. The silence and waves worried him. The last report said her current fever was mild, but it could have spiked since then. Mori developed an extremely high fever on the ship several hours after everyone saw she was unwell. He entered without permission only to find his Beautiful Prophet was sleeping peacefully. He had gotten to see her; that would have to be enough. Mori turned her head in her sleep and her bangs fell onto her eye lashes. Sinbad leaned over to move her hair out of the way. He tried to keep his touch light to not wake her, but her eyes fluttered open. Unfocused eyes watched him. "Sin..?" The sound of their voice was a relief. It didn't sound strained at all, only weak from sleep.

"How are you feeling?" They weren't anywhere near as bad as last time. "~*yawn* Better now that I'm awake." "Oh? Did you have a bad dream?" They watched him as what he asked slowly processed in their newly conscious state. "Yeah, I did. Thank you for waking me." "Anytime." Sinbad returned their weak smile with his own. "I guess that's why it wasn't just my waves leading me here." He hesitated. "Mori, what do you think about moving into the Purple Leo Tower? It will be easier to care for you when you get sick. You'll be safer there. And your waves could reach me faster." The same fear from the other night started seeping into their expression. "I'm fine here." But he wasn't fine. "Besides, it will be harder when I have to move out of the Palace." For a moment he forgot how to breathe. "Why would you have to move out?" Why would she ever think she had to leave?? "Would you really be okay with me staying after my visions run out?" The King couldn't stop his hand from reaching to caress their cheek, but he was able to hold back from making contact. "Of course." Mori's brow creased farther and they glanced at his hand. "What about after I share all the knowledge I have from my world? I wasn't an engineer. I only know the basics." Sinbad's heart dropped. From the beginning Mori had been marketing herself as a resource, and he had only ever responded positively. Yet another way he'd messed up without even realizing it. "Of course, I'll still want you by my side." The more he was able to peer into Mori's heart the more worried he got. "You are a person, not a resource. You do know that, don't you?" Mori closed their eyes and leaned their head towards his hand; he took that as permission. Their cheek didn't feel feverish. They spoke flatly about their emotions like they did the night of the Announcement. "I know that logically, but I struggle with knowing how to act if I'm not helping someone." They brought a hand up to his. "I really do like helping people, but sometimes it feels like that's all I am. It's what I had to do to survive since I was little." Ah. He could understand that thought process. Sinbad had been a caregiver for his mother and village from a very young age, and went straight from that to king's candidate. There was very little time in his life when he wasn't working towards helping someone. Drinking, and philandering became his break from that -although he would hopefully be narrowing that last point to one person soon. "You seemed to do just fine at the festival." So fine that he couldn't deny his feelings anymore. "Huh? -Oh. Yeah. I guess I did." Her expression softened into a genuine smile. "It was probably going around the festival that got me sick though." It was mainly stress according to the doctors' report. Mori closed her eyes with a yawn. "I'll have to keep more distance between me and the citizens next time. I didn't realize I was so interesting." "You're incredibly interesting." They let out a quiet chuckle. "If you say so." Sinbad watched and felt as they turned their face into his palm, and sighed. Mori relaxed more into his hand with each breath as if his scent and touch were comforting. It bubbled up desires he knew he shouldn't act upon with a sick or unconscious person and yet he couldn't make himself leave either. He took a moment to ground himself but it did little good. He couldn't bring himself to leave until after Mori let go of his hand. To think another person would have this much power over him. "You really are amazing." There was absolutely no way he'd ever allow anyone else to see this side of them. Mori would be moved to the Purple Leo Tower in time, and would just have to learn through experience that he had no intentions of letting them go. ---

~POV Mori~ I woke up to the Great Bell the next morning. Sinbad being here was not a dream. I had just been too groggy to question the situation. What was the point of staying home, if he was going to visit me in person?

On the plus side, seeing Sinbad while I wasn't stuck in my trauma brain helped break the cycle of questions. Sinbad might be stubborn but through his whole life he is shown being someone fully willing to change his mind when given enough information. At this point in the story he is someone with conviction who says his truth directly -even if he often speaks in a manipulative way. So when he said he's chosen a new path, he meant it -even if I don't know what that means yet. And when he is shown seducing women, the idea of moving any of them into the Purple Leo Tower would never be considered, let alone offered -even in private. And yet he offered that to me.

Sinbad was changing and I'd never be able to accept how if I stayed cooped up in my room. To understand myself, and Sinbad I needed to spend more time around him. My rest was over. I didn't need to jump all the way in at once. I'd see him at the morning Assemblies, swap pleasantries, and part ways until the next day. 'Slow and steady.' --- ~POV Sinbad~ Was this how Hina and Drakon felt when they looked at their wives before they got together? Just seeing Mori enter the halls of the White Capricorn Tower made his heart swell. And hearing their voice? Well, he was starting to understand why Ja'far had been so upset with him since they returned from Balbadd. Even seeing Mori dressed androgynously didn't shake his feelings -though it was a bit jarring after how they dressed for the Announcement. It just cemented that what he felt wasn't simply based on how Mori presented. They were undeniably the most beautiful person in the world to him now.

After going through more options than necessary, the first thing the Dungeon Capturer managed to say to Mori was, "I'm happy to see you're feeling better."

"Yes. And thank you for visiting me while I was resting." Mori's smile made him feel at peace. Seeing them up close confirmed that they cut their bangs some. "But never enter my room without explicit permission again." Their sharper tone pierced him repeatedly with each sentence. "That includes the bird by the way. If my curtains are closed or I don't answer the door: don't enter my room."

He wore a smile to ease their anger. "Of course. It won't happen again."

Even as Mori accepted his response and left, the King couldn't get his heart to stop racing. Why did there have to be so many large risks of ruining his chances when he already knew she liked him from reading his Fate?

--- ~POV Mori~

As soon as the Assembly was over, I fled to the Black Libra Tower. 'He said he was happy I was better! AND he didn't say anything about about my change of gender expression!' Sinbad said all of two words directly to me and I started short circuiting. I remembered that he offered to move me to his tower -the one he sleeps in???- and immediately went on the defensive. I was not as ready as I thought!! I was going to need my favorite hyperfixation to survive the rollercoaster I was trapped on. And if it didn't exits yet, then I was going to reinvent it myself! It would be relatively easy to make a printing press since this fanfic was in English instead of whichever Arabic language was the region's canonical one, or Japanese like the series was originated in. Both require significantly more characters than English, and some kanji can be too intricate to make with this world's current level of technology. Speaking of which, this world had stamps and seals so this next level of printing shouldn't be too crazy of a change. I took some print making classes in high school and college, so I got to use a few different scale printing presses. I knew enough to draft prototypes. I excelled at typography in college too -so well that the department head signed off on me skipping a few courses so I could get to the high level stuff faster. The typography was digital, but I still learned enough to draft prototypes of stamps and such. ('A shame I couldn't afford higher than an Associates Degrees.) Since I was working on a table in the middle of one of the libraries, people came up to ask me about what I was doing. I gave a brief summary to the latest onlooker, before I pointed to the examples I was drafting. "I see." His voice was familiar but I was too focused to register it. The person moved around the table to read the part I had finished this morning. He made a few sounds of recognition as he read. "Won't spelling out each word every time be a hassle?" "Well, yeah. It's better to have most words premade. And full lines of text can be fused together to make reprinting more issues easier and faster." He pointed to a spot on the parchment. "Ah- that's what this part is then." My eyes were drawn to the glint of his rings. Every cell in my body remade itself as my brain finally acknowledged who was talking to me. "That is convenient." Sinbad's voice was unmistakable now that I was paying attention. I prayed to every God I knew of that my emotions didn't show in my actions or voice. "This might be a new technology here, but you won't have to completely reinvent the wheel thanks to my 'visions.'" I had to focus on my breathing to keep my heart rate down. I was able to keep the conversation moving, but I wasn't sure I would remember it well. I was more focused on not looking like an idiot. We had exchanged greetings at the morning assembly but this was the first time I was talking to him fully sober in days. His polite gestures and this conversation made my heart swell, but he wasn't flirting; he was just existing while being attractive. 'Why did I have to start thinking it could be mutual??? I can't even enjoy it like this!' If anything starts there's going to be an end.

--- ~POV Sinbad~ Sinbad didn't have a 'real' reason for visiting Mori in Black Libra Tower on their first day back, but, as King, there was no one who would question him. Although, Ja'far would come to get him if he's away from his responsibilities for too long. He arrived a bit after lunch to find Mori sitting at a table in the middle of the library where anyone could and did come talk to them. The proof being that they didn't beat an eye at his questions. In fact, it sounded like they had explained about this stamp system multiple times. Mori needed their own office in the tower. He'd make sure they got one asap. As interesting as this new technology was, Sinbad kept finding himself staring at his Beautiful Prophet more. It was hard enough to focus at his own desk -let alone when Mori was right in front of him. Sinbad had heard that acknowledging the feeling makes it stronger, but he wasn't expecting this. Mori tensed for a moment before scooting their chair away from him. He had been leaning closer to them without realizing, and they moved away. How was this the same person that fell asleep holding his hand the previous day? Were they just too tired back then to remember what was going on? Did they think it was a dream? He definitely shouldn't flirt with them while they were this uncomfortable to be around him. Would they even be willing to hold his arm while they walked together? He didn't think so. Sinbad took a moment to ground. Even if Mori had turned into a feral cat or wild rabbit around him, the way they watched him when they thought he wasn't looking was a sign that they wouldn't mind being tamed by him. They had enjoyed his company before; he just needed to remind them of that. The only question was if he could regain Mori's trust before he had to leave for the Kou Empire.

((OMGOSH I did not expect this to take this long. At least a month of that gap was from back-to-back illness too, so it took even longer. My digestive track turned off for 24 hours and took 48 to fully come back online. While I was in recovery I caught a really bad upper raspatory infection that gave me a 103F fever for a week. So of course my period hit me like a freight train a week later. Somehow I was ill the weeks around the holidays and not on them, but it was a still a super rough couple of weeks. I'm better now :D which is why I was able to have the energy to write.

I processed a lot of my emotions while working on these chapters. They're all things I already knew, but consolidating them like this helped me see more of the places they were affecting me, and cement in my head that it is okay to move forward. :D

This arc is 3 chapters long including this one. Since I do have the next 2 written already, I just need to refine them and make the art, so there shouldn't be as long as a break for the next chapter. Like this chapter, they will have scenes of Mori processing their emotions. I needed a lot of time to edit them down a ton since there's obviously things I don't intend to post on the internet, and I want the story to feel good to read chapter to chapter. I've already got the next arc started too. It's a lot of character confrontations that became discarded drafts of earlier arcs, but definitely need to happen now. Since I have those drafts as a basis, I hope to get that arc ready before I finish posting this one. I have another DeadEnd chapter to post, and a few one shots I almost have ready. I've been posting wips and art for for them on patreon, but I won't be posting them here until I have full chapters ready U-U))

[kellyvela]

There was one person who commented on grrm blog about Dany being their most hated character and hoping she would die. Grrm replied 'tsk tsk'. Do you know about that post?

This one?

The comment, now deleted, is from this post: Dany and the Dragons - Jul. 8th, 2013.

What about it? Is this about targies clinging to that "tsk tsk" for their lives?

I remember that the user belomor555 wrote that comment as an answer to another user mentioning them, as you can see here:

I like the conversation under grrm's comment, because those users didn't assume that George was saying he won't kill Dany:

We also know that when someone said to George that he’s not allowed to kill Dany, he answered that "Parris has proclaimed that Arya cannot die!" [Source]

Classic George!

But what is that "tsk tsk" compared to all this:

July 21, 2018

In the earlier published Targaryen family tree as found in The World of Ice & Fire, Princess Daenerys did not exist. In her place was Prince Aeryn Targaryen, Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s sixthborn son who died young. Besides Aeryn having been exchanged for Daenerys, several other children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne were shifted in their order of birth.

Regarding these changes, Elio Garcia has stated the following:

… George had some new ideas for some of the names and the stories of the children who died young, and corrected some issues that came out of his original birth order (we actually got the names of all the kids quite late in the production of TWoIaF—literally a month before we had to finalize the book—so there was not much time to interrogate it). However, the stories of those who live to adulthood, as published in TWoIaF, do remain the same (just, of course, much more detailed).

[Source]

November 20, 2018

Jaehaerys loved all three children fiercely, but from the moment Aemon was born, the king began to speak of him as his heir, to Queen Alysanne’s displeasure. “Daenerys is older,” she would remind His Grace. “She is first in line; she should be queen.” The king would never disagree, except to say, “She shall be queen, when she and Aemon marry. They will rule together, just as we have.” But Benifer could see that the king’s words did not entirely please the queen, as he noted in his letters.

(…)

It was the hour of the owl when Queen Alysanne was awoken by her daughter shaking her gently by the arm. “Mother,” Princess Daenerys said, “I’m cold.”

There is no need to dwell on all that followed. Daenerys Targaryen was the darling of the realm, and all that could be done for any man was done for her. There were prayers and poultices, hot soups and scalding baths, blankets and furs and hot stones, nettle tea. The princess was six, and years past being weaned, but a wet nurse was summoned, for there were some who believed that mother’s milk could cure the Shivers. Maesters came and went, septons and septas prayed, the king commanded that a hundred new ratcatchers be hired at once, and offered a silver stag for every dead rat, grey or black. Daenerys wanted her kitten, and her kitten was brought to her, though as her shivering grew more violent it squirmed from her grasp and scratched her hand. Near dawn, Jaehaerys bolted to his feet shouting that a dragon was needed, that his daughter must have a dragon, and ravens took wing for Dragonstone, instructing the Dragonkeepers there to bring a hatchling to the Red Keep at once.

None of it mattered. A day and a half after she had woken her mother from sleep complaining of feeling cold, the little princess was dead. The queen collapsed in the king’s arms, shaking so violently that some feared she had the Shivers too.”

—Fire & Blood - Volume I

May 19, 2019

Standing before the Iron Throne, Dany steps forward and kisses the man she loves. A perfect kiss, an expression of pure love and passion.

We push in on them until we’re tight on their faces – their eyes closed, his hand behind her head, her hand on his cheek.

Dany’s eyes open suddenly as she draws a sharp breath.

Jon’s eyes open as well, already filling with tears. For a moment, neither moves, as if moving will make this real.

In a wider angle, we see Jon with his hand still on the hilt of the dagger he just lodged in Dany’s heart.

Her strength leaves her and she collapses to the marble; he keeps her in his arms as she falls, kneeling down to the floor beside her.

He looks down at what he’s done. Terrible. And necessary. He hopes for one last moment with her.

But her eyes are already glazing over. Winter has come to the Throne Room. Dany lies dead in his arms, Pieta-style, as the snow drifts down.

—GAME OF THRONES “The Iron Throne” - Written by David Benioff & D.B. Weiss - Based on A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin

January 19, 2020

WELT: Again: We know what will happen to the Mother of Dragons. How do you want to surpass that in a novel – with an alternative literary version?

GRRM: Counter question: How many children did Scarlett O'Hara have? In Margaret Mitchell’s novel “Gone with the Wind” she had three children. But in the cinema version of the novels she only had one child. Which version is the only one valid - the one with one or the other with three children? The answer is: neither. Because Scarlett O'Hara never existed, she is a fictional character, not a real person, who would have had real children. Or take “The Little Mermaid”. We know her from the fairytale of the same name by Hans Christian Andersen and from the Disney movie. Which one is the true mermaid? Well, mermaids do not exist. So you can chose the version that you personally like the best. Changes are inevitable in this process. Even if the adaption is as faithful to the literary source material as it was the case with “Game of Thrones”.

—GEORGE R. R. MARTIN “Die Leute kennen ein Ende – nicht das Ende” - WELT 2020 - (Translation)

April 18, 2021

Q: It is my impression that there are parallels between Westeros history and current events in ASOIAF. so in your opinion to what degree is George martin’s history cyclical? Because we have a lot of parallels. For example with the current history and the dance of the dragons.

Elio: You know George even uses that line from talking about the the arms of house Toland, the dragon eating its tail, but it was from the Archmaester Rigney which is a reference to Robert Jordan the writer of the wheel of time, that history is a wheel or time as a circle. I think George certainly deliberately sees, creates parallels. I mean this is a very obvious example, you know if you read The World of Ice and Fire, you saw the family tree of the Targaryens, and the family tree for Jaehaerys and his offspring changes quite a lot when fire and blood comes out. Because George realized that he wanted to create a kind of parallel by introducing another Daenerys. and he said like, i like the symmetry of it, I like the the sort of the way. You could perhaps read it as reflecting on Daenerys’s story, maybe. I wish it was true. I mean I think fans of Daenerys need to be really worried about what’s going to happen to her. Although I guess Game of Thrones maybe has revealed kind of where things may possibly end. Again the journey is going to be very different. I think you know circumstances, things are going to be very different. So there’s a journey that matters. But in any case, so yes I think George uses cycles and things a bit. He likes setting up parallels of events, he likes paralleling characters, he likes paralleling events, and he likes paralleling the past and the present as well.

Linda: I think certainly that when he fleshed out the details of Fire and Blood, even when he first did the sidebars for The World of Ice and Fire, and they just grew. We could see that, okay here he’s looking at foreshadowing or commenting on current events by doing a similar scenario in the past and he definitely likes to play around with those aspects.

[Source]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[dearly]

Pete Wentz (6:39:20 PM): Hey Ryan Ross (6:39:39 PM): hey Pete Wentz (6:40:09 PM): Is this the guy fro poanic at the disco Ryan Ross (6:40:23 PM): yeah im ryan, is this pete? Pete Wentz (6:41:12 PM): Yeah Ryan Ross (6:41:18 PM): hey man Pete Wentz (6:42:37 PM): How arer you Ryan Ross (6:43:17 PM): im not bad, working on a paper for english. hows everything with the new record? Pete Wentz (6:44:37 PM): Going really well Pete Wentz (6:45:04 PM): How's everything wiht your band are those just remixes Ryan Ross (6:46:01 PM): awesome, yeah we only did those on my laptop because we cant get into a studio yet. but we still have alot of those parts live and full band Pete Wentz (6:46:25 PM): Does it have samples like that Pete Wentz (6:46:42 PM): How many people are in the band.... Are you guys all in hicghschool Ryan Ross (6:47:20 PM): do you mean do we use a sampler? our drummer uses a drum sampler which we put some of the stuff on, and he plays some of it Ryan Ross (6:47:43 PM): im in college. im 18 the other three of them are 17 and in high school Pete Wentz (6:48:26 PM): Like of the pure volume site songs what would not be part of your live show Ryan Ross (6:50:18 PM): well right now the synth stuff because we need a keyboard player. we are trying out a few guys soon though. and some of the drum parts are different. Pete Wentz (6:50:48 PM): I absolutely love the stuff Ryan Ross (6:52:16 PM): but we have two guitar players one sings and i play lead. its kind of hard to describe it. we are a rock band but about half of a song will be dance-ish or sort of 80s sounding Ryan Ross (6:52:28 PM): really? wow thanks alot man Ryan Ross (6:53:12 PM): it really is a huge compliment coming from you Ryan Ross (6:53:35 PM): i was actually really suprised you listened to it Ryan Ross (6:53:40 PM): i didnt expect you to see it Pete Wentz (6:54:00 PM): Is there some pics of you guys anywhere Ryan Ross (6:55:10 PM): no, we are taking them pretty soon for the website, its just not done yet. i have some just of me on livejournal. but thats wierd haha Pete Wentz (6:56:09 PM): Yeah fuck get some to me Pete Wentz (6:56:19 PM): I think I may come see you in californaia Ryan Ross (6:56:44 PM): really? Ryan Ross (6:57:08 PM): that would be awesome Pete Wentz (6:57:46 PM): I've been listeneing to those songs nonstop. Is the band a side thing or is it gonna be fulltime? Ryan Ross (6:58:20 PM): no its full time Ryan Ross (6:59:24 PM): well aside from school. which sucks Ryan Ross (6:59:32 PM): but we want to do this Pete Wentz (7:00:00 PM): When are those kids out of school Ryan Ross (7:00:26 PM): the drummer and bass player are graduating early. so like january and other guitarist/singer graduates in the spring Pete Wentz (7:01:16 PM): Nice Pete Wentz (7:01:23 PM): Do you know about my label Ryan Ross (7:01:46 PM): yeah i think i saw something a while ago on a journal entry, is gym class heroes the only band on it right now? Pete Wentz (7:03:10 PM): Yeah. I signed the academy. But they are fbr strictly gym class and I am looking for another Pete Wentz (7:03:33 PM): The cool thing about it is I just met with waner and they want both of the bands and to give me an imprint Ryan Ross (7:03:55 PM): oh cool i like the academy alot, oh i see yea i was going to ask you about that Pete Wentz (7:04:03 PM): Which pretty much means a lot more money to promote cool artists Pete Wentz (7:04:14 PM): You guys plays out a lot? Ryan Ross (7:04:39 PM): thats awesome man. actually no we just kind of started this thing up a few months ago, the show in victorville is going to be our first one Pete Wentz (7:05:51 PM): Really Pete Wentz (7:05:56 PM): Interesting Pete Wentz (7:06:11 PM): How much do you guys practice Ryan Ross (7:06:45 PM): we've been trying to figure out the best way to do this stuff live, and we've been having a hard time on figuring out how to make it sound good. depending on the place we might not be able to use all the electronic stuff that we want to do which sucks but alot of venues, at least here might have a hard time setting us up. we practice at

least 4 times a week so like. between 24-30 hours a week Pete Wentz (7:07:09 PM): Nice Pete Wentz (7:07:21 PM): I am gonna come to the show Ryan Ross (7:08:13 PM): we wish we could more often. but school is getting in the way. and it sucks cause parents think its a waste of time playing music and want me to focus on school. im sure you know how that is. Ryan Ross (7:08:23 PM): thanks alot man really Pete Wentz (7:08:55 PM): I do Pete Wentz (7:09:05 PM): What are peoples reactions to it Ryan Ross (7:10:04 PM): some good some bad. everyone is so into post hardcore stuff these days that some kids just brush it off. which is fine but then some kids like it cause its a little different i guess Pete Wentz (7:11:30 PM): Can that kid sing live? Ryan Ross (7:12:54 PM): yeah, he's been taking voice lessons for a little bit so thats starting to help him Pete Wentz (7:13:19 PM): Is he on? I mean on here he sounds awesome Ryan Ross (7:14:21 PM): yeah he's on pitch, we recorded that stuff with like a 100 dollar vocal mic. the only effects we used was pretty much reverb on the main parts. Pete Wentz (7:14:42 PM): Yeah sounds good kind of like patrick Pete Wentz (7:14:47 PM): I like it Ryan Ross (7:16:57 PM): yeah thats the only thing we get that alot. and thats just how the kid sings. we like your band but we dont want to sound like you guys, or be compared to fob all the time you know? but yeah he is aware that kids say he sounds like patrick so he's just trying different vocal stuff sometimes. Pete Wentz (7:19:06 PM): Here's the thing if I show you guys interest a lot of crappy labels are gonna come and do the same and I don't want a huge mess out there. I mean how interested are you guys in going fulltime when you can Pete Wentz (7:19:19 PM): Yeah you'll get eh patrock thing but how many people. Sound like hime Ryan Ross (7:19:47 PM): so you really think we've got potential then? Pete Wentz (7:19:54 PM): I do Ryan Ross (7:20:05 PM): i've wanted to play in a band for my job ever since i started high school at least. Ryan Ross (7:20:07 PM): we all want to do this Ryan Ross (7:21:05 PM): its like i cant put enough dedication into anything exept playing guitar and writing Pete Wentz (7:23:01 PM): I'm with you Ryan Ross (7:24:05 PM): but yeah. i cant see myself doing anything else but playing in a band, cause every job i've ever had ive hated it Pete Wentz (7:24:57 PM): You don't have a picture of the band Ryan Ross (7:25:44 PM): no, but if you need it i could have my buddy take some tomorrow at practice Pete Wentz (7:26:58 PM): That would be rad Ryan Ross (7:27:37 PM): okay we'll take some Ryan Ross (7:28:08 PM): are you online much? Pete Wentz (7:33:12 PM): Sometimes Ryan Ross (7:33:35 PM): okay, i was just wondering if this was your email incase you arent on i'll just send them Pete Wentz (7:34:17 PM): Yeah send it here for sure Ryan Ross (7:34:36 PM): okay Ryan Ross (7:34:55 PM): dude this better not be a joke, it better be you Pete Wentz (7:35:12 PM): It is Pete Wentz (7:35:34 PM): But there are a lot of fakers out there Ryan Ross (7:35:55 PM): okay. yeah i know someone has shown me like fake journals of you and stuff. thats creepy Ryan Ross (7:36:10 PM): thats why i asked if it was you for sure Pete Wentz (7:36:32 PM): This guy who is iming me is your manager Ryan Ross (7:37:03 PM): is it xxxtoughffxxx ? Pete Wentz (7:37:22 PM): Yeah Ryan Ross (7:37:38 PM): i dont know if he's our manager. he's our friend, he's been helping us out with a website, merch and the show in victorville Ryan Ross (7:38:35 PM): he's starting a company up and he wants to help us out Pete Wentz (7:43:04 PM): Ah I got t Pete Wentz (7:43:32 PM): It Pete Wentz (7:43:37 PM): You guys are awesome and if its what I think it is I want ti to be thenext academy Ryan Ross (7:44:58 PM): wow thanks alot. i hope you like the stuff live, its not completely different but it is different. i mean the singing is the same and all that. Pete Wentz (7:47:46 PM): cool Pete Wentz (7:48:06 PM): You guys look good. The chicks gonna be swooning? Ryan Ross (7:48:38 PM): once we get

a keyboard player who can do all of the sampling we want to do it will be alot better too. its like we know how we want to sound, but just finding the right way to do it i guess is what we are working on. Ryan Ross (7:48:40 PM): hahaha Ryan Ross (7:48:51 PM): i dont know man, we look alright i guess Ryan Ross (7:48:57 PM): we look young Pete Wentz (7:49:42 PM): Youngs not abd at all Pete Wentz (7:49:47 PM): How does the singiner look Ryan Ross (7:50:05 PM): dead sexy. Ryan Ross (7:50:41 PM): he's no pete wentz. but still Pete Wentz (7:51:42 PM): Hahaha Pete Wentz (7:51:54 PM): Goddamn as long as he looks cool.singing Pete Wentz (7:52:14 PM): For sure send me pics and all how many songs you guys have? Ryan Ross (7:52:39 PM): haha Ryan Ross (7:53:00 PM): kk Ryan Ross (7:53:54 PM): we've only got 4 right now, its been tough to write since school started and everyone's busier. and those are the first 4 songs we've written as a band. at the show we'll play those and a cover of new order maybe. or depeche mode. we dont know yet Pete Wentz (7:56:08 PM): Nice Pete Wentz (7:56:21 PM): I gotta run Pete Wentz (7:56:32 PM): But ill hit you on here later Pete Wentz (7:56:38 PM): Send me those pics and write the hits Ryan Ross (7:56:43 PM): okay dude. good talking to you Pete Wentz (7:56:43 PM): Peaaaaaace Ryan Ross (7:56:44 PM): hahaha Ryan Ross (7:56:47 PM): later man Pete Wentz is away from the computer as of 7:56:51 PM. Auto response from Pete Wentz: Igot99problems Pete Wentz is back at the computer as of 10:05:48 PM. Pete Wentz is away from the computer as of 10:06:23 PM.

[exosmutfactory]

Royal Pains

stunning gif by tipannies

❥ This might be the most daring one shot of mine to date, so! Here we go

— Pairing: You & Baekhyun

— Genre/AU: smut, 

— Word Count: 2.8k

— Rating: 18(more like 21 >.<)+ (M)

— [ Contains: Plot ofc (can’t be helped). Some restraints ;) deepthroating, airplay/choking, slight degradation, voyeurism (eep), etc! ]

❥ This was a lot for me to even proof read okay, let me post this here and run

ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥ ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥ ღ♥ღ♥ღ♥

Byun Baekhyun was never an easy man to please.

He’s belligerent, impatient and way too stiff for a man in his late-twenties. Though you suppose that is what comes with the responsibility of leading a kingdom. Nothing short of aggression and authority is expected of him with his title of power. And women across the land enjoy eating bare minimum affection out the palm of his stern hand - except for you.

If he’s a cold-blooded king, you are his ice queen to match.

You were that inwardly hotheaded, steel fratetrain of a princess that didn’t take shit from anyone, let alone the soon-to-be king whose name you never could remember yet face you never forget. He was always trying to boss you around your own house and intimidating all other men that tried to pursue you. And yet the annoying crown prince left quite the impression on you during those awkward royal-arranged dates and accidental yet totally coincidental meetings at night under the shining stars. 

You still ask yourself how you went from a love-hate courting arrangement to being the one to receive his late-night undivided attention and witnessing his eyes taking on the softest of expressions. Maybe you were a saint in your previous life.

But of course, there’s only a certain amount of time before you push each other’s buttons again. Keeping the peace balanced on a very sensitive scale will tilt out of order and end up sailing across the room eventually. Only so many small bickerings before your stubbornness straight-up rivals his assertiveness. Some occurrences of these types of arguments are better than others…

Much better than the one right now.

Someone calls your name. A deep voice that can be soft and melodic or choppy like an all-consuming storm deep at sea depending on the situation. In this instance, you can clearly hear the thunder in their tone that matches the hard look in their brown eyes when you raise your head from the blanket in your hands. “Baekhyun?” You murmur, head tilting in mild curiosity. Trying your best to ignore how good he looks in a white dress shirt, black slacks and a matching blazer that is complemented by his slightly pushed back hair.

He says your name again through gritted teeth, gesturing to the patio doors that lead out to the garden with a ring covered hand, “Did you dismiss the gardener?”

“His wife went into labor,” You justify, continuing to work on the red wool with soft clinks of the knitting needles.  

“The head chef?”

“A family emergency.”

You hear his teeth click together before he utters, “And the maid?”

Your needles are set down on your lap at that, “Nope. I fired her.” You chirp, irritation swelling in your chest at the mention of the wrench as you pick them back up. Counting back from 20 to will away your bubbling anger. 19, 18, 17-

Baekhyun inches closer in all his angry glory, black dress-shoes tapping on the marble floor. “And what reason do you have for that?”

“She was going around spewing bullshit about her being your fucking mistress.” You spat, clutching the needles so hard they bite into your skin.

He takes a deep deep breath, chuckling humorlessly. “So,” His hands are clasped behind his back, leaning forward to meet you eye-to-eye from your spot on a custom made leather couch with the tiniest of revengeful smiles. “Because of jealousy you decided to fire our 5th maid of the month.”

You know you should back off; try to contain your anger and let him have his little moment with soft words of compromise - but oh, the memory of catching that woman spraying the collar of his shirts with her nauseating perfume this morning… You’re murmuring under your breath before you can fully comprehend the reaction you’ll get. “Not my fault she was a pest and definitely not my fault for all the others you fired.” The others being gentlemen that respected your space and accompanied you on the loneliest of days by complementing your improving knitting skills and bonding over tear-jerking novels.

It’s silent for a few moments, and then Baekhyun chuckles, running a hand through his hair, “Always going out your way to give me a fucking headache.”

“If I’m a headache, you’re an eyesore,” You mutter under your breath, looking away. You can’t even bear to face him after that.

“An eyesore?” Baekhyun muses. You choose not to respond, dead-set on glaring a hole into the farthest wall as you will away the urge to cry.

Baekhyun grabs your chin and before you can snap at him, he’s kissing you with fever. The rough way his teeth tug at your bottom lip making you gasp into his mouth, the perfect opportunity for him to explore your wet caven. Blanket forgotten at your feet as he pulls you up and backs you up to the nearest wall; pelvis flush to yours. “Let’s see how much of an eyesore I am after this.”

He hoists you up into the air before you can say anything; carrying you bridal-style to your bedroom as butterflies nervously flutter around in your stomach. You know where this is heading. Not even blinding rage can keep the fire from growing between your legs.

Baekhyun lowers you to the bed gently as if you are having your first night together all over again. Slender hands pulling at your blue ballroom dress and the blossoms of daisies out of the carefully woven braid in your hair. Scattering them on the sheets of your California King sized bed as he presses his lips back to yours.

You gladly recuperate his endless kisses, relaxing further under the familiar weight of his body and the soft caress of his wandering hands…

Until the tell-tale sound of a lock clicking into place reaches your ears.

Your eyes snap open but you’re a second too late; both of your hands, cuffed, to a bar in the headboard. And it’s not with the usually fluffy baby pink ones. No. You’re chained to the bed like that of a prisoner under the unforgiving guard of your husband; gazing down at you with the darkest of eyes. “B-Baek-” A firm hand wraps around your throat, silencing you.

“I think..” He hums, eyes lazily running over your helpless form; a smirk playing on his lips, “That you’ve done enough talking for today.”

Another look from him keeps you from protesting through your parted lips; his thumb rubbing unhurriedly along your neck leaving you to gulp as he steps off the bed. You lift your head to see what he’s doing, only catching a glimpse of him pulling off his tie before the handcuffs rattle against the headboard.

Baekhyun looks at you from over his shoulder with a tsk, completely loosening the silk material from around his neck before approaching the bed again.

You bear your neck, expecting him to tie it there only for the soft material to be pressed against your eyes.

“Since I’m such an eyesore,” He mocks, tying the blue material firmly around your head, “Guess you won’t be needing to see, will you?”

Your noise of protest only earns you a sharp smack to your sensitive core, making your thighs snap shut with a yelp.

“Keep those legs open,” He warns in a low tone, rummaging around the room while you quickly obey; spreading wide and straining your ears to hear him. Your cheeks darkening at the tell-tale signs of arousal covering the inside of your thighs.

“Look at you,” Baekhyun muses by your side; the lightest brush of his fingers across your folds making you gasp, bucking your hips. The slender digits tease over your thigh before rubbing the wetness into your skin. “Already dripping onto the sheets.”

“Baek.” You bite back a whine, holding your breath at the light rustle of clothes and obscene slick sounds that meet your ears. Baekhyun’s weight is fully dipping next to you in the bed; lewd wet sounds coming from lazy strokes of his cock. You whimper, wishing you could see how he looks right now, all flushed cheeks with those brown eyes so blown with lust that they appear black. His soft pants and quiet groans put you in a state of arousal that you’re rudely awoken from by a sharp pain on your thigh. Your whole body jolting up with a shout. “Baekhyun, what the fuck-” You pause, breath catching at the leathery texture gliding across your sensitive skin. 

“It’s been a while, hmm?” Baekhyun muses with a chuckle. A faint whoosh the only warning you get before it’s coming down on you again. You gasp, biting your lip as the brief pain ebbs away; the implications of him using the riding crop sinking in. This definitely isn’t going to be one of those nights he goes easy on you. No, you’re fucked and can only get more fucked from here.

The sinful sounds of skin against skin and your quiet whimpers fill the air as he continues to spank your thighs with the pleasantly painful material. One hit being so close to your wet cunt you arch your back with a broken whimper of his name, nearly cumming at the lingering burn it leaves alone.

“Tsk always so greedy,” Baekhyun murmurs; pace increasing on his cock while dropping the leather crop next to you. The volume of his groans indicating his orgasm making you tug at your restraints; helplessly squirming in the sheets. “B-Baek, please.”

“What do you want, sweetheart.” He sighs, hand resting so high on your thigh you tremble in anticipation.

“Y-Your-” You bite hard on your lip, throwing your head back when he brushes his thumb over your throbbing clit. “Your cock!” You gasp, trying your best not to melt under his touch; thighs trembling in want. “I-I want to suck your cock, p-please..”

“Hmm.” Baekhyun bites your earlobe, drawing a gasp from your throat before you sense his clothed thighs straddling your chest. The wet tip of his pressing against your bottom lip.

You lick your suddenly dry lips, tasting his precum as he slowly slides into your awaiting mouth. The weight of him on your tongue making you keen under him, choking a little when he hits the back of your throat. His quiet moan shooting heat right down to your core.

“Such a good girl.” He sighs, firmly gripping your hair; your eyes welling up with tears every time he sinks into your throat. “So tight and warm for me.”

You moan, curling your tongue around his tip when he pulls out to let you catch your breath. The way his hold tightens in your hair has you gulping down his precum, preparing for what comes next.

Baekhyun quickly slides his cock down your throat with ease, groaning as your nose hits his pelvis. The way he takes your breath away with every quickened thrust has you moaning along with him, swallowing around his thick girth as his grunts meet your ears, loving the sound of his cock stuffing you full.

You could keep going like this for hours. Letting him fuck your throat raw and leave your jaw aching for days. His high pitched moans and merciless thrusts leaving the biggest inferno between your trembling legs.

“Ah.” He suddenly grunts, slipping out of your mouth and pulling away before you feel the hot spurts of cum dripping on your chest and down to the messy sheets below.

“Fuck.” Baekhyun sighs, not paying your whine of disappointment any mind as he shuffles farther down your body. The soft material of his pants brushing over the back of your thighs barely a warning before he’s slipping into your weeping core. You gasp, tugging hard at your restraints. The delicious burn of his thick length making you clench hard on his cock.

“Mmm.” He moans, pushing in to the hilt. “Always so wet for me.”

You bite your lip in vain to keep quiet as he wraps his hand around your throat; his loud groans and your quiet whimpers fill the room along with the slamming of the headboard and the wet smacks of his cock ramming into your walls.

“So so greedy.” Baekhyun chuckles darkly, picking up the pace with a tight grip on your hips. You moan, but a certain, small noise reaches your ears. A distant whimper. Misplaced for the privacy of your bedroom.

“I can feel you clenching down on me.” Baekhyun pants, pulling you out of your thoughts as he angles his hips; the brute force of his thrusts slamming into your cervix in that painfully pleasant way he knows makes your back arch and toes curl. Your cunt gripping him like a vice. “Greedy girl. Fuck, your pussy was made for my cock.”

You can do nothing but arch your back, breathlessly moaning his name until you feel the tie being pulled from your face. Your blurry eyes opening as it slips down to rest around your sweaty neck, the shocking view in front of you enough to make your building orgasm stop dead in its tracks. Because there. Just beyond Baekhyun’s gloriously clothed form, is three familiar figures kneeling near the foot of the bed.

“Finally caught on, sweetheart?” Baekhyun chuckles, slowing down to grind against your clit as you choke on your words; jaw dropping at his audacity. At the display of the maids you’ve fired watching on with wide, envious eyes, or the way he is milking your g-spot, you do not know. But damn if it doesn’t make you tighten more around him..

Your eyes can’t seem to look away from the people kneeling with their hands tied behind their backs. Three sets of hungry eyes focused on the pair of you as the palace guards keep their gazes away out of respect. Your attention isn’t brought back to Baekhyun until he hisses, releasing your neck to push your thighs to your chest and tangle his hand in your hair. “Keep your eyes.” He growls, yanking your head back to stare directly into your eyes. “On me.”

You gasp loudly, clamping down on him with a nod. Doing your very best to keep up the new position despite the burn in your hamstring, the throbbing at the roots of your hair under his unforgiving grip and his punishing thrusts. The tip of his cock nailing your g-spot without fail as your thighs shake; pressing your feet to his chest for stability. The slight shift in position making you cry out in bliss.

“Hmmm is my greedy whore going to cum?” Baekhyun asks in that slight condescending tone that drives you wild. You can’t look away from his fiery filled eyes, so many emotions of love and lust swirling in the orbs that you find yourself drowning deeper in the tighter the coil builds up in your core. Gushing around him as the others in the room are brought back to your attention by the restless shuffling coming from the floor.

Baekhyun chuckles at the red coloring your cheeks. “Dirty girl.” He murmurs, brushing his lips over your ankle before holding your hips down to the bed. “You enjoy being watched. Your pussy is weeping for it.” He gives your clit a swift smack that has you arching your back with a cry of his name; shaking at the seams. A burning stare catches your eye just as he’s sliding his hand down your stomach and between your quivering thighs.

Baekhyun’s fingers rub mercilessly on your throbbing clit while you’re locked eyes with one of the men who was your previous maid; feeling a sense of courageous sexual power surge through your veins as you are finally brought over the edge. Until Baekhyun slips out the moment you clench down on him.

You're left gasping under him as your walls spasm in defeat; a broken sob ripped from your throat as he strokes himself to completion. His cum landing on top of your mound and dripping down your quivering entrance at the tail end of your ruined orgasm.

Baekhyun hums, lazily rubbing his tip over your sensitive core as he takes in the tears streaming down your cheeks; softly cupping your cheek as he waves the others away without a glance. He waits until they are gone before moving to release you, planting a kiss to both your red wrists before meeting your eyes with his now soft brown ones that you’ve come to love so much. “Next time talk to me first before dismissing anyone from work, okay?”

You look at him for a moment with a sniffle before nodding, letting him pull you into his warm arms. Your eyes narrow behind his back as he whispers sweet words in your ear..

Yeah, Baekhyun doesn’t expect to be put on probation from sex for the next two weeks..

Or the confirmed pregnancy test two weeks after that.

[religioused]

Queen Esther and the Orange Shirt

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22 (Contemporary English Version)

The king and Haman were dining with Esther 2 and drinking wine during the second dinner, when the king again said, “Esther, what can I do for you? Just ask, and I will give you as much as half of my kingdom!”

3 Esther answered, “Your Majesty, if you really care for me and are willing to help, you can save me and my people. That’s what I really want, 4 because a reward has been promised to anyone who kills my people. Your Majesty, if we were merely going to be sold as slaves, I would not have bothered you.”

5 “Who would dare to do such a thing?” the king asked.

6 Esther replied, “That evil Haman is the one out to get us!”

Haman was terrified, as he looked at the king and the queen.

9 Then Harbona, one of the king’s personal servants, said, “Your Majesty, Haman built a tower seventy-five feet high beside his house, so he could hang Mordecai on it. And Mordecai is the very one who spoke up and saved your life.”

“Hang Haman from his own tower!” the king commanded. 10 Right away, Haman was hanged on the tower he had built to hang Mordecai, and the king calmed down.

20 Mordecai wrote down everything that had happened. Then he sent letters to the Jews everywhere in the provinces 21 and told them:

Each year you must celebrate on both the fourteenth and the fifteenth of Adar, 22 the days when we Jews defeated our enemies. Remember this month as a time when our sorrow was turned to joy, and celebration took the place of crying. Celebrate by having parties and by giving to the poor and by sharing gifts of food with each other.

The book of Esther does not mention God, prayer, or covenant,(1) and there is not even much theology in Esther.(2) The lack of religious behavior might have reduced the book’s popularity.(3) J.G. McConville, who wrote The Daily Study Bible commentary on Esther, notes that just because God is not mentioned that does not mean that Esther does not teach about God.(4)

There are times when the Bible is political. Esther is political, making the power people in the Persian Empire look bad. Subplots in Esther mock the Persian court and king.(5) The thinly disguised insults were probably enjoyed a lot by the ancient Israelites who listened to the story of Queen Esther.

McConville says Esther “is by any standards a brilliantly written story.”(6) Commentator William Neil gives us the sense that Esther might not be historical but contains enough history to feel realistic. There is enough drama and nationalism in Esther to appeal to the children of Israel.(7) Contributors to the New American Bible state one purpose of the book of Esther is the “glorification of Jewish people.”(8) One theologian considers the book of Esther to be a short novel, a novella, about Jewish people living away from their homeland.(9) While I am very uncomfortable with high levels of nationalism, members of oppressed minority groups need high levels of self-worth to thrive in the face of oppression.

The Bible is a book for the oppressed, for all the oppressed. As we remember Orange Shirt Day, I am going to say that again. The Bible is a book for all oppressed people. I am not going to tell Indigenous people what the story of Esther means to them. I will share some of what the narrative means to me.

The Israelites, who were carried off into slavery in other nations, faced oppression. The passage in the book of Esther is about an extreme act of oppression, the attempt to kill all Jewish people. We study this story on a day when we remember the oppression of Indigenous children who attended boarding schools. The Canadian Encyclopedia says an estimated 6 thousand children died at residential schools.(10)

The school day for Indigenous children started at 5:30 am when the children were expected to get up. Students were malnourished and vulnerable to tuberculosis and influenza. The teachers were generally poorly qualified, and students did not develop the skills needed to be successful when they returned to their communities or went into the larger workforce.(11) Students and parents protested the schools. A few students stole food, ran away, or set fires. Parents and political leaders protested the “harsh conditions.”(12) The students, parents, and political leaders who acted out and who protested strike me as the heroes of the Indigenous residential school era.

The impact of policies that oppressed Indigenous students in Canada continue to this day. While a few Canadians of European heritage see residential schools as an old problem and might not want to talk about it, many Indigenous people daily see the impact in the current lives of their extended families. One way that non-Indigenous people can recognize the inherent, God-given dignity of Indigenous people is to listen, with a sensitive heart, to the stories. I see that as a spiritual call, not as a political statement.

Jewish people around the world remember the story of Queen Esther, her courageous coming out, and the salvation of Jewish people. The holiday is Purim, a word that means lots.(13) The name of the Jewish holiday means lots because Haman cast lots to decide the day Jewish people should be executed. If we were naming the holiday now, we might call it lottery.

Wong Wai Ching Angela is a theologian. She was teaching at The Christian University of Hong Kong when she wrote a short commentary on the book of Esther. Angela makes the point that people in Hong Kong live between two competing sets of values, western values, and Chinese values. Those living in Hong Kong are like the Jewish people living in Persia – living with a tension between being under a colonial power and being Chinese.(14)

Indigenous people live with the tension of living as Canadians and having an Indigenous identity. While Canada is not a traditional imperial, colonial power, some of Canada’s institutions and approaches to First Nations people were developed when Canada was a colony. A few of the policies implemented regarding Indigenous people reflect Canada’s colonial history. Some members of minority groups living in Canada can relate to Esther and to the injustice Esther’s people faced.

The timing of Purim, a day when Jewish people celebrate the story of Esther, remains meaningful. Joseph Stalin was a “ruthless” dictator, who was responsible for the deaths of “millions of innocent people.”(15) He was believed to have had “bloody plans” to solve what he saw as a ‘Jewish problem’ in the Soviet Union.(16) In 1953, when the situation was seen to be a crisis, Joseph Stalin died. He died on Purim.(17)

Some of you might remember the 1990s Gulf War that took place after Iraq invaded Kuwait. For months, Sadam Hussein, Iraq's president, threatened to use SCUD missiles containing “deadly chemical gas" to ‘burn half of Israel.’(18) I suspect many Israelis braced themselves for the worst. As I recall, Israel did not suffer an enormous loss of life. According to a Wikipedia article, three Israelis were killed by missiles, and 71 additional Israelis died as an indirect result of the missiles.(19) The conflict ended on Purim.(20)

The book of Ester is a story of fear, threats, courage, coming out, salvation, and celebration. After a competition, Esther, a beautiful Jewish woman, becomes the new queen of Persia. Esther’s Jewish identity was not well known.

Jewish people fell out of favor with powerful people in Persia. Haman was an important official in Persia, so important that people were supposed to bow to him. Mordecai, a well-known Jewish man, refused to kneel or bow to Haman. Mordecai explained that he did not kneel because he was Jewish. When Haman learned this, he wanted all Jewish people killed.

Mordecai learned of the plan to kill all Jewish people. He put on sackcloth and mourned. Queen Esther, who was a closeted Jewish woman, is notified of the plot. She is asked to appeal to the king to save her people, and she does that. Her first step is to go to the king and to invite the king and Haman to dinner. At the dinner, she invites the king and Haman to a second dinner. This is where we pick up the story in today’s lectionary reading. And you might be able to understand the sense of the poetic justice or the karma of the narrative. Haman had gallows built to kill Mordecai. Haman is hanged on the gallows that he built for Mordecai.

The poetic justice surpasses a modern case of poetic justice. Robert Watson-Watt is generally considered to be the ‘father of radar.’ In the 1930s, he worked with a team that invented radar, a technology that helped detect the presence of aircraft “at any time of the day and in any weather conditions.”(21) When in Canada, Robert was reported to have been caught speeding by a constable with a radar gun. Robert told the constable, “Had I known what you were going to do with it, I would never have invented it.”(22) And if you ever received a speeding ticket, you might be secretly enjoying the irony that the one who helped invent radar got a speeding ticket because of radar.

While a quick read of Esther may give us the sense that there is nothing particularly spiritual or religious about the book, Esther speaks volumes about God’s love and priorities. The fact that the book of Esther builds up the morale and self-esteem of oppressed people says a lot about God. It tells us that God is present and active whenever oppressed people are being encouraged and built up. As people of faith, it is a holy and sacred duty to encourage and build up people, especially people who face systemic oppression. That is not a political statement; it is a spiritual statement, and it is a statement about our God.

The story of Esther takes place after a disaster. Because they were displaced and enslaved by war, there were children of Israel living in Persia. Orange Shirt Day is a reality only because of a disaster of a policy of having boarding schools to teach Indigenous children. We are in the disaster known as the COVID pandemic. During times of personal pain that may blot out the word God and prayer in the narratives of our hearts and lives, Purim speaks to us.

I am going to conclude with a quote from Rabbi Manis Friedman, as he reflects on the meaning of Purim. “God became real enough that we don’t have to refer to Him to know that He is there . . . That is a real achievement. God has become real to us. Our relationship has gotten stronger after the destruction, not weaker.”(23)

Notes

1 Wong Wai Ching Angela. “Esther.” Global Bible Commentary. (Nashville, Tennessee: Abingdon Press, 2004), 139, mentions lack of references to God, covenant, and prayer. McConville mentions a lack of references to God. J.G. McConville. The Daily Study Bible: Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther. (Edinburgh: St. Andrew Press, 1985), 153.

2 McConville (1985), 153.

3 Angela (2004), 139.

4 McConville (1985), 153.

5 Angela (2004), 137.

6 McConville (1985), 154.

7 William Neil. William Neil's One Volume Bible Commentary. (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1973), 219.

8 New American Bible. St. Joseph Edition. (New York: Catholic Book Pub., 1992), 500.

9 Angela (2004), 135.

10 “Residential Schools in Canada.” The Canadian Encyclopedia. n.d., 22 September 2021. <https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools>.

11 “Residential Schools in Canada.” (2021) <https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools>.

12 “Residential Schools in Canada.” (2021) <https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/residential-schools>.

13 “What is Purim?” Tori Avey. n.d., 09 September 2021. <https://toriavey.com/what-is-purim/>.

14 Angela (2004), 135.

15 “Purim: What is Purim?” Chabad.org. n.d., 05 September 2021.

<https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/645309/jewish/What-Is-Purim.htm>.

16 “Purim: What is Purim?” (2021)

<https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/645309/jewish/What-Is-Purim.htm>.

17 “Purim: What is Purim?” (2021)

<https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/645309/jewish/What-Is-Purim.htm>.

18 Tzvi Jacobs. “Purim Saddam.” Chabad.org. n.d., 19 September 2021.

<https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/39446/jewish/Purim-Saddam.htm>.

19 “1991 Iraqi Rocket Attacks on Israel.” Wikipedia. July 2021, 19 September 2021. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1991_Iraqi_rocket_attacks_on_Israel>.

20 “Purim: What is Purim?” (2021)

<https://www.chabad.org/holidays/purim/article_cdo/aid/645309/jewish/What-Is-Purim.htm>.

21 “Watson-Watt, Sir Robert.” English Heritage. n.d., 18 September 2021. <https://www.english-history.org.uk/visit/blue-plaques/robert-watson-watt/>.

22 “Watson-Watt, Sir Robert.” (2021) <https://www.english-history.org.uk/visit/blue-plaques/robert-watson-watt/>.

23 Manis Friedman. “The Meaning of Purim in 2 Minutes.” Rabbi Manis Friedman. 08 March 2020, 25 September 2021. <https://youtu.be/kiMCYYEznfE>.

[meimae]

19/06/21

Finished the first volume of 本好きの下剋上 司書になるためには手段を選んでいられません yesterday!

感想

I was initially only going to test out reading the first volume since the series is overwhelmingly long (26 parts!), but I quickly realized that it's a pretty good book to practice reading words I already know. Natural SRS, hurrah!

Of course, there are still plenty of words to mine, but if you read my overview last month, I wrote that at the very least I don't have to look up too many words compared to the other stuff I've read, so it's pretty relaxing and I can just concentrate on reading and enjoying the story.

I'm a self-professed bookworm and this book, with its title alone, caught my eye. I've always loved to collect and read books, and would absolutely choose the library or the bookstore over most social interactions, and if I can, whoever's with me is immediately required to check the book selection, too! 笑

The protagonist, マイン, however, is on another level. She does not only throw a tantrum when she could not get her hands on a book, but she's dedicating all of her energy on making all of the materials to make one herself. If that isn't dedication, I don't know what is.

I've heard some mixed reviews about this character; how she is especially whiney in the first volume which turns a lot of people off. But you gotta hand it to her. This poor girl who's only dream is to be a librarian (aside from getting buried and dying under a heap of books), wastes away and gets transported to a bookless world, into a pitifully weak and feverish body, and she constantly has to deal with the inconveniences of an undeveloped world. Of course she's going to complain!

This 異世界 is quite interesting, since it doesn't exactly rely on world-building, but more on showing what common modern things are not available yet. Sometimes, I can't help but think that it can be kind of historically inaccurate, but then I think again and remember that, of course it won't be accurate to real world history: it's literally a different world! 笑

Her effort to take the first steps on making paper and writing materials is very admirable, and I'm excited to see where else it will take her.

STATS

Ah yes, the most interesting part of the process, stats and graphs time! I love making these little edits and graphs at the end of every good reading session. It really reminds me of how far I've come, and shows me exactly where I can improve my approach in immersion. Also, it's a great amount of proof that, yes, I absolutely can read and listen to Japanese media by just, well, reading and listening to media!

I also listened to the audiobook equivalent of 本好き, and it was so fun to listen to since the voice acting was really good, and because I read it first, it was just as comprehensible. Definitely will be doing the same with the next volumes, and with other novels as well!

Total Characters: 161,544

Total Time Read: 18:23:04

Ave. Chars per Hour: 8,807

TIME SPENT READING & SPEED

(Includes everything including the あとがき, because why not)

I was consistently reading anywhere between 20 minutes and an hour (average 38 minutes), which just shows you that the shorter chapters of light novels are easier to consume especially while using the timebox method, and that this particular book (and potentially the rest of the series) is very comprehensible material for me, and is great reading practice to solidify previously mined words. Still intensively reading as always - looking up every word I don't know the meaning or reading of, including the occasional grammar point.

This Characters per Hour graph is shiny and new! I have been holding off from posting it until I finished another book. Was finally able to gather the data I needed (number of characters per chapter/time spent reading) to make it. It was tedious, but the result was worth it since it very clearly shows improvement with every new book I start and finish.

My legend is arranged by start order, my first couple of finishes being NHKにようこそ! and　ノルウェイの森. If I had known back then that I was improving every step of the way, I wouldn't have felt as bad as I did for taking 9 hours to read a 75,000 character chapter (which by the way, is a pretty normal chunk of time for a beginner to consume such an amount). But also, please ignore anything above 10k/hour from the first two books, as I am sure I switched my Yomichan to an English-Japanese dictionary setup instead of the normal J-J-J-E dictionary setup that I use now, since at the time I desperately wanted a book finish, and so the speed I was reading in seems quite unbelievable.

Still, judging from this graph, my speed seems to have settled at around an 8k starting point to a 10k-ish ending point. Not terrible, but definitely indicates that I need to read more, as a better ability to remember readings and meanings on the fly means better comprehension and eventually, better speed.

-☆-

That's all for this update. I'll be either looking into finishing the other books I've put on hold or maybe I'll pick up the next volume of 本好きor a different book instead.

Catch you all later!

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 38

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Fuck the Canon: Happy Endings For Everyone

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37

Information gathering has always been XingChen’s domain.

It is not precisely that ZiChen lacks the necessary skills to gather information on his own. For many years now, they have been partners on equal ground, sharing both pleasant and unpleasant tasks. But some areas are better left to XingChen. There is something about his placid nature and gentle countenance that invites confidence. People simply find themselves telling XingChen the most intimate details of their lives, frequently without any urging on his part.  

ZiChen does not posses this particular skill. He is certainly capable of extracting information, but it is always done by a more direct means. XingChen’s way may yield better results, but it also takes a great amount of time and restraint, neither of which ZiChen has in abundance.  

Even now, waiting in Nie HuaiSang’s receiving hall, he finds that his patience is growing thin.

XingChen hates it here.

Even as a child, XingChen had disliked the Immortal Mountain, the court rules, the pretense of politeness, and the clandestine tactics. At the age of twelve, he could play the court games with the best of them. The fact that he had survived YanLing DaoRen’s reign speaks volumes of his abilities and his endurance. But ZiChen does not remember ever seeing XingChen truly happy here, even as a child, even during those early, peaceful years, before YanLing DaoRen had fully sank into the grip of madness.

ZiChen had been fourteen years old when YanLing DaoRen himself had tasked him with protecting the little Prince.

At the time, ZiChen had been little better than a servant. The Song family may have begun its service under the Immortal Empress herself, but they had never climbed to any position that matters. ZiChen’s grandfather had been the Lieutenant General for all of three months, before a mercenary arrow ended that advancement. ZiChen’s uncle had died in a cradle. And ZiChen’s father, a mild-mannered, generous man, had always had a better head for numbers than any other skill which may have elevated his family. As a teenager, ZiChen had been a scrappy, permanently angry youth, who took forever to grow into his ears. He had picked fights with anyone who looked at him the wrong way, and took pride in winning each time.

YanLing DaoRen had liked ZiChen, but he had throughly misunderstood his character. ZiChen may have been devoted to the little Prince, but his devotion was impossible to come by, and in the end, he had none left over for the Emperor himself. When YanLing DaoRen had decided that the little Prince had to die, he had found, to his chagrin, that the youth he had tasked with protecting XingChen had become his greatest obstacle.

ZiChen understands why XingChen hates the Immortal Mountain. It is not only the memories of his past life that give him discomfort, but who he is forced to be in the present, taking part in affairs he would rather avoid. They had come searching for a murderer, but XingChen is currently trapped in a pitched battle between the Emperor and the Council, trying to find a middle ground on a matter that should be the least of their concerns.

ZiChen believes that the Emperor should marry whoever he wants. He does not understand why a dozen sect leaders and every Imperial official somehow must have a say on the subject.

Still, when in the Immortal Mountain City, XingChen is the Emperor’s only blood relative. He may be the notorious Rogue Prince who had abandoned his rank and his title, but when XingChen spoke, even the High Councilor did not dare interrupt.  

It is not a bad thing, for the Empress’ brother to shake up the existing power structures. Between XingChen and the Emperor, the Council will find themselves reconsidering the scope of their influence. But this left ZiChen having to do everything else, even those tasks which he is utterly unqualified to perform.

Luckily, there is one person in this forsaken City that ZiChen does not abhor, and if allowed to see him, ZiChen is likely to find his task much easier to accomplish.  

Finally, a servant appears from a side door, just when ZiChen is about to lose the last of his patience.

“The Royal Companion will see you now.”

ZiChen follows her into the Royal Companion’s study, a room as eccentric as its owner.

Silver-green drapes, a fortune worth of silk, temporarily hide the Royal Companion’s desk. The green carpet is so thick, ZiChen feels his feet sinking with each step. The space is not small, but it is visually overwhelming. Dozens of paintings lay discarded in piles. Shelves filled with books and scrolls and sheafs of loose paper cover an entire wall. A single, intricately carved stand holds a heavy saber, its steel glinting menacingly next to messy piles of silver brocade. Another stand holds a dozen painted fans, each one impossibly delicate, the lines feather-light.

Nie HuaiSang is seated at his desk, another fan spread out on a small stand, a paint brush in his hand. He does not rise from his seat.

ZiChen does not feel himself slighted. He respects this boy, a child really, regardless of his youth and temper. He is the only person ZiChen had ever met whose devotion matches his own. As ZiChen would burn the world for XingChen, Nie HuaiSang would do the same for the Emperor. Their methods may differ, but in essence, he had found they were very much the same where it mattered.

ZiChen bows, “Greeting the Royal Companion to the Emperor.”

“No need for such formality, Daozhang. Come have a seat. Should I ask for tea?”

“No need. I am only here to inquire about the recent events in the Immortal Mountain.”

Nie HuaiSang places his brush aside with care,   “I believe that the Emperor has given me a diluted version of your hunt. Not intentionally, you understand, but he has been-- rather preoccupied with other matters.”

ZiChen fights the urge to roll his eyes. The Emperor is eighteen and in love for the first time. If his behavior in YiLing is anything to go by, preoccupied is a fairly mild word. They are lucky that the Emperor is managing to focus on anything else of importance.  

“I would appreciate a detailed accounting of this-- murderer, and any other information you may have. In turn,” Nie HuaiSang says, “I am willing to place my considerable influence at your disposal in the pursuit of this creature.”

“The Royal Companion is thoughtful and reasonable,” ZiChen says, “How may I repay this generosity?”  

Nie HuaiSang smiles, “As it happens, I am hunting as well. I would very much appreciate your assistance.”

[amimons]

Miraculous Sweet-ember (Sept. 26th)

September 26th: Miraculer,  Oblivio, & Party Crasher  

Miraculer was an action packed episode and the return of the core five battling together. There is so many things I could go on and on about for this one. So much going on that even Ladybug had a hard time prioritizing what to focus on. Our heroes abilities getting taking away by Miraculer and used against them made her a formidable foe.  She also had the assistance of Mayura who managed to snatch the bee miraculous. Chloe’s entire arc this episode was very intriguing. Not only did she fight off an akumatization but her battle with Mayura itself was beyond exceptional. But I want to focus on what happened to Chat Noir.

Chat Noir’s special ability was taken away by Miraculer when she then used Cataclysm against him causing him extreme injury of his ribs. Luckily he had his super suit on to lessen the blow but the damage significantly impacted him in battle. But that did not stop him from trying to defeat Miraculer, get the bee miraculous back, and help Ladybug. His dedication goes above and beyond and seeing him brave out a severe injury for his team and Paris speaks volumes to who he is as a person. I also didn’t expect to see Chat Noir (or maybe any person) suffer from a Cataclysm attack and seeing this happen for the first time (and not just Volpina’s illusion) was intense. 

Oblivio showed us that even without their memories their heroism is apart of who they are and that even when everything is completely reset they know they are meant to be together. With their memory wipe clean from Oblivio we see Marinette and Adrien teaming up to figure out what exactly is going on. Being hit by Oblivio also affected their Kwamis which did not help the situation. So on their own they had to piece together the story of their lives. We saw how naturally they fell into place with each other and how confident they were about the amount of care, trust, and love they have towards each other. Not only did we get a lot of wonderful lovesquare moments we also go to see how they over came this obstacle. 

Since Ladybug is always one step ahead of everything she anticipated that her memory was going to be wipe out so with her lucky charm the memory lost she used it to cleverly inform her to call Master Fu on her phone. Adrien had his own struggle when Plagg bailed on him when he couldn’t remember anything. He soon discovered that without Plagg he was unable to transform. But Adrien does what he does best which is throw himself into any situation to protect those he loves. He disguised himself in a cardboard get up so he can fight side by side with his lady. This episode proved how natural everything is between them. Becoming heroes, their partnership, and falling in love just feels right to them. Not to mention we got a Ladynoir kiss out of all this. 

Party Crasher had an outrageous party at the Agreste mansion...without the consent of Gabriel. Gabriel pretended to leave the house leaving Adrien alone by himself (as usual). Leave to Nino to take advantage of Gabriel being out for the day by coming over with the boys to have a good time with Adrien. What turned into a small gathering, exploded into a massive dude party. It was thanks to Nino that Adrien got to experience another chance of having people over his house in the name of fun. 

Nino’s friendship is extremely beneficial to Adrien. He is always trying to help Adrien have the same experience as any other kid. Adrien is used to a life of isolation and being held to high expectations by his Father. Seeing him get the chance to bond with his classmates and have fun warms my heart. It’s also nice to see the men of the miraculous world come together and support one another and just have harmless fun. The platonic male friendships are always a pleasure to see and very much needed in media. 

About Sweet-ember:

For the month of September I wanted to spread some positivity and praise Miraculous Ladybug on the things I’ve appreciated/enjoyed from the show.

Everyday I’m going to select one particular moment, event, theme, etc. from an episode of Miraculous and shared what I liked from that episode. Each post will discuss 2-3 episodes (from season 1-3; 78 episodes in total).

Whether its something big or small there is something positive that I can take away from every single episode of Miraculous.

Please feel free to add a moment from these particular episodes that you loved to this post as well!

Salt towards the show, characters, ships will not be tolerated!

Sweet-ember posts

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

[18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

[downwiththeficness]

A Need So Great-Chapter 17

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~3,700

Warnings: None

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @buckysalefty @anaeve

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21

They punished him when he got back. He’d been gone for almost two weeks—twelve days—and they took it out on him the second he returned. His work hours lengthened until he was leaving before the sun came up and coming home after midnight. Sometimes he’d key into her apartment, falling into bed next to her with his uniform still on, boots kicked off next to the door.

Eva kept food wrapped in plastic in the fridge for him, pulled his belt free from the loops and at least got his button up off when he was too tired to do it for himself. When she did see him, on the occasions he set foot in the embassy, there were dark circles under his eyes.

Still, he didn’t complain. Not one word. Eva’s own workload had grown, having to pick up all the things that had been sitting on her desk. But, Javier and Steve had taken it upon themselves to do a little when they could. Connie would sometimes bring her lunch and they would chat, Eva having to forgo their usual work out nights until she got caught up.

And still, he seemed to just...take it from them. This went on for almost a month before she said anything. The conversation had been short, brusque in a way that he normally wasn’t, the stress peeking out from behind strained eyes. She didn’t say anything after that.

Eva gave him comfort where she could. She set the coffee maker to an earlier time and made sure that he had a travel mug sitting beside it every morning. She washed the uniforms he sometimes left behind, even going so far as to iron his undershirt and fold it neatly atop the pile on the dresser. This was about the extent of her ability to help and it ate at her.

After the first month, he got a day off and spent most of it asleep, or close to it. He’d crawled in next to her after showering, pulling her into his chest before dropping off into unconsciousness. When she’d woken the next day, he was still asleep.  When she checked in with him mid-morning, he was snoring softly, one arm reaching across the bed to the place where she’d been.

Finally, when lunchtime slipped by, Eva roused him and forced him to come out and eat a little. He did so mechanically, his eyes unfocused. She maneuvered him to lay on the couch after that, pulling all the curtains in her living room closed, the TV at a low volume.

They spent most of the day like this, vegetating on the couch. And then, when the evening came, Eva put more food in him and sent him to bed early while she worked on a few files she’d brought home from the office. The next morning, he’d gone in early, as he had to the month previous, and she didn’t see him for three days.

This went on for another month before the higher ups started to let off. By that time, he’d been worked nearly to the ground and she could see the beginning of burn out start to set in. Eva encouraged him to rest on the days he had off, doing what she could to bring back the determined set of his jaw when he went about his work.

And, when he seemed to come back to his normal self, she set up a dinner at a nice restaurant with Connie and Steve. They worked in tandem to keep the conversation from flowing back into office talk, but weren’t entirely successful.

“I got those photos developed,” Steve said a little too casually. “I have ‘em if you want to take a look.”

Connie took a disdainful sip of her wine, “I told him not to bring them, but he insisted.”

Eva looked at Horacio, who was carefully gauging her reaction. With a shrug, she reached over the table and flicked her fingers at him, indicating that he should hand them over. He leaned down and pulled a manila folder from where he’d stashed it under his chair. Eva took it from him, opening it and pulling out the photos.

She felt her jaw lock with the effort it took to control her face. The first photo was of her, standing in the airport, looking lost. She flipped to the next: moving in. Then, her walking from the parking lot into the embassy, her sitting at a park after her first day staring into the middle distance, and her talking with Javier as they walked on a sidewalk—a conversation she’d forgotten about. That’s when things started to get interesting.

The next photo pictured her standing next to her car down the street from that little hotel, Horacio leaning over her. His expression looked frustrated. She was smiling. Next, the two of them in a similar position after the bar fight, mid motion as he’d pushed her against her car. Then, her and Connie laughing outside of the gym, sweaty and glowing in the streetlights.

After that came the moment outside of the bombed restaurant, smoke everywhere, Horacio hovering over her. Out of context, it was a stunningly captured image. They looked utterly alone, his concern for her written all over his face. She was holding him by his forearm, chin tilted up a bit, her hair falling in haphazard curls, haloed around her.

Eva stared at it a moment longer before she flipped to the next one. More of her and Connie, sitting on a low wall, eating. Her arguing with Javier on the steps of the church. Her and Horacio sitting on that bench across the street, his hand trailing down her arm, eyes wandering to the hem of her skirt. Another of him kissing her at her door after dropping her off from one of their early dates.

And then she was standing in the street, staring her ex mother in law down. A little out of focus behind her, Horacio was standing by the table with his arms crossed. Eva stared at the picture for a moment longer than the rest, feeling her lip curl. That woman was still living, and possibly already figured out that Zero had been unsuccessful—possibly was already contacting another contractor to finish the job. That would need to be dealt with eventually.

The final photo was taken a few days before she’d been called to examine Zero’s final warning. She was walking hand in hand with Horacio, they were in a busy farmer’s market, picking out a few things to cook up for dinner. Eva was looking up at him as he talked with a vendor, her eyes so full of emotion that she felt herself blush even looking at it. She looked like a woman in love, a thing that Eva had never thought would be something she would have.

Very carefully, Eva slipped the photos back into the folder and set it aside, “Thank you for doing that.”

Steve nodded, his eyes dropping to the glass in his hand, “At least its over now.”

She sighed, “Yeah, I guess so.”

The ride back to Horacio’s house was quiet. Eva glanced at him periodically, could tell that he was deep in thought. She clutched the folder of photos in her lap, unsettled. It wasn’t until she was taking her make up off in the mirror of the bathroom that he finally broached the subject he’d been contemplating all night.

Standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, he watched her wash her face, “We do need to address it.”

Eva looked at him in the mirror as she turned off the water, “Address what?”

“The fact that there is likely another hitman already contracted to kill you,” he said matter of factly.

Eva drew in a breath, glad that he hadn’t taken too awful long to decide to have this conversation. She didn’t know how fast Myra would move, but the woman was not known for her patience, or her mercy. It was extremely likely that they had contacted a new guy to finish the job.

She wiped her face off with a towel, “I know. I’ll think of something sooner or later.”

His mouth thinned, eyes narrow, “How can you be so calm?”

Setting the towel on the counter, Eva stepped up to him, placing her hands on his chest, “I have spent almost my entire life with people doing things to me that are completely out of my control. Maybe I’m used to it.”

Walking him back, she sat him down on the bed and kissed his brow. Turning, she reached behind her and tugged down the zipper of her dress, pulling it off while she searched for a sleep shirt to wear.

“This is serious, Eva. Your life is in danger.”

She laughed as she unclasped her bra and threw on the shirt. He very likely did not know how much of a hypocrite he was being in that moment.

“What?” he asked, his tone sharp.

Eva fixed him with a sardonic look, “I’m not the only person in this room with a bounty on their head, Horacio.”

His eyes looked away, “That’s different.”

“How?” she exclaimed, incredulous.

“I’m a police officer working to dissemble a cartel.”

He stood, hands on his hips, mouth curling. Eva felt her inside harden up, unbowed by his fierce look.

“And I’m a felon and former drug trafficker. I can’t escape this, I cannot walk away from it. You have a choice.”

He was already shaking his head, “I don’t.”

Eva stepped up to him, taking his hands, “You do. You can walk away. Retire. Spend some time at the cabin by the ocean. Fucking relax in public places. All of these things you can do. You just have to make the choice to do them.”

For the first time since she’d met him, Horacio looked unsteady. He was looking her with so many conflicting emotions that Eva couldn’t quite parse them out. Sensing that this might be the time to have the other conversation that she’d been keeping to herself for the last few weeks, she soldiered on.

“This job is going to kill you,” she whispered, voice low and rough, “I can’t stand to watch that happen.”

His mouth parted, “We have guards, protocols-,”

She cut him off, “That’s not what I’m talking about. Have you seen yourself these last few months? Did you see what I saw? They’re going to drive you into the ground.”

Horacio blinked, “Its difficult for everyone.”

“No,” she bit out, her hands tightening on his, “You’ve had maybe three days off since we got back. You’ve hardly slept, you’re not eating regularly, you’re so stressed I can literally smell it coming off you.”

Gently, she thumbed the skin beneath his scent gland. His eyes drooped a little, jaw loosening from where he’d been holding it so tightly. Settling into his body, Eva held him to her, trying to convey her worry, her concern for him.

“You want me to walk away from my career? Everything I’ve worked to build?” His voice was on the edge of anger, and Eva fought the urge to back up, to relent to him.

“I want the same thing that I think you want for me,” she murmured, “I want you to live. Really live. You can’t do that if you don’t make some changes. Take that one foot out of the darkness.”

He sighed deeply, dropping his head into the crook of her neck and embracing her, “Its late. We’re both tired. Let’s table this for now.”

Afraid that she’d push him too far if she pressed on, Eva nodded and stepped away to crawl onto the bed. She watched him undress and climb in next to her. After turning off the lamp on the nightstand, he settled into the pillows, taking her hand and kissing it. She drifted off with that solid connection between them.

The next few days were dusted with sporadic conversations about an intangible future. The end of Eva’s contract loomed, now four weeks away. She went to work every day, knowing that it was one less day she would be required to be there. And then something weird happened.

She’d been pulled into a meeting. She’d been censured for continuing to perform field work, outside of the scope of her contract. And then they’d told her that they were cutting it short and to clean out her desk. She’d have two weeks to get her personal items out of the apartment rented for her by the department. Eva couldn’t help the little sneer on her face as she watched Vanessa happily deliver the news.

She couldn’t keep her desk past the end of the day, had been given a box to put her belongings in. Eva had done so mechanically, putting the box of little personal items into her car and returning for her purse, still sitting on that shitty desk Steve had pointed out to her all those months ago. On the way out, she stood under an awning, looking out to the parking lot, confused and feeling just a tiny bit...sad.

A boot scuffed behind her and Eva looked over her shoulder to see Javier standing not far away, his fingers drumming on his leg.

“I guess you heard,” she said, a small smile on her lips.

Javier nodded, reaching up to pluck the cigarette from behind his ear, his other hand already holding a lighter.

“Its strange,” Eva continued on, “I think I’m actually going to miss it.”

He nodded again, not speaking. Eva frowned, gesturing at him as if to say ‘what’s the deal?’

Javier took a drag off the stick in his hand, “Let’s go to lunch.”

Without further explanation, he grabbed her by the elbow and started walking with her. His stride was quick, firm, determined.  His expression was closed. Eva felt her stomach drop with anxiety as she followed along.

“Okay,” Eva drawled in a false attempt at bravado, hustling to keep up with him in her heels, “What is this about?”

“Not here,” he murmured, steering her to his car.

It wasn’t until they were both ensconced in their seats and the engine had turned over that he said anything.

“We’re gonna meet Carrillo at a little out of the way dive just outside the city. I’ve been digging into your contract for a couple weeks and wanted to tell you both.”

Interesting.

Eva’s brows lifted, “What did you find?”

“Let’s wait until we get to the place, I’ll tell you everything then.”

They did, indeed, drive just outside of the city to a little hole in the wall place with what looked like only one waiter. At Javier’s direction, he led them to the back of the main room, through the kitchen, down a hall, and into a basement. Eva stood at the top of the steps, feeling just a little bit like she was walking into a trap.  She looked at Javier’s back as he descended, looked at the waiter, then sighed and stepped down.

It smelled a little bit musty, and there was only a single light hanging from the ceiling. But, a table had been set up with a few chairs. It even had a tablecloth.

“Well,” she commented, because she needed to talk or she was going to start freaking out, “This is certainly the strangest going away lunch I’ve ever had.”

Javier rolled his eyes and sat heavily in one of the chairs, “Have a seat. They’ll bring us some coffee.”

Eva sat, looping her purse strap over the top of the chair, “Is Horacio on his way?”

He nodded, “Should be here any minute.”

She stared him down, looking for clues as to what this was all about. He hadn’t brought a file, he didn’t even have that little notebook he sometimes carried with him. All he had was his wallet (currently wearing through the fabric of his jeans), his gun (tucked in the back of his waistband), his cigarettes (slipped into the breast pocket of his short-sleeved button up), and his lighter (twirling between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand).

The door at the stairs opened and Carrillo’s heavy steps sounded, a slow, measured thump. Eva folded her hands in her lap and waited until he ducked down to scan the room. He was wearing his uniform, gun at his hip, the first few buttons of his shirt undone so that a little of his undershirt peeked out.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he approached and sat down, “Had to make a few calls.”

“Not a problem,” Javier responded, “I almost didn’t catch Eva before she headed out.”

Eva scratched at the skin above her brow, “Does anyone want to tell me what this is about?”

Javier leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, “I did a little research on you.”

“This again?” Eva bit out, feeling a hot anger bubbled up from where is had laid simmering since she’d walked out of that meeting.

Hand up, he indicated for her to wait, “More than just your work history. More than your prison stint. I know a guy who knows a guy, who pulled your file—your actual file. I got a copy of your contract, and I managed to dig up some interoffice mail between Vanessa and some shady people.”

“Okay?”

He leaned forward on his forearms, “There’s a few expense forms that were incomplete, but paid out anyways. Expense forms for plane tickets for, Vladimir Prost—a known alias of Alexei Volkov, according to an FBI friend of mine—w ith a hotel voucher for the same name.”

Eva’s eyes narrowed, her brain circling around the information and coming out on the other side feeling her anxiety spike.

To her left, Carrillo added, “I went to the hotel, pulled a few of their records.  He stayed there for months, Eva.”

She crossed her legs, trying to keep her body more still, “I told you that he had, the pictures proved that he had. The question is why Vanessa, why the DEA, was footing the bill.”

Javier shook his head, “That’s the thing, they weren’t. The forms weren’t standard DEA—very close, but not quite the same.”

She blinked, “You’re saying they were doctored.”

“I’m saying they were doctored,” Javier confirmed with a sharp nod.

Carrillo looked at her solemnly, “I paid off a few administrators where she banks, tracked her bank statements and accounts for the last two years and cross referenced them with the forms Javier found. There are several large deposits close to the dates on the forms from a company our of Louisiana, Ardent Pharmaceuticals. That name familiar to you?”

Eva could feel the blood drain from her face, “That’s the company name for the Moore family’s business front.”

“Well,” Javier commented with a little shrug, “They’ve gone straight with a lot of their stuff. They’re a leader in the field of suppressant therapy.”

“I’m sure they are,” Eva sneered, eyes cutting to the side as she thought about those three syringes gleaming on that table.

“Eva,” Carrillo prompted lowly, “Do you understand what we’re telling you?”

She looked at him, “That my early release, my contract, all the work I’ve done, the shitty boss I’ve had, and my entire professional career is a big set up to keep me contained and under the thumb of my former mother in law so that she can eventually corral me into a corner and murder me? That sound close enough?”

“I know you’re mad,” Javier said, catching her eye, “But we’ve got to think smart about this.”

“Smart?” Eva hissed, her voice high, “You’re telling me to be smart? Everything I’ve done under this contract is a lie and you’re telling me to be smart?”

He made a soft sound of comfort, “You can be mad about that—hell, I’m mad about it—but, you can’t react from that anger.”

“How am I supposed to react?”

“With cunning,” Carrillo answered, and she could tell that he’d already made a plan. “I looked at the contract, the end date is set in stone. Did you get a formal letter of release?”

Eva nodded, reaching into her purse and handing it to him. He read it over quickly before handing it to Javier.

“Good,” he said, “That saves you from the DEA asserting that you broke the contract. Now, I’ve still got a hand in Vanessa’s accounts.  For the near future, that’s going to be our best bet for tracking when the next hit will come.”

Javier handed the release letter back to Eva, “I also made a call to one of my contacts at the IRS. He’s going to call for an audit of the Ardent books, which should tie up some of their funding for the next few months, at least.”

Eva shook her head, “If they’re still using my system, then they won’t find anything.  All their off the books transactions are buried under layer after layer of red tape and false company names.”

Javier leaned forward, “Can you lay out that system for me? So I can send it to them?”

She nodded, “I can do that.”

“Okay, that’ll work. I’ll fax that over to him and that might help speed things along. Eva?”

“Yeah,” she croaked.

“We need you to go about your life as usual. Go pack up your apartment, buy a ticket back to the states, do whatever you think will need to be done so that no one knows you’re onto them.”

Her brows drew together, “You want me to go back to the states?”

Carrillo put a hand on her arm, “We want it to look like you’re going back. We need to buy some time, until we hear back from our contacts.”

Staring into the middle distance, Eva processed the conversation, running over the information a second time and coming out just as angry, if not more so. She was quiet so long that the two men at the table began to fidget.

“Eva?” Javier edged.

She swallowed, then sighed, “Are we actually going to eat at this ‘lunch’? I’ve only had coffee today and I’m starving.”

[anothersievefistedfind]

Photo © by Antonia Tricarico

Fugazi, Flood Zone, Richmond, VA USA 5/11/1998 (FLS #0858)

Penultimate and shortest show of the 1998 spring US tour (11 dates), as well as the second and last time Fugazi would play the Flood Zone in Richmond, a venue that appears to have gone up for sale a couple of years ago.

The recording features just 18 songs total, taken off of the End Hits album (released a month prior) for the most part (8 songs), Red Medicine (1), In on the Kill Taker (3), Steady Diet (2), Repeater (2) and the Margin Walker EP (1). Note a rather rare live appearance of Foreman’s Dog, as well as the slow or toned-down mid-section of the set.

However, overall, it turned out to be quite a contentious show because the band takes offense at the misbehavior of the bouncers. Listen close as a first attempt at No Surprise (Interlude 3) is interrupted as Guy and Ian take aim at the security personnel for kicking someone out for no good reason, after which Ian appears to go out and find the person while the rest of the band goes into an impromptu jam.

After another, successful, stab at No Surprise, and going into Long Division, Ian muses, “it’s sort of a clash of cultures you know, there are people who behave in a way that they need to be taken care of, and there’s people who will take care of themselves, let’s be the people that take care of ourselves.” 

To little avail, since more turmoil and altercations between Ian and the bouncers ensue shortly after, halfway through Blueprint, and while the last note of the song is still in the air, the recording documents Ian saying “this is an unusual opportunity, this is a quite unusual thing to do but I really think it’s appropriate given the fucking situation” before barking “YOU’D MAKE A GREAT COP YOU FUCKING PIG” and bursting through Great Cop for the second time around on the same night, closing out the set!

Ian shares some more details of the story in Joe Gross’ 33 1/3 book on In on the Kill Taker, “Backstage, MacKaye found himself surrounded by the manager and the cops and security guys. [Ian MacKaye:] ‘They wanted to beat my fucking ass because I called them out. They tell me to get the fuck out of the building, so I have to sit in the van while the band loads out. We finally all assemble outside. I look at the guys and I say, ‘Hold on.’ I walk back into the venue. The band was like, ‘They are going to kill you.’ But I go up to the bar. I got the whole ‘you got a  lot of nerve coming back up here’ but it was fine. It was just the perfect song.”

The sound quality of the recording is very good, not considering some volume drops and sonic discrepancies during the first couple of songs, after which the mix settles. Joe’s bass in particular is the icing on the cake here. Note the distinct reverb on both Ian’s vocals and Guy’s guitar early on in the set, as well as on Joe’s vocals during Recap Modotti, but I am guessing sound engineer Nick Pellicciotto was playing around for effect here.

The set list:

1. Intro 2. Break 3. Place Position 4. Merchandise 5. Exit Only 6. Interlude 1 7. And The Same 8. Foreman's Dog 9. Interlude 2 10. Great Cop 11. Public Witness Program 12. Pink Frosty 13. Floating Boy 14. Closed Captioned 15. Recap Modotti 16. Rend It 17. Bed For The Scraping 18. Interlude 3 19. No Surprise 20. Long Division 21. Blueprint 22. Great Cop 23. Outro

[kellyvela]

Chronicle of a Death Foretold

July 21, 2018

In the earlier published Targaryen family tree as found in The World of Ice & Fire, Princess Daenerys did not exist. In her place was Prince Aeryn Targaryen, Jaehaerys and Alysanne's sixthborn son who died young. Besides Aeryn having been exchanged for Daenerys, several other children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne were shifted in their order of birth.

Regarding these changes, Elio Garcia has stated the following:

... George had some new ideas for some of the names and the stories of the children who died young, and corrected some issues that came out of his original birth order (we actually got the names of all the kids quite late in the production of TWoIaF—literally a month before we had to finalize the book—so there was not much time to interrogate it). However, the stories of those who live to adulthood, as published in TWoIaF, do remain the same (just, of course, much more detailed).

[Source]

November 20, 2018

Jaehaerys loved all three children fiercely, but from the moment Aemon was born, the king began to speak of him as his heir, to Queen Alysanne’s displeasure. “Daenerys is older,” she would remind His Grace. “She is first in line; she should be queen.” The king would never disagree, except to say, “She shall be queen, when she and Aemon marry. They will rule together, just as we have.” But Benifer could see that the king’s words did not entirely please the queen, as he noted in his letters.

(...)

It was the hour of the owl when Queen Alysanne was awoken by her daughter shaking her gently by the arm. “Mother,” Princess Daenerys said, “I’m cold.”

There is no need to dwell on all that followed. Daenerys Targaryen was the darling of the realm, and all that could be done for any man was done for her. There were prayers and poultices, hot soups and scalding baths, blankets and furs and hot stones, nettle tea. The princess was six, and years past being weaned, but a wet nurse was summoned, for there were some who believed that mother’s milk could cure the Shivers. Maesters came and went, septons and septas prayed, the king commanded that a hundred new ratcatchers be hired at once, and offered a silver stag for every dead rat, grey or black. Daenerys wanted her kitten, and her kitten was brought to her, though as her shivering grew more violent it squirmed from her grasp and scratched her hand. Near dawn, Jaehaerys bolted to his feet shouting that a dragon was needed, that his daughter must have a dragon, and ravens took wing for Dragonstone, instructing the Dragonkeepers there to bring a hatchling to the Red Keep at once.

None of it mattered. A day and a half after she had woken her mother from sleep complaining of feeling cold, the little princess was dead. The queen collapsed in the king’s arms, shaking so violently that some feared she had the Shivers too.”

—Fire & Blood - Volume I

May 19, 2019

Standing before the Iron Throne, Dany steps forward and kisses the man she loves. A perfect kiss, an expression of pure love and passion.

We push in on them until we’re tight on their faces -- their eyes closed, his hand behind her head, her hand on his cheek.

Dany’s eyes open suddenly as she draws a sharp breath.

Jon’s eyes open as well, already filling with tears. For a moment, neither moves, as if moving will make this real.

In a wider angle, we see Jon with his hand still on the hilt of the dagger he just lodged in Dany’s heart.

Her strength leaves her and she collapses to the marble; he keeps her in his arms as she falls, kneeling down to the floor beside her.

He looks down at what he’s done. Terrible. And necessary. He hopes for one last moment with her.

But her eyes are already glazing over. Winter has come to the Throne Room. Dany lies dead in his arms, Pieta-style, as the snow drifts down.

—GAME OF THRONES "The Iron Throne" - Written by David Benioff & D.B. Weiss - Based on A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin

January 19, 2020

WELT: Again: We know what will happen to the Mother of Dragons. How do you want to surpass that in a novel – with an alternative literary version?

GRRM: Counter question: How many children did Scarlett O'Hara have? In Margaret Mitchell’s novel “Gone with the Wind” she had three children. But in the cinema version of the novels she only had one child. Which version is the only one valid - the one with one or the other with three children? The answer is: neither. Because Scarlett O'Hara never existed, she is a fictional character, not a real person, who would have had real children. Or take “The Little Mermaid”. We know her from the fairytale of the same name by Hans Christian Andersen and from the Disney movie. Which one is the true mermaid? Well, mermaids do not exist. So you can chose the version that you personally like the best. Changes are inevitable in this process. Even if the adaption is as faithful to the literary source material as it was the case with “Game of Thrones”.

—GEORGE R. R. MARTIN “Die Leute kennen ein Ende – nicht das Ende” - WELT 2020 - (Translation)

April 18, 2021

Q: It is my impression that there are parallels between Westeros history and current events in ASOIAF. so in your opinion to what degree is George martin's history cyclical? Because we have a lot of parallels. For example with the current history and the dance of the dragons.

Elio: You know George even uses that line from talking about the the arms of house Toland, the dragon eating its tail, but it was from the Archmaester Rigney which is a reference to Robert Jordan the writer of the wheel of time, that history is a wheel or time as a circle. I think George certainly deliberately sees, creates parallels. I mean this is a very obvious example, you know if you read The World of Ice and Fire, you saw the family tree of the Targaryens, and the family tree for Jaehaerys and his offspring changes quite a lot when fire and blood comes out. Because George realized that he wanted to create a kind of parallel by introducing another Daenerys. and he said like, i like the symmetry of it, I like the the sort of the way. You could perhaps read it as reflecting on Daenerys's story, maybe. I wish it was true. I mean I think fans of Daenerys need to be really worried about what's going to happen to her. Although I guess Game of Thrones maybe has revealed kind of where things may possibly end. Again the journey is going to be very different. I think you know circumstances, things are going to be very different. So there's a journey that matters. But in any case, so yes I think George uses cycles and things a bit. He likes setting up parallels of events, he likes paralleling characters, he likes paralleling events, and he likes paralleling the past and the present as well.

Linda: I think certainly that when he fleshed out the details of Fire and Blood, even when he first did the sidebars for The World of Ice and Fire, and they just grew. We could see that, okay here he's looking at foreshadowing or commenting on current events by doing a similar scenario in the past and he definitely likes to play around with those aspects.

[Source] (*)

(*) Thanks to @istumpysk and her friend for sending me this link!

[dailyaudiobible]

03/13/2021 DAB Transcript

Numbers 19:1-20:29, Luke 1:1-25, Psalms 56:1-13, Proverbs 11:8

Today is the 13th day of March welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it’s great to be here with you today as we…yeah…as we sort of put a bow on the end of another week, which puts us at the end of the ninth full week of this year, ninth week and some change, a couple days. And there is only one way to go and that way is forward. So, that's what we'll do. It's a…it's a day of transition here. When we get to the New Testament, we will be entering the third of the four Gospels. This is known as the book of Luke. We concluded the book of Mark yesterday. So, we'll talk about Luke when we get there. But first, Numbers chapters 19 and 20.

Introduction to the gospel of Luke:

Okay. As we said at the beginning, that now that we’re in entering the New Testament portion of our day together we’re moving into some new territory, the third gospel known as the gospel of Luke. And the gospel of Luke is probably the most well put together, the best written of the Gospels, the most concise of the Gospels. And the gospel of Luke and the book of Acts are more of a two-volume set. Like Luke/Acts written by the same person to the same recipient with the gospel of Luke chronicling…chronicling the life of Jesus and His ministry and then the book of acts, essentially chronicling the early church formation, and specifically the lives of the apostle Peter, and then the apostle Paul, who we have yet to get to know. So, Matthew, Mark, and now Luke ,these three Gospels are known as the synoptic Gospels, largely because they share a lot of the same material and cover a lot of the same ground with just about all scholars believing that Mark is the first gospel that was ever written about Jesus that has been preserved and that Matthew and Luke used Mark in their construction because they cover the same territory but in many cases they are Word for Word. But then there's many deviations as well. A lot more detail is inserted into the gospel of Luke, for example, then the book of Mark, filling out those stories. It's because these Gospels, they were written to different audiences to fulfill different purposes. So, for example, in the case of Matthew, we've already read this, so we can think back and we can remember that Matthew is a very Hebrew centric gospel of Jesus where Jesus is shown to fulfill many Hebrew prophecies all along the way. In fact, like I said, you can’t hardly read a page in the book of Matthew without Jesus fulfilling a prophecy. It's very front and center. The gospel that we’re about to read, the gospel of Luke, is likely more written primarily to a Gentile audience or a seeking audience, the story of Jesus revealing that the gospel of Christ includes the whole world and…and not just those of the…of the Jewish faith. So, let's settle into the gospel of Luke here. Like I said, it's in narrative form probably the best constructed of the Gospels to read. And we’ll be covering some familiar territory as we do that. So, today Luke chapter 1 verses 1 to 25.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. We thank You for the passing of time that has brought us to this day. We thank You for Your faithfulness during all of that time. We thank You for what You are speaking in the time that we know as this year and we are grateful that You have brought us to the threshold and now we have entered the gospel of Luke. Come Holy Spirit we pray. Continue to lead us deeper into Jesus. Continue to lead us on the narrow path that leads to life. Continue we pray to lead us into all truth. We pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

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Be aware of, as I mention often, of the Community section because that is where to begin to get connected. That's where different links are on the social media channels that we’re…that we’re…that we use. It's also the home of the Prayer Wall which is a constant. We can always go there to pray. We can always go there to ask for prayer. So, stay connected. It's important to stay connected in the journey that we’re on as we continue through the year because it's just nice to know we’re not alone as we take the journey. It's nice to know that when those things come up that are too heavy for us to carry, we don't have to carry them alone. And, so, be aware of the Community section.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link on the homepage and my heart is full of gratitude and in awe out a daily basis that…well that we’re even here. And the truth is we’re here because we’re in this together. And, so, if…if what we are as a community matters and brings life to you than thank you for being life-giving. So, there’s a link on the homepage. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if that’s your preference, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, the little red button up at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Show Me God's Love Ephesians chapter 3 verse 20 and 21 and Matthew chapter 18 verses 19 and 20. I just wanted to give a shout out to Peter and God’s Smile for the song that they played on her tummy. We need more tummy drums. I haven't laughed and smiled so much, and I was having a really bad day until I heard that so I want you guys to know you are responsible for giving me my first laughs and smiles of the day and perhaps that week. So, thank you for that. Slave of Jesus it's good to hear your voice. Mark Street good to hear your voice. And there's so many others that I can't even get into it now, I guess but Candace from Oregon it's good to hear your voice and hope that you're doing well. Well, that's it for now. Show me God's love.

Hello this is Steve from Pennsylvania my moniker is Face Like Flint from Isaiah 50 verse 7. And I'm calling to ask for partnership with the world-wide body of believers that is listening to this podcast. I'd like you to pray for my sister Catalina who is entered in a hospital behavioral health ward for the ninth time in the last 30 years. She's been struggling with schizoaffective bipolar. It’s a very difficult diagnosis and it's cyclical. And I want you to ask that the Lord would give her some supernatural revelation into her own condition and that the Lord would deliver her from any spiritual aspect of this illness, this brain disorder, and that she would be able to read a letter I'm about ready to deliver to the hospital from my sisters and I as we're trying to get her to cooperate with the professionals and to help us in rescuing her stuff from her apartment, her cats, and be ready to move into my mother's, the homestead where we grew up. My mother passed in November and the children have inherited the household. So, I'd like you to join me in that. We really need Jesus to break through here. There's just a lot of anger and darkness inside that comes out during these periods. Otherwise, she's perfectly normal and just a wonderful sister and very intelligent. But she needs Jesus and I pray that you would join me and pray for Catalina. Thank you.

Hey DAB family this is beautifully broken. I just was thinking today as I was listening to people call in and as I've listened to people call in and I hear people say I've been listening for 10 years, I've been listening for five years, I've been listening for the whole time all 15 years. Personally, I myself this is my 4th year going through, but it really struck me today how amazing it is that there is a troop, an army of people reading the Bible from start to finish year after year after year. And what is God raising us up for? I just think that is amazing. There is no other format that I know of that allows this and that lets people interact in the way that we interact in going through the Bible together. It is such a unique community. And we are a Facebook post away, a telephone call away, a prayer away from each other the majority of the time. I think God has something really wonderful planned for this community. It’s just amazing to be a part of it.

Hey guys this is Mary calling in. I'm 19 years old. I just wanted to comment and…and just give a praise report about this community. Over these past few months, I've been learning about community and how important it is especially during times like these and I just…I thank God every day for the community I'm surrounded by, my church community and, you know, the things I like community and just, yeah, I just want to say I'm so grateful and you all inspire me so much every day to just be a servant, to be more humble and be aware and just give my all. So, I thank you. I really hope you guys all have a blessed week and weekend. God is so good. Yeah. Thank you. Bye.

[extremely-uncanny]

How Myspace and Astonishing X-Men got me into comics.

The Past

It is 2007. I walk into the local Walden Books in the town mall (a phrase that immediately dates this column). I am on a mission. I walk to the corner of the store that I often ignored on my way to the sci-fi paperbacks. In this corner, I find a spinner rack full of comics. With no friends or family into comics, what made this kid from rural Tennessee to seek out funny books? Was it a movie? Was it nostalgia? Nope. The reason I was here was MySpace (This REALLY dates this column).

Specifically, MySpace role playing. That is a story for another column, but I was roleplaying Cyclops on MySpace at the time. I wanted to be good. Scratch that, I wanted to be the best. Turns out the best way to know your character— besides raiding wiki pages and comic vine—was to buy the comics.

It didn’t hurt either if you had a scanner and you could get special unique pictures that you couldn’t find online. I wanted to do my research and I asked around online about what comics had Cyclops in it. I read comics before in the 90’s, but it was only a stack of about 50 books and not one was X-Men. I was lost when trying to parse through what comics I should read. Especially in the X-line at the time. This was the time following House of M and Civil War. X-Men were firmly moved to the backburner. 

(X-Men (vol.2) #199 was one of the X-Men books of the time. Hindsight a really underrated run of the comic but definitely not new reader friendly. Same could be said of Uncanny X-Men that month. It was square in the middle of Rise and Fall of Shi’ar Empire)

The line was starting its long decline into irrelevance like the Post-Lee/Kirby era the mutants found themselves in before Claremont picked them up from the ashes. It wasn’t obvious at the moment, but Avengers was stealing the throne and Iron Man’s release in 2008 would seal it..

I wanted to read comics with Cyclops and I didn’t know where to being.  Thanks to my real dad, the internet, I was told Cyclops was only really in one X-Men comic at the time—Astonishing X-Men.

So, I am browsing this spinner rack looking for Astonishing X-men. I didn’t know how fortunate I was at the time, but I managed to find issues #19-21 all on the spinner rack. This was fortunate because as I would come to find out Astonishing X-men tended to release whenever the moon was in the correct alignment with the constellations. The fact there were comics cover dated for February still sitting on the rack in May was amazing. Speaks volumes about Walden Books, I guess.

I took the issues home and devoured them. I read them multiple times. I marveled at Cassady’s minimalistic art and the general pacing worked. I may have been jumping into the final arc of the run, but damn I loved those comics. Astonishing X-men #19-21 were the first comics I’ve read in 10 years. Last time I read comics, heroes were just reborn and Superman was blue. I had to have more.

I remember sitting down and deciding I can budget my money from the random chores and birthdays to buy a comic once a month. Which was great because Astonishing X-men was “Monthly”. As I said before this was not true. It would come out sporadically for the next 18 months. I needed more comics though. I really enjoyed the medium and I loved superheroes. While nostalgia did not drive me to pick up these comics, it kept me interested in checking out more. I was big into the Marvel hype machine and started buying up comics left and right. My finances were spared though because I would only buy from Walden books or a small game shop in town that had a modest comic section. Little did I know about the dedicated comic shop just a street over. When I discovered the shop. Well, my wallet took one hell of a hit (Still never financially recovered from Blackest Night) 

The Present

Eighteen months ago, I lost my entire singles comic collection (outside of a few random books I kept) in a flood. This unfortunately included my copies of Astonishing X-men #19-24 and Giant-Size Astonishing X-Men #1. I already lost my trades of the remainder of the series to a friend. Sure, I could read them on Marvel Unlimited (and I did, several times), but I missed those single issues. A couple months ago, on a lark, I begin to browse eBay for Astonishing X-Men runs. Mainly looking for the issues I had. What I found were complete runs at affordable prices. I pounced and bought up the entire Whedon and Cassaday run. The nostalgic joy I felt from getting and flipping through those books was hard to describe. As much as nostalgia leads me to check out new things or to revisit things from the past, it doesn’t usually bring me joy like that. I was and still am overly excited to have this run. I am not a completionist or a collector. I don’t have a desire to buy up the remaining issues of Astonishing X-Men that followed. It has inspired me to check into buying other single issue runs of arcs I love. I will post thoughts on the arcs of Astonishing X-Men in the future. Just a preview, I am nostalgic for it, but it is flawed especially staked next Morrison’s top notch run. 

The Future

With this recent acquirement of Astonishing X-Men and deep diving on Jay and Miles X-plain the X-Men, my love of X-Men was rekindled. I think it is time for me to revisit the Merry Mutants that I largely left behind after numerous resets and directions (Lemire was my last attempt to read the X-Men). Hickman has been one of my favorite writers of the last decade of comics and I really love Lenil Yu. I think its time for me to read the X-Men.

-Goes to read House of X/ Powers of X-

Holy balls, I…need to write about this. So next time (maybe? This column has the release schedule of a 90’s Image series) I will try to explain my love of HoX/PoX.

This has been Extremely Uncanny

For more updates or to see my twitter musings you can follow me at  https://www.twitter.com/extremlyuncanny or of course subscribe here to the blog.

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 21/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver start working their new lead, and relationship status, with some surprising results.

Notes: This was a rough one to get out and I'm sorry it took so long. Here on out there will be two parallel plots: Belle's recovery and relationship with Weaver, and solving the murder of Eloise Gardener. Warnings in this chapter for discussion of PTSD, Belle's attack, and mention of her miscarriage.

Warnings: Miscarriage reference and discussion in some chapters. Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags.

[AO3]  Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

The room smelled like paper and tea, a comforting and warm contrast to the steady rain that was falling outside.

Belle pressed her hands over the front of her skirt and looked around the office of Dr. Archibald Hopper. There was a leather sofa flanked by two bookcases with a set of three black and white prints in thick black frames hanging above it. The shelves were arranged with a mix of artistic pieces and leather bound volumes of medical and legal books, looking so perfectly put together that combined with the rest of the room it all had less the feel of Archie, her friend and colleague, and more last month’s Pottery Barn catalog.

“Nice office,” she said finally.

Archie smiled and took a seat in the high backed leather chair across from her. “Thanks. It beats the south wing of the hospital.”

She laughed lightly, recalling the rather dilapidated old patient rooms that had once made up a sizable bed tower and part of the original hospital where Archie had once worked. While the rest of the building was expanded and renovated over the decades, the south wing had been largely ignored and converted into office space for those who didn’t rate mid century modern credenzas and floor to ceiling glass that overlooked the bay.

“Yeah, it definitely does,” she agreed, glancing around the room. “You’ve certainly moved up in the world.”

“It was those excessive bonuses the city paid me for all the consulting hours you demanded.”

His lips curved, and Belle shook her head. “Yes, well, good to know my budget overages were well spent.”

They shared a laugh, and then Dr. Hopper shifted in his seat, mentally moving from friend and colleague to therapist with no more than an adjustment of his body and the picking up of his pen.

“I’m assuming that what brought you here wasn’t a desire to reminisce about the city's lack of funding for prosecution experts.”

Belle looked down at her hands. “How did you ever guess?”

Archie flashed her a weak smile, and let out a breath. “Belle, I know what happened to you - not the details, of course, but enough - and I know that it’s policy to have a psychological review before returning to work. However -”

“That’s not what this is,” she interrupted. “I mean, yeah, I’ll probably need you to fill out the official form at some point, but I’m already back at work.”

Hopper frowned slightly. “I see.”

Belle glanced up. “Midas knows me well enough to know that I feel better being back at work than taking two weeks of leave.”

“And how do you feel being back at work so soon?”

She gave him a look. “Fine. We’re making some progress on, um, the body that was found in the community garden.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because -” she paused and licked her lips, spreading her hands over her thighs as her palms started to feel clammy. “Because it’s when I’m not at work that, um, that I don’t think I’m fine.”

He nodded and made some kind of mark on his pad. “What makes you think that you aren’t fine?”

Her head rolled back against the sofa as she blew out a breath between her lips. “Is this how it works? You just turn my answers into questions?”

“How else would you like it to work?”

Belle’s head lifted, her eyebrow arching. “Ha ha.”

Archie smirked and then made another mark on his notepad before setting it aside. “Look, this is like any other doctor’s appointment, right? You have to tell me your symptoms, as it were, so I know what’s going on and where to start. Right?” She nodded, and he continued, “So, what’s been going on?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she said, leaning forward to lean her elbows on her knees. “Got attacked by a serial killer in my own apartment, stabbed him in the leg, and now...”

“Now...what?” Hopper coaxed.

She sighed. “I can’t sleep unless my ex-husband is with me. I keep sort of - reliving what happened, but the memories are - are weird. I feel...I don’t know, like tired but jittery all the time? I only feel okay when I’m at work, when I can focus on the case, focus on doing something about what happened, you know?”

She left out that the only other times she seemed to feel normal was when she was playing house with her ex, eating, sleeping, and fucking like nothing had happened in the last two years, like they hadn’t made a mess of everything.

Archie raised his eyebrows when she mentioned Weaver, and folded his hands. “So, you and Detective Weaver are...?”

She shrugged and straightened. “I don’t know what we are. I stayed with him while my apartment was a crime season, but it’s been cleaned and released. I just haven’t gone back. I haven’t wanted to, I guess.”

“Okay, let’s, um, let’s park the relationship stuff for now,” he said. “Tell me - tell me about your memory of what happened. When does it come to you? What do you recall?”

“Usually when I’m alone,” she replied. “Day or night, doesn’t matter. It’s flashes, mostly, feelings. Cold from his - his leather jacket, pressing against my back. I was told that he’d been hiding out on the balcony, waiting until - until I got home.”

Archie swallowed and crossed his arms. “And?”

“Heat,” she continued. “Like my face is flushed, but it’s - it’s from, uh -

She lifted her hair at the front, exposing the red line where her skin was still healing even weeks later. “He hit me and it, um, made it hard to see. Everything was - was red.”

Dr. Hopper pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing as her hair dropped back over the wound. “You said that your memories were off. Could you tell me more about that?”

She held his gaze for a long moment, as she bit her lip. His eyes softened and the corner of his mouth curved slightly as he gave her a brief nod. The room started to feel too warm, and she leaned forward to take a sip of the water he’d set out for her.

“It’s strange,” Belle said finally, sitting back against the cool leather. Her hands fidgeted with the ring on her right hand. “Remembering, I mean. It’s like - it’s like I’m outside of myself, but not - not in any kind of weird out of body experience way, more like... I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Dr. Hopper gave her a small smile and nodded. “Try. Tell me one thing at a time, and take as long as you need.”

She sighed. “I feel - heavy. Like I can’t move my arms or legs no matter how much I want to. There's pressure too, in my head. It’s kinda like a sinus headache, but without being stuffed up at all, if that makes any sense.”

“It does.” Then he shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. “Does your heart rate increase or is it hard to breathe?”

Belle shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I just have this strange feeling, and there’s a flash of light. Then I look down and - and there’s -”

Hopper’s head tilted. “What? What do you see?”

She breathed in and out through her nose as her eyes fixed on the glint of the light as she twisted the white gold band of her ring back and forth. It was a square sapphire in a pale blue color, about a half carat in size. Weaver had given it to her for their first anniversary. She’d worn it nearly every day while they were together, but as soon as she left the divorce attorney’s office, it had been relegated to a small wooden box at the back of her dresser drawer where she kept some of her mother’s old jewelry. The first night they’d retrieved her things from her apartment, she’d grabbed it without thinking as she was rummaging for some socks.

“Belle, what do you see?” Dr. Hopper repeated.

Belle swallowed and looked up, meeting his eyes. “Blood.”

Hopper nodded, pressing his lips together again as his pen tapped against the pad next to him. It was an action she’d seen from him often when he’d consulted on a case, usually when he was thinking through his response to a question.

“Yours or - or his?”

“Both,” she said quickly, the hitch in his voice making hers waver as well.

He gave her a sympathetic look and took a breath before he asked his next question. “And, um, where is the blood?”

She breathed out again, slowly and took another swallow of water. “On my hands.” She set the drink down and looked down at her palms, blinking a few times as the image of the red, dripping stains flashed into her mind. “My blouse. The counter. The floor.”

Then she took another breath. “And sometimes it’s um -”

Dr. Hopper’s head tilted. “It’s what?”

Belle blinked hard. “Um, on my - my legs.”

“Why only sometimes?”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she tried to force the image away. “Don’t know.”

The slight shift in Archie’s expression revealed he didn’t believe her, but he seemed willing to let it go for now, and she sighed again.

“Let’s go back to your relationship with Detective Weaver.”

She frowned. “Why?”

Dr. Hopper sat back, crossing his legs, and smiled. “I suspect some of this starts a little further back than Jack Branson.”

Belle huffed and shook her head. “It doesn’t. And you already know the story. We were married, then we got divorced.”

“And?”

“And?” She raised her eyebrows and held Archie’s gaze. “What?”

“And now you’re...?”

There was a low throb starting in her head as she pulled at her ring again, sliding it over her knuckle until it spun freely around her finger. “I told you, I don’t know what we are, not right now.”

“Can you tell me what you’d like to be?”

“No.” Then she sighed. “I let things go too far while we were working on the case, and before you ask, you know exactly what I mean by ‘too far’ Mr. I Accidentally Screwed the Waitress Who Was Also a Witness.”

Archie’s face flushed, and Belle flashed him a brief smile. His affair with Ruby had been problematic at the time, and it had forced him to step back from his role as an expert consultant. Now that they’d been together for a couple of years, it was all water under the bridge, and the switch back to private practice was overall better for everyone. She sighed. “Now everything is...I don’t know. It’s good, but it’s also temporary, so I’m trying not to get complacent or get used to anything, you know?”

Hopper shifted in his seat, his lips pursing for a moment. “Why does it have to be temporary?”

“Because we’re divorced,” she answered flatly.

“Why?”

Belle pushed her ring back on her finger and paused. “Why what? Why are we divorced?” Dr. Hopper’s head tilted again, and she gave him an annoyed glare. “I’m not dredging up our marital issues, Arch. I’ve been there, done that.”

“Have you?” he asked. “Been there, done that?”

She made a face. “Well not like this, obviously, but I think I’ve rehashed it enough in my head for ten therapists, thanks.”

Archie chuckled at that and shook his head. “Fair enough. Though I do get the impression there’s a piece I’m missing here.”

“How do you mean?” She folded her arms over her middle and mirrored Archie by crossing her legs.

He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You and Ian were good together, Belle. We all saw that. I have to admit that when I heard you two were splitting up, it was - it was quite a shock.”

Belle looked away as he spoke, clenching her jaw as she swallowed against the lump in her throat. She’d heard the same statements from others before, during, and immediately after the divorce. Everyone thought they were so perfect together, but of course none of them had to live with a reticent police detective who didn’t know how to let anyone in. She always thought he’d change, that he’d soften with time, open up more the longer they were together. The night he chose a murder over her and their baby, she’d realized she’d been wrong.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It was to me too.”

Hopper pursed his lips again and watched her as she tugged on her ring again, slipping it over her knuckle to spin it around her fingertip. She paused to wipe at her eye, and he sat back with another heavy sigh.

“Belle -”

“I had a miscarriage.”

Archie blinked and frowned at the words she’d blurted out. “You - what?”

He licked his lips as his mind grasped for words. Confusion and shock had made him lose his usual quiet coherence, and he leaned forward again. “I’m sorry, I’m just - I’m trying to understand. Was this after - after your attack, or -?”

“No,” Belle said quickly. She met Dr. Hopper’s eyes, her stare firm in spite of the tear that was trickling over her cheek. “No, it was - before. It’s why - why we divorced.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “So -”

She felt her face heat as her vision blurred. There was a faint ringing in her ears that made her shake her head, sending a volley of tears down her face. She was vaguely aware of the tissue box sliding closer, pushed by Dr. Hopper, when she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then lurched forward. Her feet stumbled over each other, her shoe coming loose as she stood and tried to walk around the coffee table that was between her and Archie. He said her name as she moved, one hand stretched out in front of her to catch the bathroom door and push it open while the other was pressed to her mouth.

Belle sniffled again, wiping at her nose with the battered tissue before tossing it in the trash can and exiting the small bathroom.

Archie stood up quickly. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

She was surprised how true it felt in spite of how upset she’d been a few minutes ago. It had been a long time since she’d said the words out loud, and once she had it was like the dam had broken, flooding her body with emotions she’d kept at bay for over two years. In hindsight, the miscarriage had bled into the situation with Ian, leaving everything a jumbled mess well before her encounter with Jack.

Archie was right.

“So, Arch, how fucked up am I?” she asked, letting out a humorless laugh.

Dr. Hopper sighed and came closer, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “No more so than any of the rest of us.”

She shook her head. “I doubt that.”

“Belle, what’s happening to you is normal,” he started. “You were physically attacked in your own home, by a man whose pathology I can’t even fathom right now. Having some PTSD from that is completely expected. Everything else on top of that...? I can’t imagine what all you’ve been through.”

She breathed out, feeling a strange sort of relief at his words. “Yeah.”

“I think,” Archie started, cautiously, “that it would be a good idea for you to keep talking about this.”

“With you?” She blinked up at him, her expression pulled as the steady pulse of a headache grew.

He shrugged. “With whomever you like, whoever you feel comfortable talk to. That’s the only way this is going to get better.”

Belle reached up and pushed her fingers into her hair, rubbing at her scalp. “I don’t think I’d want to talk to anyone else, if that’s okay.”

His mouth curved slightly. “Of course it is. Whatever I can do to help, Belle.”

Belle checked her makeup in the mirror one last time and ran a hand through her hair, trying to smooth it into place. She looked passable, if a bit tired, but then that had been her almost perpetual state since the case had started. Her heels thudded softly on the carpet as she made her way back to her office, her gait stuttering briefly when she spied Weaver sitting at the conference table.

Shit.

She’d been hoping he was still at the station following up on Nick Branson’s former employer in Las Vegas. When she’d made the appointment with Dr. Hopper, she’d had every intention of telling Weaver that she was going, but in the end every moment that might have been right, wasn’t. He’d be supportive, of course, he had been when she’d first mentioned it a week ago, and their history with Archie had only raised the psychologist’s esteem in his eyes. Yet she’d held back that morning when he’d asked her what she was going to get up to while he was tiring his eyes out at a computer screen.

She let out a steadying breath and pushed open the door to the office.

Weaver twisted and looked over his shoulder at her, smiling. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, brightly, hurrying over to her desk to set her purse down.

“I was surprised you weren’t here when I got back.”

“Oh, I ran a quick errand after lunch.” She shrugged and looked up at him, knowing full well by the way his eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly that he didn’t quite believe her. “Find anything?”

“Couple addresses,” he replied. “Some names to follow up on. The construction company Branson worked for went out of business a couple of years ago, but I have contact information for the holding company that took over its assets.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“I guess.” Then he frowned slightly, and pushed back from the table, twisting to face her. “Are you okay?”

Belle sighed and busied herself with sorting through some papers on her desk. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

His expression was inscrutable as he stood and came to stand in front of her desk. “I don’t think we’re going to get much more done today, if you want to take off early.”

She glanced up at him. “Why would I do that?”

Weaver shrugged. “You’re tired.”

She sighed again and straightened, knowing from his flat tone that he hadn’t believed her, but he was still offering her a way out anyway. It annoyed her and she wasn’t sure why. “Well it’s been a long...month.”

He gave a slight nod as his lips pressed together. “Yeah, and we worked a lot of weekends in the last little while. You need some down time.

She shot him a look. “I’m fine, Ian.”

He gave her a look and moved around the side of the desk until he was next to her. “Belle, you look absolutely shattered.” Then he took hold of her hand and started tugging her away from her work. “Come on.”

“Ian...” She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.

He turned on his heel and faced her. “Belle...”

They stood for a moment, staring at each other with equal exasperation, until Belle’s shoulders sagged. She was tired, that went without saying, both from her appointment with Archie and the weeks and months that had preceded it. There was a standard level of fatigue that she’d dealt with her whole career, brought on by long days in court, and longer nights of composing motion documents and briefs. But this was new. This was a less familiar bone deep weariness that weighed her whole body down, pulling her to the Earth. It didn’t feel like being grounded so much as it felt like being drowned, sucked down under the dark waves and suffocated.

Belle’s head dropped as she exhaled. “I went to talk to Archie after I left Midas’s office.”

Weaver seemed to startle a bit at her words, shifting his stance as his eyes went wide. “Okay...and?”

“And, it was... a lot.” She looked up and blinked almost dazedly.

He moved closer, taking the kind of slow steps one might when they were approaching a skittish cat. When he came within arm's length, she reached for him, all but grabbing the front of his white shirt as he closed the distance between them. She turned, falling against him as he moved to hold her, and buried her face in his chest.

"You sure you're all right?"

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, breathing in his warm, earthy scent. “Yeah,” she replied, slightly muffled. He made a grunting noise, and she looked up. “What?”

One of his eyebrows lifted slightly. “Let’s go home.” She stiffened and he squeezed her against him. “You can take a hot bath, I’ll make the scallops I picked up on my way back form the station, and -”

“You got fresh scallops?”

His lips quirked as her eyes widened hopefully. “You won’t know until you get home.”

Belle pulled back and swatted at his chest. “You don’t play fair.”

He laughed softly, and she shook her head, knowing that what he was suggesting was for her own good. They both needed a break, and the lull while they waited for courts and county clerks to process a pile of paperwork and red tape might just be the thing.

“Yeah, okay. I can write up the rest of the records requests on my laptop.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, dryly, dropping his arms and taking a step back. “Just not in the bath this time, not after what happened with your iPad.”

She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and shot him a glare with significantly less venom than usual. “Shut up.”

Weaver pulled open the office door, still smirking, and held it for her as she stepped through into the hallway. “Yes, dear.”

[dlwritings]

Wondering | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x Osterfield!reader word count - 3,050  warnings -  A/N - I’m 21-years-old and I just got fucking HOOKED onto High School Musical: the Musical: the Series and I’m pretty shook about it and even though deep in my soul I’d love to write cute fluffy fics about it I feel too weird because they’re all babies so even though Joshua Bassett is the fucking cutest and makes me think bad thoughts (he’s 18 don’t come at me) I will refrain. Instead, here is a fic based on Wondering from the show which has been on repeat for longer than I’d like to admit

summary - You’re Harrison’s younger sister and Tom’s ex-girlfriend. Once the fame hit, you freaked out and left. It seemed like the right thing to do: end things with him before the inevitable, more heartbreaking end occurred. But when Harrison drags you to the Far From Home premiere and after party, you’re forced to face the consequences of the decision you made.

You were in the middle of sipping your morning cup of coffee when your front door opened. You turned at the sound of heavy footsteps that you knew could only belong to your older brother, Harrison. “Did I say you could come in?” you joked, turning the volume of the TV down.

“You might not want to be so sassy,” he said, “when I’m about to invite you to have an absolutely incredible Saturday night.”

“You are now?” you said. “And what might that night entail?” Harrison reached into his back pocket and pulled out two movie tickets. You just raised your eyebrows, prompting him to explain further.

“Two tickets to the premiere of Spider-Man: Far From Home and an invitation to the best after-party,” he said before doing a playful bow. “You’re welcome.”

As kind as the gesture was, you could barely manage a smile. “Is it okay if I pass?” you said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Harrison’s face dropped.

“Why?” he asked. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“No offense, but why would I be thrilled?” you said.

Harrison sighed, “It’s been almost four months, (Y/N). You can’t avoid him forever.” You opened your mouth to say something, but Harrison said, “I’ve been saving these tickets for a huge surprise and it was supposed to be great and one up the present you got me last Christmas and you were gonna be so happy and-”

“Dude, dude, relax,” you laughed. “It’s really nice, and I so appreciate it, but I don’t even have a dress or anything.”

“Oh!” he said, his face lighting up again. He ran back towards the entryway of your apartment and came back with a box. “I got that covered, too.”

“You went shopping for me?” you asked, skeptical as you opened the box.

“God no,” he laughed. “Zendaya picked it out.” You pulled out a gorgeous dress that was clearly too perfect to have been picked out by Harrison. He had a great sense of fashion, just not a great sense of your fashion. You looked from the dress to Harrison, who looked at you expectantly.

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll go.” Harrison pumped his fist in success and smiled at you.

“It’ll be great,” he said. “You’ll have so much fun.”

Harrison ended up staying for lunch and a couple movies at your flat, but the conversation of the movie and after party didn’t come up again. Still, you tried to feign more excitement for his sake. It was clear to you that he was so happy and wanted you to be on his level. He had tried so hard to give you a good gift, and if you hadn’t still been so heartbroken, you might’ve been more grateful. Unfortunately, your breakup with Tom was still fresh in your mind.

When you and Tom started dating, Harrison was less than thrilled. You were 16 at the time, and Tom was 19. You had known Tom for years because of Harrison, and you always had a crush on him. It took a little bit longer for Tom to reciprocate the feelings, and when he did, Harrison was mad. He gave Tom a long lecture that involved a lot of yelling about you being too young for him and even a little bit of shoving. Tom swore he wouldn’t do a thing to hurt you, and after a while, Harrison got used to it. You knew he still wasn’t your relationship’s number one fan, but he could tolerate it.

For a long time, it was good. Really good. You truly loved Tom, and you knew he loved you, too. But then, Civil War came out, and Tom’s life changed in the blink of an eye. He was famous. He wasn’t just a kid in a few movies and stage shows. He was Tom Holland: the new Spider-Man. With his fame came a lot of new attention on you. Too much attention. Your own Instagram skyrocketed in followers, and every picture Tom posted with or of you received thousands upon thousands of comments criticizing you and your relationship. And suddenly, things stopped being good.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” you said, throwing the clothes you kept at his apartment into your backpack. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Why?” he shouted, trying to stop you from packing your things. “What is going on?”

“This is too much,” you said, not looking at him. “I didn’t sign up for a relationship with your fans.”

“You’re not in a relationship with my fans!” he said. “You’re in a relationship with me. Just me.”

“No I’m not!” you said. “Nothing is just us anymore. It’s a thousand comments about me not being good enough and, and it’s me wondering when you’re gonna leave me for someone better.”

“What are you talking about?” he groaned. “I’m not gonna leave you!”

“Not yet!” you countered. “But you will. Someday you’ll star next to some gorgeous actress who is way, way better than I am, and you won’t want me anymore. Because I am literally no one special, and that’s fine. I’ve always known I’m just some ordinary person, and I thought that was enough, and maybe it is right now. But in one, two years, it won’t be. And I cannot stick around and wait for that to happen.”

Tom sighed, “Can’t we just stop and think about this for a minute?”

“I’ve already thought about this, Tom,” you said. “I’ve thought a lot about this. This is the right decision.”

“No it’s not!” he shouted. You had finished packing all your things and threw your backpack over your shoulders. Just as you started to walk out of his bedroom, Tom grabbed your arm and held you back. You didn’t turn to face him, so he moved to stand in front of you. You noticed then the tears in his eyes and the few that had fallen to his cheeks. “Please, please don’t do this. Don’t leave me because you’re afraid of what might happen.” You pulled your arm out of his grasp and shook your head.

“I’m leaving because of what I know will happen,” you said. “And I have to protect myself.”

The thoughts brought tears to your eyes, so you wiped them away and pushed yourself off the couch. You were alone now, Harrison having left only a few moments ago. “Okay,” you said, breathing heavily past your lips. “Make it through the day.”

And you did. Friday went by in a breeze. When Saturday came, you felt sick the minute you woke up. You were sure you couldn’t do it. The premiere. The party. None of it. But you were going to. For Harrison. And for you. Because you needed to do this to prove to yourself that you could see Tom and not break.

But the truth was, the more days that went by since the break-up, the more you wondered if you had really made the right choice. If you saw Tom, you were sure you would break down in regret-filled-tears. You needed someone to talk to. You needed to sort out the thoughts in your brain before you saw Tom. So, a few hours before the premiere, you called Zendaya. Despite your break-up with Tom the minute the fame hit, you got to know the members of the Spider-Man cast and crew pretty well considering Harrison’s role on the team. Zendaya quickly became one of your closest friends. She agreed to come over and get ready with you and talk you through your thoughts.

“What if I made the wrong choice, Z?” you said, carefully zipping up the back of your dress. “What if I was supposed to stay with Tom? What if it was going to be me and him in the end?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sympathy laced in her voice. “I don’t have the answers, but you’ve gotta stop living in the past. You made the decision you made, and now you’ve gotta live with it.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said sarcastically. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, fixing her hair. “I’m just saying, you can’t keep going through the what if’s. Even if you went back and changed the past, and, and went against all the odds and braved the commitment and the drama and publicity or whatever, you don’t know what would’ve happened after that. And you can’t know. So why keep mulling it over? It serves no purpose.”

“But-”

“What you can do is move forward from here and try to make things different.”

“What if he doesn’t want-”

“Ah, buh, buh,” Zendaya said, holding up her hand to stop you. “No more what if’s.” 

You and Zendaya dropped the subject as you finished getting ready. Before you knew it, you were at the carpet with Harrison ready to walk. He gave you a hug and a sweet kiss on the cheek. “You look great,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a deep breath and smiling. “Uh-” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “-is Tom here yet?” Harrison smiled softly at you.

“Yeah, he’s a ways down the carpet already,” he said. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” you said with a firm nod. “Let’s just get through the carpet. I want to see this movie! I’ve gotta know how the world mourns the great Tony Stark.”

The movie, as expected, was awesome. You chatted with Harrison the entire ride to the afterparty without once running into Tom. Once you actually got to the party though, that changed. He came up to you and Harrison while nursing a beer and smiling widely. The party had only been going for about thirty minutes, but it was clear he was already a little tipsy. “I’m so glad you’re both here,” he said. “The Osterfields. My favorite family.” His hand on your waist felt like it was burning your skin. You couldn’t help but step away from him. He was too intoxicated to notice.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you said. They both nodded, so you went over to the bar and got a moscow mule. As you sipped your drink, your mind wandered as it had been so often lately.

“I’m leaving because of what I know will happen,” you said. “And I have to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself?” Tom almost screamed.

“Tom I don’t want to keep talking about this!” you shouted, tears coming to your own eyes. “You’re being, you’re being-”

“Being what?”

“You’re being a dick right now, okay?” you said. “You’re being a dick, because I made this decision, and you’re trying to do that, that thing that men do where you try to act like you know better than me because you’re a man-”

“What the actual fuck are you on about?” Tom shouted. “You’re not making any sense, and you’re just talking shit now because you don’t even know what’s going on or what you’re doing.”

“Tom-”

“Why do you want to give up so easily? Do you not love me anymore?”

You were silent.

“Say it, (Y/N),” Tom said, taking a step closer to you. “Say you don’t love me anymore.” You swallowed thickly and clenched your jaw, looking at the floor. You could see his feet right in front of yours. He lifted your chin and made you look at him, then slowly kissed your jaw and your cheeks. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say it, and you can go.” You took a deep breath through your nose and pushed Tom away.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

You scoffed before finishing off your drink and walking back over to where Harrison was sitting at a hightop. “You good?” he asked before downing the rest of his own drink. You nodded and gave him a -what you were sure was unconvincing- smile.

“Um, testing, testing, hello?”

You and Harrison both looked up and saw Tom standing on the stage on the other side of the room with a microphone in hand. “Hey everyone,” Tom said. “I just wanted to say a quick little thank you to all of you for coming out tonight. Thank you for going to see the movie and for supporting this franchise and loving it as much as I do. Being a part of the Marvel universe has been such a blessing, and I’m thankful every single moment I’m here. Without people like you supporting me, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. So I just want to say thank you for never leaving my side, and for sticking with me through all the changes my career has brought to my life.”

And you were sure Tom looked right at you when he said those words.

Suddenly, everything was too much. What you thought had been a somewhat successful night avoiding Tom had just flipped into a disaster with a single look. You quietly excused yourself from the table and headed for the exit. You hoped to god Harrison didn’t notice you leave and that no one else was paying you any attention. And why would they be? You weren’t anyone special. No one important. Just a stupid girl in her stupid dress running away like always.

Not wanting to wait in the lobby of the building for an Uber, you decided to just walk to the bus stop. Before you could even get out the door, you heard Harrison call your name. You knew it was no use trying to outrun him, so you just stopped and waited for him to approach you. He stood in front of you, leaning down a bit to see your face. He wiped some of your tears away with his thumbs. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Where are you going?”

“I’m sorry, Haz,” you choked out. “This is just, it’s not working out for me.”

“What does that mean?” he asked. You put your hands on your forehead and took another deep breath.

“I just can’t be around him,” you said. “Every time I look at him, I, I feel so sick with regret, and it hurts so, so much.” You let out another soft cry. “And I know you’re probably thinking I-told-you-so, because you never wanted us to date in the first place, but-”

“Hey, hey, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he said, putting his hand on your chin so you could look up at him. Your lower lip quivered, and Harrison sighed and pulled you in for a hug. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

You and Harrison pulled away from each other, and you wiped your eyes. Tom was walking over to you, a look of concern on his face. “(Y/N)?” Tom said. “Why’re you, what’s, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you sniffed, wiping your face. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Tom said, stepping closer to you. “What’s wrong?”

Harrison tried to step in. “Tom, maybe just-”

“No, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong,” he said firmly. You gave Harrison a look that you were okay, and he nodded and left you and Tom alone. You folded your arms across your chest and squeezed yourself tightly.

It’s now or never.

“I know it’s been four months,” you said, “and you’re probably over me and all of this, but, but I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Tom asked, his voice soft, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I keep thinking about the night, the night everything happened-” Tom’s face softened. “-and, and I think about everything I would’ve done differently.” You sighed. “I, I’ve never been a strong person. I run away when things get hard or when I’m scared. And I was so scared, Tom. I should’ve been brave and just, just said fuck it and ignored all the odds that I felt were stacked against us.” You took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I know that I fucked all that up, and I can’t keep wishing I had done things differently. Because I can’t go back and change the past, and until I accept that, I’m constantly going to be wondering what could’ve been. It just makes everything so hard, like being here, watching you up there giving toasts and, and shining like the fucking star you are. It’s just too much for me, Tom.” You let out a heavy sigh and put your hands on your hips, feeling tears falling from your eyes again. “But this is my problem, not yours. So, so I’m gonna go. I’m just gonna go home, and we can pretend this didn’t-”

“Hey, (Y/N) calm down,” Tom said, putting his hands on your biceps. You looked up at him, and he wiped his thumbs under your eyes. You found your eyes flickering down to his lips, and you knew his eyes did the same. The next thing you knew, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a deep kiss. You put your hands on his cheeks and held him close to you. You pulled away when you started crying again. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “That’s not exactly romantic.” Tom just laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You looked up at him, and he brushed some more tears from your eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“What?” Tom almost laughed.

“I ran away from you the minute you started to succeed,” you said. “What kind of girlfriend does that? Hell, what kind of friend does that? I don’t expect you to forgive me for that or, or for things to go back to normal just because I realized I messed up.” Tom shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“I don’t care about what you did,” he said. “You’re right. We can’t change the past, and I don’t want to dwell there either. The only thing that matters is that you’re here now. You came back. And I’m not over you. I’m very much not over you.”

“Really?” you said, a smile growing on your face.

Tom laughed. “Really. I love you, (Y/N). I’m pretty sure I always will.”

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